A golden sliver of dawn filtered through the wooden window lattices, illuminating the quiet bedchamber.
Li An stirred from her heavy slumber, her eyelashes fluttering as a dull throb pulsed behind her temples. The lingering effects of the Thousand Frost Spirit Wine still clung to her senses like a thick fog. But before her mind could fully clear, a strange sensation registered against her skin—a solid, radiating wall of warmth pressed firmly against her front.
Her eyes snapped open.
Her face was buried directly against a broad, muscular chest covered in coarse martial robes. Two heavy, calloused arms were locked securely around her waist and back, pulling her slender frame tight against his torso. Above her, the steady, rhythmic breathing of a sleeping man brushed against the crown of her head.
Li An froze, her mind going completely blank for three whole heartbeats.
What... is this?
Panic exploded in her chest. For over a century as Li Feng, he had been a man. Even after fifteen years inhabiting Wu Meng Ting's peerless female body, her core consciousness remained that of a proud cultivator. Waking up in the intimate, suffocating embrace of a male cultivator was a sensory and psychological shock that shattered her composure.
Worse, her memory of the previous night after draining the second cup of wine was an absolute void.
What did I say? What did I do?
Cold terror rushed through her veins. Wu Meng Ting’s primordial yin roots, the Skin Transformation Art, the stolen identities—if she had leaked even a whisper of the truth under the influence of the alcohol, she was doomed.
Her dark eyes hardened into chips of obsidian. Beneath Li An’s plain disguise, her jaw tightened. She looked up at Zhang Hao’s sleeping face—his broad, rugged features completely relaxed in slumber—and a ruthless impulse flared in her heart.
If he knows... I must kill him here and now. I can abandon the name Li An, take another skin, and vanish into the northern plains.
As the chilling intent began to gather in her meridians, Zhang Hao stirred. His eyelids lifted, revealing warm, amber-tinted eyes. When his gaze met the freezing, murderous glare inches from his face, he blinked once, twice, and then suddenly realized their posture.
"Ah—Junior Sister Li!" Zhang Hao gasped, immediately recoiling as if he had grasped hot coals. He threw his hands back, nearly tumbling off the edge of the mattress. "Wait! Do not misunderstand! I swear on my Dao heart, I did not touch you improperly!"
Li An slowly sat up, her posture rigid as an icicle. Frost crackled faintly along the wooden floorboards beneath her boots. "Senior Brother Zhang. You dragged me into your private chamber and held me in your bed until dawn. And you claim you did not take advantage of me?"
"I didn't!" Zhang Hao cried out in genuine distress, his face flushing crimson as he waved his hands frantically. "You were utterly drunk from Chen Wu's spirit wine! When I tried to help you up in the dining hall, you... you clung to my neck and wouldn't let go! You kept shivering and saying you were cold. I tried to pry your hands away, but your grip was like an iron band. I had no choice but to bring you up here so the other disciples wouldn't gawk!"
Li An's expression turned terrifyingly dark. "You claim that I—a disciple of the Mystic Peak—threw myself into your arms like a shameless tavern wench?"
"It’s the truth!" Zhang Hao protested, cold sweat beading on his forehead as the room's temperature plummeted. "Ask Chen Wu! Ask anyone who was in the hall!"
"Fabrications," Li An hissed. Her pride as a former Golden Core expert and her modesty in this female body violently collided. In her eyes, Zhang Hao was clearly trying to cover his insolence with absurd slander.
With a flick of her wrist, she drew her weapon from her storage ring.
It was not an elegant, gleaming blade, but the heavy, jet-black iron rod Zhang Hao had forged as a flawed experiment years ago—a blunt bar of spirit iron devoid of an edge, crossguard, or scabbard. Yet in her delicate, pale hands, the blunt rod resonated with terrifying power. Frigid, blade-like arcs of compressed yin qi gathered along its surface, humming with lethal intent.
To be slain by a discarded lump of scrap iron he had forged with his own hands—Zhang Hao realized with dread that he might become the first cultivator in sect history to suffer such an absurd fate.
"Junior Sister, calm down!" Zhang Hao yelled, kicking off the floorboards and diving out the door into the inn's corridor.
"Stand still, Zhang Hao!" Li An commanded, her temper flaring in a way she had never experienced in her past life.
She vaulted across the bed and pursued him into the hallway. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she swung the heavy black rod horizontally. A crescent wave of condensed, razor-sharp yin energy detached from the blunt tip, slicing through the air with a high-pitched scream.
Crack!
Zhang Hao dropped flat onto the floor, allowing the arc of frost energy to shear through the wooden banister and sever two decorative pillars, sending splintered timber crashing down into the courtyard below.
"Chen Wu! Wake up!" Zhang Hao bellowed, scrambling on hands and knees toward the adjacent guest rooms. "Help me explain to Junior Sister Li!"
Doors along the corridor flew open in rapid succession. Disciples from the Sword Peak and Punishment Peak tumbled into the hallway with weapons drawn, thinking the inn was under demonic assault.
"What in the heavens is happening?!" Chen Wu roared, stepping out of his chamber half-dressed, his broadsword already resting on his shoulder.
Before he could react, Li An swung the black rod once more. Another howling blade of frosty qi shattered the floorboards an inch from Zhang Hao’s heels.
"Chen Wu, tell her!" Zhang Hao shouted, dodging behind the bulky Sword Peak disciple. "Tell her she was the one who wrapped her arms around me and refused to let go last night!"
Chen Wu took one look at Zhang Hao’s panic, then at Li An’s icy, murderous glare, and let out a booming laugh. "Junior Sister Li, put away your weapon! Senior Brother Zhang speaks the truth! When you drank that second cup, your soul practically left your body. You nestled into his chest like a frozen kitten seeking a brazier. We all saw it! If anyone is to blame, blame my wine!"
"That's right, Junior Sister Li," one of the Sword Peak disciples added, trying not to smirk. "Senior Brother Zhang was so embarrassed his face was redder than a fire talisman. He carried you upstairs like he was holding a block of fragile jade."
Li An froze, her arm halted mid-swing.
She looked at the sincere, amused expressions of the surrounding disciples. None of them carried the deceit of conspirators; they were genuinely recounting what had happened.
In an instant, the frosty aura around her collapsed. A burning, suffocating heat rushed from her chest straight up to her neck and cheeks, staining her plain face a bright, uncontrollable crimson.
I... I did that?
The realization struck her like a physical blow. Her mind screamed in mortification. For all her decades of stoic cultivation and careful restraint, her drunken body had instinctively sought the nearest source of heat and clung to a male senior brother in front of an entire banquet of peers.
Without uttering a single word, Li An lowered the black rod, turned on her heel, and walked swiftly back into her own room, slamming the heavy wooden door shut.
Inside the quiet room, she leaned her back against the door, pressing her palms against her burning cheeks. Her heart was pounding wildly against her ribs.
What is wrong with me? she thought, her teeth gritting in frustration.
In her past life as Li Feng, he was calculating, patient, and thoroughly immune to emotional outbursts. He would have analyzed the situation, weighed the consequences, and acted with cold logic. Yet moments ago, driven by sheer embarrassment and instinctual defensiveness, she had nearly demolished an inn and attacked a fellow disciple with lethal force.
Wu Meng Ting’s body was not just reshaping her meridians; the hormonal tides, heightened sensitivity, and primal instincts of this female form were subtly eroding the rigid, detached mindset of Li Feng. Her emotions were becoming sharper, more volatile, and undeniably feminine.
This cannot continue, Li An swore silently, forcing her breathing to steady. If I lose control like this in battle, I will die.
For the next two weeks of their trek toward the northern borders, Li An retreated into total isolation.
She walked at the very rear of the formation, keeping fifty paces between herself and the rest of the squad. Her black hair was tied tightly back, her plain face set in an unreadable mask of frost, and she spoke only when directly addressing squad business.
Whenever Zhang Hao attempted to approach—bearing spirit fruits, warm tea, or clumsy apologies—she would immediately increase her pace or look past him as though he were made of thin air.
"Senior Brother Zhang, give it time," Chen Wu advised one evening around the campfire, tossing a dry branch into the flames. "Women are like fine spirit steel. Strike them when they're cold, and they crack. You must show constant warmth and persistence. Keep apologizing, show her you care, and eventually the ice will thaw."
Zhang Hao sighed, staring toward the dark outline of Li An meditating atop a distant boulder. Taking Chen Wu's advice to heart, he redoubled his efforts, asking about her well-being at every rest stop—completely unaware that his persistent hovering only aggravated her internal confusion and annoyance.
Finally, at the end of the second week, the lush grasslands of the north gave way to a cracked, desolate expanse of red earth and sulfurous steam.
The Scorched Wastes.
Towering volcanic ridges broke the horizon like jagged black teeth, and the ambient temperature soared to an oppressive, stifling heat. The squad made camp in a dry ravine half a day's travel from the suspected lair of the Golden Core fire beast, using the evening to recover their strength and finalize their combat roles.
Around the glowing tactical map sketched in the sand, Zhang Hao leaned on his heavy spear. His features were serious and focused, carrying the dependable aura of an experienced leader.
"The beast we are hunting is a Molten Armored Drake," Zhang Hao explained, pointing to the ravine marker. "Early Golden Core stage. Its scales are impervious to ordinary spirit weapons, and its core breath can incinerate Foundation Establishment flesh in seconds. Our only chance is flawless execution of the restraining formation while whittling down its vitality."
He looked around the circle. "The two junior brothers and two junior sisters from the Formation Peak will establish the Four Quadrants Sealing Array to suppress its fiery domain. The two junior sisters from the Punishment Peak will handle the backline, providing ranged suppression and containment chains. The two brothers from the Sword Peak and I will act as the vanguard, drawing its primary attacks."
"No," a quiet, flat voice interrupted.
The disciples turned in surprise. Li An stepped forward, her dark eyes looking directly at Zhang Hao.
"I will take the frontline vanguard," Li An said calmly.
Zhang Hao frowned, his brow furrowing in immediate protest. "Junior Sister Li, absolutely not. The frontline takes the full brunt of the beast's initial fury. I know you are still angry with me over what happened at the inn, but you cannot throw your life into danger out of spite!"
Li An’s eyes widened slightly in exasperation. Spite? Does he truly believe I would risk my life over a momentary embarrassment?
"Senior Brother Zhang treats combat like child's play," Li An responded, her tone cold and precise. "This has nothing to do with personal feelings. The drake is a pure fire-attributed creature. You, Senior Brother Chen, and the Sword Peak disciples all cultivate fire or metal techniques. When your qi clashes with its aura, it feeds its domain. But I cultivate the pure yin techniques of the Mystic Peak."
She gestured toward the Formation Peak disciples. "My yin spiritual energy directly conflicts with and erodes its flame essence. When combined with the Four Quadrants Sealing Array, my presence at the front will destabilize its core heat, reducing its overall combat effectiveness by at least half. If you place a fire cultivator at the front, its offensive power will remain at its peak."
The camp fell silent.
The four Formation Peak disciples looked at each other and nodded in agreement. "Junior Sister Li's reasoning is sound, Captain. The array requires a cooling focal point at the eye to suppress the drake's inner fire. Her yin qi is the best fit."
Seeing the unanimous agreement of the squad, Zhang Hao hesitated. He looked at Li An's slender, fragile figure, an instinctual urge to protect her warring against the logical tactical reality.
"Very well," Zhang Hao conceded reluctantly, gripping his spear tightly. "Junior Sister Li will hold the frontline eye. The two Sword Peak disciples and I will split into pairs to guard the left and right flanks. Chen Wu and the Punishment Peak disciples will hold the rear, providing ranged support. Remember: our goal is the demon core. No one takes unnecessary risks."
The following morning, beneath a blood-red sky, the battle began.
The Molten Armored Drake was a terrifying monstrosity over thirty feet in length. Its body was encased in thick, obsidian-like plates of volcanic rock, with rivers of molten magma glowing brightly between the cracks. When it roared, a shockwave of superheated air flattened the surrounding ash trees.
Boom!
The Four Quadrants Sealing Array activated instantly, four towering pillars of blue light erupting from the earth to cage the beast.
Li An moved first.
Beneath the plain, unremarkable disguise of Li An, the peerless physical architecture of Wu Meng Ting's body responded with frightening speed and balance. Every muscle in her slender waist, hips, and thighs coiled with sublime grace, carrying her forward like a wisp of smoke across the cracked earth.
She gripped the heavy, unedged black iron rod with both hands.
Mystic Yin Sword Art—Second Form: Frost Lotus Bloom!
Though her weapon lacked a sharp edge or point, Li An’s profound comprehension of the sword allowed her to channel her spiritual energy into a lethal weapon. As she swung the blunt rod upward, a blinding crescent of pure, freezing yin energy erupted from the tip, whistling through the scorching air and striking the drake directly beneath its lower jaw!
Clang! Hiss!
The freezing slash did not pierce the stone armor, but the extreme contrast of frigid yin qi striking superheated magma caused the drake’s neck plates to instantly fracture and hiss with boiling steam.
The beast shrieked in agony, its fiery eyes locking onto the small, plain woman before it. It swung its massive, clawed foreleg down like a falling mountain.
Li An’s instincts screamed.
Despite Wu Meng Ting’s incredible coordination, the gap between late-stage Foundation Establishment and the Golden Core realm was an absolute chasm. The sheer kinetic force of the drake's blow compressed the air into a crushing hammer.
She raised the black rod horizontally, bracing her body as the blow landed.
Boom!
Li An was hurled backward across the ash, her boots carving deep trenches in the red soil. Pain exploded through her chest, and a trickle of blood escaped the corner of her lips. Yet before the beast could advance, Zhang Hao’s spear struck like a bolt of crimson lightning, piercing deeply into the fractured armor beneath the drake’s jaw, drawing a fountain of boiling black blood.
"Die, beast!" Chen Wu roared from the flanks, unleashing a barrage of heavy broadsword projections while the Punishment Peak disciples fired heavy spirit-iron ballistas into the drake’s exposed joints.
The battle raged for three brutal hours.
The air grew thick with the stench of ozone, burning blood, and sulfur. The drake fought with savage desperation, thrashing within the shrinking boundary of the sealing formation.
On the frontline, Li An endured the heaviest punishment. Her outer robes were shredded by burning embers and flying rock shards, exposing patches of soot-stained, pale skin beneath. A glancing blow from the drake’s razor-sharp tail had torn a deep, jagged gash across her left upper arm, rendering the limb limp and useless as dark blood soaked her sleeve. Scratches marred her cheeks, and every breath felt like swallowing molten glass.
Yet she never retreated an inch. With one arm, she continually swung the heavy black rod, using the blunt instrument to project pulses of compressed frost that cracked the beast’s burning carapace, creating openings for the rest of the squad.
Finally, with a dozen poisoned iron bolts lodged in its throat and Zhang Hao’s spear driven through its right eye, the Molten Armored Drake let out a dying gurgle and collapsed heavily into the volcanic dust.
Silence descended upon the ruined crater.
Panting heavily, her left arm hanging numb at her side, Li An stepped toward the fallen monster. Using the blunt tip of her iron rod, she struck the shattered armor over the drake’s chest, reaching in with her right hand to extract the prize.
A fist-sized, crystalline sphere emerged—a Golden Core fire demon core, pulsing with radiant, fiery spiritual energy like a miniature sun.
"Junior Sister Li!" Zhang Hao called out, his voice filled with urgent worry. Dropping his spear, he rushed across the crater toward her, reaching into his robes for healing salves. "Your arm—let me see your wound!"
Li An turned toward him, the demon core resting securely in her palm. "It is merely a flesh wound, Senior Brother. We have obtained the—"
Hum!
Before she could finish her sentence, a sharp vibrational hum echoed through the crater.
The blue pillars of the Four Quadrants Sealing Array did not dissipate. Instead, they flared with a sickly purple light, reversing their flow and instantly locking down the entire perimeter. A crushing gravitational pressure descended upon the center of the crater, draining the spiritual energy from Li An and Zhang Hao’s limbs like water through a sieve.
Zhang Hao staggered, his knees nearly buckling as the suppression weighed down upon his shoulders. "What is the meaning of this?! Junior brothers, lower the array! The beast is dead!"
Slow clapping echoed from the edge of the crater.
Chen Wu walked through the purple light barrier, his broadsword resting casually on his shoulder. Behind him stood the other eight disciples—the two from the Sword Peak, the two from the Punishment Peak, and the four from the Formation Peak. None of them carried their weapons in a resting posture; every blade and talisman was primed and aimed straight at the center.
"Lower the array?" Chen Wu chuckled, his rugged face twisting into a cold, mocking sneer. "Senior Brother Zhang, after all these years in the sect, are you truly still this naive?"
Zhang Hao stared at him, his mind struggling to comprehend the scene. "Chen Wu... what are you doing?"
"What am I doing? I am taking my destiny into my own hands," Chen Wu said, his voice hardening with bitter resentment. "You were born with high-grade fire spiritual roots, praised by the peak masters, destined to form a superior sixth-grade Golden Core. But what about me? I have mediocre mid-grade roots! If I form a core with ordinary pills, I will achieve a third-grade core at best—a lifetime trapped at early Golden Core with zero hope of ever touching the Nascent Soul realm!"
Chen Wu pointed his broadsword at the glowing sphere in Li An's hand. "With this Golden Core drake's demon core, refined through an ancient secret method, I can alter my foundation and form a fourth or even fifth-grade Golden Core! I can become a true powerhouse!"
"You gathered these disciples with my resources!" Zhang Hao shouted, betrayal burning in his eyes. "We swore brotherhood! How could you—"
"Brotherhood?" Chen Wu spat. "Can brotherhood extend my lifespan by five hundred years? I spent the last three weeks offering them everything I own—my entire life savings, rare spirit artifacts, and Heavenly Dao oaths promising to hunt cores for each of them once I reach the Golden Core realm. A favor from a future Golden Core expert is worth infinitely more than your empty gratitude, Senior Brother."
Chen Wu smiled coldly. "Once you die here, we will report to the sect that the drake overpowered our vanguard and slain you before we could avenge you. There are no witnesses in the Scorched Wastes."
Zhang Hao’s face drained of all color. He looked past Chen Wu and at the faces of the other eight disciples—men he had forged weapons for, sparred with, and called friends for many years. Every single one averted their gaze, their silence confirming their complicity.
His world shattered in an instant.
Chen Wu then shifted his gaze to Li An, who stood motionless beside the fallen drake.
"Junior Sister Li," Chen Wu said smoothly, holding out an open palm. "You are a talented woman, and you fought bravely today. Hand over the demon core, swear a Heavenly Dao oath of silence, and join us. When I achieve the Golden Core realm, I will personally guarantee your safety and status within the sect. A clever woman like you must know there is no point dying for a fallen genius."
Li An stood completely still, her plain face showing neither fear nor panic.
In her centuries of life across two lifetimes, she had seen this exact scene play out countless times. Cultivators smiling like brothers one moment, plunging daggers into each other's backs for the sake of a single breakthrough pill.
Logic dictated that she should accept. Her left arm was crippled, her meridians were exhausted, and she was trapped in a formation against nine Foundation Establishment cultivators. Even with Zhang Hao, the odds of survival were zero.
Yet, as she looked at Zhang Hao’s trembling, broken posture—the utter despair in his eyes as his entire world fell apart—an ancient, dormant rage stirred in the depths of her soul.
The memories of the Azure Cloud Sect rushed through her mind. The disciples she had burned her blood essence to protect. The elders who praised her until the moment her spiritual roots were crippled, only to discard her like trash when she was no longer useful. The sheer, suffocating injustice of righteous hypocrisy.
They are all the same, Li An thought, her fingers tightening around the cold, unyielding iron rod. The world never changes. But I am no longer that helpless cripple.
"Junior Sister Li?" Chen Wu prompted, taking a step forward. "Your choice?"
"My choice," Li An spoke softly, "is that you are not worthy of this core."
Before Chen Wu could react, Li An flicked her wrist, tossing three high-grade Spirit Recovery Pills into her mouth and swallowing them whole.
Boom!
A terrifying crimson aura ignited around her petite frame as she ruthlessly burned a fraction of her own blood essence! The vast, bottomless ocean of her hidden primordial yin spiritual roots roared to life beneath Li An’s plain disguise.
Though she could not reveal her true cultivation realm, the sheer quality and density of her primordial energy surpassed ordinary spiritual qi by ten times. She circulated the energy in reverse, perfectly replicating the third stance of the Mystic Yin Sword Art!
"Die!" Chen Wu roared, realizing her intent as he lunged forward with his broadsword.
Li An did not swing at him.
Using her right arm, she drove the heavy black iron rod upward toward the sky, unleashing all the compressed, burning yin energy in a single, devastating blade projection.
Mystic Yin Sword Art—Third Form: Shattered Moon Heaven Strike!
A hundred-foot-tall crescent of pure, freezing silver-white light erupted from the blunt rod, roaring toward the ceiling of the purple array like a dragon soaring into the heavens!
BOOM!
The four-element sealing formation groaned, buckled, and then shattered into a million dazzling shards of purple light! The violent backdraft of spiritual energy knocked all nine traitors off their feet, throwing Chen Wu violently into the dirt.
"Move!" Li An yelled, grabbing Zhang Hao’s collar with her right hand.
She did not hesitate. From her spatial ring, she retrieved a handful of high-grade Wind Escape Talismans she had personally drawn centuries ago. Slapping three onto Zhang Hao’s chest and three onto her own, a howling gale enveloped them, launching both cultivators into the sky like two streaks of emerald lightning, vanishing across the jagged volcanic ridges before the traitors could even rise.
An hour later, the magical energy of the escape talismans sputtered out.
They crashed into a narrow, shadowed ravine miles away from the battle site. Li An dragged Zhang Hao toward a hidden cliffside cavern, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps.
She knew they had left faint traces of blood and ash along their flight path; with nine seasoned cultivators pursuing them, they would be tracked within hours.
Reaching into her storage ring, Li An pulled out a set of twelve intricately carved jade formation plates—the concealment, illusion, and defensive arrays she had painstakingly crafted weeks ago to ensure complete privacy during her monthly cycles.
With swift, practiced motions, she buried the plates at the cavern entrance and activated the nodes.
Hum...
A faint ripple distorted the air. From the outside, the cavern entrance completely vanished, replaced by the seamless illusion of solid, unbroken rock, while the internal defensive barrier locked the interior in absolute sensory silence.
Inside the dark cave, Li An collapsed against the cold stone wall, sliding down until she sat on the dirt floor.
Her face was as white as freshly fallen snow. Her left arm was mangled and caked in dried black blood, and the reckless burning of her blood essence had sent a violent rebound through her meridians.
The only fortunate reality was that Wu Meng Ting’s primordial yin roots were exceptionally robust; unlike her former yang roots, they had not cracked under the strain. But the backlash was brutal. A terrifying, bone-numbing chill swept through her body, causing her teeth to chatter uncontrollably as waves of nausea gripped her stomach.
A few paces away, Zhang Hao sat slumped against the opposite wall.
His spear lay forgotten on the ground. His eyes were wide, glassy, and completely hollow, staring into the darkness of the cavern.
The shock of Chen Wu’s betrayal had completely shattered his sanity. If it were only Chen Wu, he could understand greed. But nine people... nine brothers from different peaks whom he had trusted with his life, all bought off with empty promises and blood money.
Was everything a lie? Zhang Hao thought, his mind spiraling into dark, suffocating madness. Many years of forging for them... sparring with them... drinking with them... was none of it real?
His gaze slowly drifted toward the shadowy figure slumped against the wall.
Li An.
Suspicion, sharp and poisonous, bloomed in his fractured mind. Why did she save him? She was a loose cultivator who had always remained distant and aloof. Did she save him only to keep the Golden Core demon core for herself? Was she waiting for him to lower his guard so she could strike him down and take his spatial ring too?
Trust no one, a dark voice whispered in his ear. Strike first before they kill you.
Zhang Hao’s hand slowly reached down, his trembling fingers closing around the cold shaft of his spear. He rose to his feet, taking a silent, predatory step toward the defenseless woman in the shadows.
Just as he raised the weapon, a sharp, choked sound broke the silence.
Cough!
Li An doubled over, violently vomiting a mouthful of dark, clotted blood onto the stone floor. Her slender frame began to convulse with violent, uncontrollable shivers, her hands clawing at her own robes as frost visibly formed across her eyelashes and lips.
"C-Cold..." she gasped, her voice barely a faint, pitiful whimper. "So... cold..."
Zhang Hao froze.
The spear slipped from his numb fingers, clattering loudly against the cavern floor.
He stared at his own open hands, a wave of profound horror and self-loathing crashing over him like a tidal wave.
What was I about to do?
This was Li An. The woman who had fought beside him on the frontline, who had taken the drake’s lethal blows to protect the squad, who had burned her own blood essence and shattered an entire array just to drag him out of the jaws of death. She was sitting in a pool of her own blood, freezing to death from saving his miserable life—and he had almost raised his spear against her out of cowardice and paranoia.
Zhang Hao fell to his knees in the dirt, letting out a ragged, self-mocking laugh filled with bitter tears.
I am pathetic, he thought, tears tracking down his soot-stained cheeks. I swore to protect her. I swore I would show her warmth. And in the end, she nearly died to save me, and I repay her with suspicion.
Wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, Zhang Hao scrambled forward on his knees until he reached her side.
He knew nothing of advanced medicine or meridian healing, but his spatial ring was packed with high-tier medicinal pills prepared by his sister, Zhang Ling, from the Pill Peak. With trembling hands, he pulled out porcelain bottles of Blood-Replenishing Pills, Vitality Salves, and Warming Qi Elixirs.
"Junior Sister Li, hold on," Zhang Hao urged, his voice cracking with emotion as he gently lifted her head, carefully placing two fragrant crimson pills between her cold, trembling lips. "Please... swallow them. I will guard you. I swear on my life, no one will hurt you."
Li An swallowed the pills with difficulty, her heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the medicinal warmth began to fight against the raging frost in her veins.
In the pitch-black, sealed cavern, surrounded by enemies on all sides, the fragile thread of their survival now hung entirely upon the shattered trust they were forced to rebuild together.