Chapter 188: Seven Days [2]

They were human — or at least, something that looked human.Every one of them wielded swords, not just in their hands, but as their hands. Where flesh should have been, blades jutted, steel fused with bone. Their leader was an aloof man cloaked in a chilling aura. He introduced himself as the Second Guardian, the Sword Demon.

From the very first clash, the difference was clear. This guardian did not rely on brute force or strange mutations like the others. His squad fought with discipline. Each swordsman moved in formation, unleashing techniques that Yu Xuan could recognize by name as they called them aloud.

"Tiger-Dominating Swordsmanship!"

"Mountain-Splitting Cut!"

"Wolf Fang Strike!"

The air glittered, their sword qi layering over one another like waves in a storm.

Yu Xuan and Lingluo avoided direct engagement with the Sword Demon at first, cutting down his subordinates instead. But the resistance was fierce.

Even as they struck down the bladed soldiers, the Sword Demon interfered, his presence pressuring Yu Xuan like a blade poised against his throat. Lingluo held off much of the squad with her chaotic aura and ruthless claws, but the battlefield grew chaotic.

At last, the underlings fell one by one, and the inevitable clash came. Yu Xuan faced the Sword Demon alone.

It was a duel unlike any other he had fought.

Yu Xuan wielded the [Magic Swordsmanship of the Avalon Imperial Family], each strike noble, domineering, carrying the will to subdue. The Sword Demon countered with his own Heart-Devouring Sword.

That technique was terrifying — not because of its raw power, but because of its insidious effect on the spirit.

Every clash carried whispers meant to erode the heart, to pull doubts and insecurities into the open. Against an ordinary cultivator, Yu Xuan knew the battle would already be lost.

A single falter in will, and the Heart-Devouring Sword would plant the seeds of a heart demon.

But Yu Xuan was not ordinary. His trait, [Mental Resistance], blunted the technique’s spiritual invasion. Though he felt the edge of its pressure, it could not shake him. What might have broken another swordsman only fueled his determination.

Sword intent met sword intent in a storm of sparks, until finally, Yu Xuan’s sword struck true.

The Sword Demon fell. Defeated, but not dishonored. Yu Xuan had to admit, he respected the man. Unlike the others, he fought fair and square. If circumstances were different, Yu Xuan might even have called him a slightly worthy rival.

The sixth day came, and with it the First Guardian.

This one was arrogant beyond measure, exuding superiority before the battle even began. From their own mouths, Yu Xuan learned they were descended from dragons.

Each stood six feet tall, their slit pupils gleaming with pride, their hands tipped with claws, faint scales shimmering along their skin.

At first glance, Yu Xuan had not believed them. But their strength in battle left little doubt. Their martial skills were formidable, their defense even more so — scales tough as armor, claws like blades.

And yet, all their dragon pride crumbled with a single taunt.

Lingluo tilted her head and said casually: "Mega home lizards."

That was all it took.

The guardians went berserk, roaring with rage. The battlefield shook under their fury. Yu Xuan had to admit, it was one of their hardest fights yet.

But with Lingluo’s ferocity and his own relentless hardwork, the dragonkin were dragged down one by one. In the end, the so-called First Guardian fell like the rest.

The seventh day passed in relative silence. Both siblings felt their minds reaching their limits. They had faced guardian after guardian, underling after underling, and though they stood victorious, exhaustion weighed heavily. They chose to rest, to recover strength, letting the world around them fall quiet for a brief moment.

And now, on this very morning — they stood together, surveying their surroundings. Yu Xuan traced the marks he had carved days ago and realized the pattern for what it was. A pentagram. Every corner, every ambush, every guardian had been set deliberately.

A conspiracy. A trap.

One designed from the very beginning.

***

On the very first day, after Yu Xuan and Lingluo slaughtered the green monsters, silence briefly fell over the battlefield. But only for a moment.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. Cloaked in darkness, his features remained obscured, but in his hand gleamed a red crystal that pulsed faintly with malicious light. He raised it slowly, and one by one, the corpses of the fallen monsters dissolved into smoke before being sucked into the crystal.

Not a trace was left behind.

Once the field was cleared, the figure waited patiently. Only when Yu Xuan and Lingluo had moved far from the location did he finally kneel, chanting in an unknown language. The ground itself seemed to tremble, the cracks and gashes left from battle knitting back together. In mere breaths, the scars of combat vanished. The earth looked untouched, as though no slaughter had ever occurred.

From that moment on, the figure followed.

He observed from the shadows as Yu Xuan cut down the hunters, watching closely as Lingluo clashed with their leader. When Yu Xuan distanced himself to give her the chance, the figure stepped into the abandoned clearing. With a flick of his wrist, another red crystal appeared. At his silent command, the crystal devoured every corpse, drinking greedily of their blood and fragmented souls.

But this time, the restoration was delayed. The leader and Lingluo still fought, the ground still quaking beneath their blows. He waited, irritated.

At last, when the hunters’ leader self-destructed, the figure’s eyes narrowed. His voice slithered out in disdain.

"Tsk. Useless woman."

Displeasure darkened his aura. He sliced open his palm, letting thick, blood drip onto the red crystal. At once, its glow deepened, throbbing like a living heart.

Without further delay, he left the battlefield behind. His steps carried him to a hidden location — one of the nodes of the pentagram. There, he drew forth a talisman inscribed with runes, his fingers weaving intricate gestures. The air rippled. Space itself shifted.

In the blink of an eye, the forest vanished.

The figure now stood before a looming black altar, its surface engraved with writhing patterns that seemed almost alive. With reverence he placed the red crystal upon it. The altar pulsed once, as if acknowledging the offering.

Then, as silently as he had come, the figure vanished. The altar dissolved into nothingness, leaving no trace of its existence.