The colossal beast, scales like jadeite mountains, lunged. Its eyes, burning emeralds of pure, corrupted malice, locked onto the timber ribs of the Grand Hall, a structure painstakingly erected by a hundred eager hands. Debris scattered, the ground groaned under its immense bulk, and raw, tainted miasma washed over Taiheng Peak. He Lianjue, quicker than thought, was already moving. His hand shot to the obsidian hilt of his greatsword, the ‘Shadowfang’, a weapon rumored to drink starlight. A pulse of violet pressure emanated from him, crackling with murderous intent. He would carve this monstrous worm into a thousand pieces for daring to threaten *her* work. For daring to threaten *her*. “Hold!” The shout, sharp as snapped silk, sliced through the air. Lin Wanxiao, a blur of pale robes, darted directly into the leviathan's path, right in front of He Lianjue’s descending blade. She spread her arms wide, a tiny, defiant figure against the backdrop of an enraged elemental titan and a furious underworld tyrant. He Lianjue’s strike, honed by centuries of bloodshed, faltered, stopping a mere hair’s breadth from her ear. The violet haze dissipated, leaving the air humming with residual static. “What in the Abyss are you doing?” He Lianjue roared, his gaze torn between the snarling serpent and the infuriating woman who stood before it. His hand trembled, not from fear, but from the violent redirection of his own momentum. Wanxiao didn’t even glance at him. Wanxiao's gaze was cool and assessing, fixed on the rampaging behemoth, calculating its trajectory, its mass, its yield. “Don’t kill it, you brute! Do you have any idea what this is?” “A destructive, ancient worm that wants to smash your lovely hall?” he countered, disbelief in his tone. The behemoth, sensing the pause, let out another guttural roar, its antler-like protuberances glowing brighter as emerald light gathered in its maw. “It’s a walking, breathing, mountain-sized furnace!” Wanxiao practically bounced on the balls of her feet. “Look at the raw ley-flow it’s generating, even corrupted! We can purify it, redirect it, harness it! Think of the power grids, the ward arrays, the automated herb gardens, the self-warming baths! This is a Tier 1 generator, He Lianjue! A gift!” He Lianjue stared, utterly dumbfounded. A *gift*? The creature that was currently tearing up the newly paved plaza? He felt a strange urge to simply drop his sword and walk away. This woman saw a romantic rival as a heavy lifter, a collapsing cavern as a dust filter, and now, a rampaging mythical beast as an appliance. His dramatic, world-burning affections were met with the pragmatic gaze of a logistics officer. “You want to…plug it in?” Young Master Jin, who had arrived with a small retinue of his carpentry apprentices, gaped from a safe distance. He had been admiring his new arched bridge over the Whispering Creek just moments before the world began to shake. “Exactly!” Wanxiao spun, pulling a crumpled, tea-stained napkin from her sleeve. She smoothed it against her palm, revealing a hastily sketched diagram. “It’s a modified Heavenly Flow Accumulation Array, see? Concentric circles, runic conduits, the central battery here… which will be our giant friend! We just need to guide it into place.” She pointed a decisive finger at the charging beast. “It needs to be *herded*, not harmed! Jin, your construction expertise! Those reinforced girders from the dismantled guard towers – can you rig a temporary containment field? He Lianjue, you’re strong, use your umbral arts to *push* it, not slice it! We need to redirect its charge, funnel it into the outer ring!” He Lianjue gritted his teeth. Push a giant serpent. He, Sovereign of the Underworld, reduced to a glorified cattle dog. The humiliation was almost as profound as the depth of his continued affection. “It’s attacking us!” “It’s confused!” Wanxiao snapped back, already issuing orders to the lesser young masters, who, despite their terror, were scrambling to follow her precise instructions. “It’s been dormant for centuries, rudely awakened! It just needs a purpose!” Chaos erupted into a bizarre, high-stakes game of inter-sect rodeo. He Lianjue, abandoning his intent to slay, began to channel his netherforce into powerful, concussive blasts that pushed against the serpent's flank. The beast roared, lashing out, but the concussive pressure, though immense, was not *piercing*. It felt like being struck by a colossal, invisible fist. Young Master Jin, his face streaked with dirt, barked orders to his apprentices, directing them to deploy shimmering mesh woven from ancient ironwood—nets designed for capturing errant cloud beasts, not mountain-sized serpents, but it was all they had. Jun Liyuan, having finally extricated himself from the Yin-Yang Mortar, now stood on a distant hill, directing his royal guards to fire volleys of stinging talismans calibrated to nettle the serpent without piercing hide. The colossal beast, thoroughly annoyed and utterly bewildered, thrashed and roared, its coils weaving through the construction site, splintering scaffolding and scattering piles of newly quarried quartz. In the pandemonium, unnoticed by the battling lords and the frantic laborers, Su Qingluo moved. Her movements were fluid, a shadow slipping past the beast's sweeping tail. Her eyes, usually gentle and brimming with concern, held a cold, sharp glint. The chaos was her opportunity. She had feigned exhaustion for days, endured Wanxiao’s tyrannical administrative tasks, all while seething internally. This was her chance to finish what she had started. The core of Taiheng Peak, the true Leyline Nexus, lay vulnerable beneath the main peak. A single, decisive strike, and this entire mountain, this entire cursed sect, would crumble into dust, taking Wanxiao’s meticulously planned revival with it. She reached the entrance of the concealed tunnel Wanxiao had explored, her hand already reaching for the seal. Just as her fingers brushed the ancient glyphs, a deafening shriek tore through the air. The cornered behemoth, in its desperate attempts to escape the relentless prodding of He Lianjue's concussive strikes, coiled back, its tail sweeping with the force of a battering ram. It struck Jin’s newly built bridge, the elegant archway over the Whispering Creek, with a sickening crack. The treated lumber groaned, then splintered, sending a cascade of timber and stone raining down into the ravine. Qingluo, caught too close to the impact, cried out. Her footing gave way. She tumbled, the world spinning, a sharp pain tearing through her side as the collapsing bridge pinned her beneath a massive, ornate crossbeam. Darkness fringed her vision as the timber pressed against her ribs. No! She couldn’t fail now. Not after all this. A primal instinct, deeper than loyalty, colder than hatred, surged within her. Her eyes snapped open, blazing with an unnatural, abyssal violet light. A raw, dark miasma, thick and suffocating, burst forth from her, shattering the crossbeam into a thousand splinters and wreathing her in malevolent shadow. It was the fell power of the Abyssal Void itself, unmistakable and horrifying, laid bare for all to see.

Taming the Leyline Dragon