The crimson eyes pulsed, two malevolent suns in the suffocating black. They weren't just observing; they were drinking. Every flicker of Lie’s awakened aura felt like a fresh wound, a siphon pulling at his very core. The Qi-draining array was a net, and those eyes were the predator at its center.
Siyue stumbled, a choked gasp escaping her lips. The cold was a living thing, gnawing at her bones, stealing the Qi from her veins. Her spear, usually an extension of her will, felt like a lead weight. She reached out blindly, finding only the empty, crushing void.
“The cold... it’s not just the array,” she rasped, her voice thin. “The foul Qi... it freezes cultivation, congeals the blood. We’ll die before the drain takes us.”
Lie’s internal pathways, already a thorny mess of decay, screamed under the dual assault. The curse inside him thrummed in response to the crimson eyes, a twisted kinship that made his skin crawl. He pushed back against the encroaching chill, forcing a thin thread of his own limited Qi to circulate.
“Close ranks,” Lie commanded, his voice raw, betraying none of the terror that clawed at him. “We circulate together. Share the heat, or freeze apart.”
He heard Siyue hesitate, cloth rustling against stone as she shifted. Her arm brushed his, then her shoulder, a sudden patch of heat in the abyssal cold. Their robes were a barrier, but the sheer lack of space forced an undeniable proximity. Lie could feel the faint tremor in her body, the frantic beat of her heart against his arm.
“Your Qi... it’s chaotic,” Siyue whispered, her voice closer now, laced with a strange blend of exasperation and grudging curiosity. “Wild. But... potent. Even through this drain, it fights.”
Lie grunted, focusing on pushing his serpentine Qi. It was a vicious current, tearing through his ruined channels, but it brought a fleeting, brutal heat. He felt Siyue’s own Qi, disciplined and razor-sharp like her spear, intertwine with his, a stark contrast of controlled power meeting untamed ferocity.
“It’s the only way to keep the rot at bay,” Lie bit out, forcing his chest into an even rhythm. “And to keep from becoming a frozen husk in this damn void.”
Minutes stretched into an eternity. The crimson eyes continued their silent, hungry vigil. The combined Qi circulation formed a fragile barrier against the cold and the drain, but it was a battle they were slowly losing. Siyue leaned into him, not out of weakness, but a mutual understanding of survival. Her hair, loose and fragrant, tickled his cheek.
“You know,” Siyue said, her voice softer now, a stark departure from her usual combative tone. “I hated you at the arena. Your arrogance, your destruction... but your drive. It’s insane. I respect that.” Her hand, cold and delicate, found his arm, gripping it with surprising strength. “Most cultivators, they’d break under half of what you carry. But you... you just laugh and punch harder.”
Lie felt a strange, unfamiliar heat kindle in his chest, unrelated to the shared Qi. A flicker of something akin to understanding, perhaps even... connection. He shifted, turning his head slightly toward her in the pitch black until her exhalations brushed his lips. Tension sharpened between them, an abrasive spark in the suffocating dark.
Before he could speak, before that spark caught, his cursed vessels screamed. A violent tremor ripped through him, far worse than anything the array had inflicted. The chaotic draconic power in his veins surged, clashing with the tainted mire that had permeated his blood from the beast he’d killed. It was an internal war, a maelstrom of agony that starved his lungs.
Siyue flinched back, a sharp cry escaping her. “What was that? Your Qi just... convulsed!”
“Silence, whelp!” Ao Bantian’s voice, a gravelly rumble, echoed directly in Lie’s mind, cutting through the pain. “The foul energy from that brute you slaughtered... it’s not just a curse, it’s a *homing beacon*. A scent. The eyes in the dark, they smell it on you, boy. That thing was a vanguard, a tether.”
Lie gasped, clenching his fists. “A homing beacon? For what?”
“For *him*,” Ao Bantian spat, his ethereal presence radiating cold fury. “The one who cursed you in the womb. The Grand Zenith Tournament, you fool! The prize isn’t some glory, it’s an *altar*. Designed to drain the victor’s bloodline, harvest it for his resurrection. They’re collecting ingredients. And your dragon-infused, cursed blood... it’s the main course.”
Lie’s world narrowed to a pinpoint of rage. A sacrificial lamb. All this time, he was nothing but a pawn, a prize for a resurrected demon. The thought ignited a fire in his chest, consuming the pain, burning away the fear. He wouldn’t be prey. Not to them, not to anyone.
“Ao Bantian,” Lie growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through Siyue. “Give me power. All of it. Now. And you’ll get your damn treasure.”
“Such desperation! But your veins can barely hold a trickle!” Ao Bantian snarled, his greed warring with his alarm. “This is suicide!”
“Then lend me your ancient power, and I’ll force it to hold!” Lie roared, a primal sound that tore through the void. He seized Siyue’s spear, his grip iron-hard, his eyes, even in the absolute dark, burning with an infernal light. “Siyue! Your spear intent! Focus it! Channel it through my channels!”
Siyue, momentarily stunned, instinctively reacted to the sheer, unbridled force of his will. Her spear intent, usually reserved for precision strikes, surged through the shaft into Lie, a torrent of pure, unyielding force. Lie didn’t just channel it; he *fused* it. Ao Bantian’s chaotic dragon spirit, raw and destructive, met Siyue’s spear intent, focused and piercing, inside his protesting channels. It was a violent, unstable marriage of power.
A guttural scream tore from Lie’s throat as the combined force ripped through his body, his pathways shredding and knitting in a horrifying cycle. He felt the array around them shudder, the crimson eyes flash in alarm. This wasn’t a gentle push; it was an explosive detonation from inside.
“BREAK!” Lie bellowed, driving the infused power outwards. The air around them didn’t just crack; it *shattered*. A blinding white light erupted, violently purging the crushing darkness. The array, designed to drain and contain, buckled under the impossible, internal pressure.
Dust, rock, and fragments of shattered cultivation runes rained down as the entire wall of the Gauntlet exploded outwards. Lie and Siyue were flung into a blinding glare of sunlight, gasping for air, their bodies aching, but free. They lay amidst the rubble, coughing, the stench of ozone and pulverized stone filling their nostrils.
As their vision cleared, Lie saw him. Elder Kuang, sprawled amongst the debris, his eyes wide and vacant, a dark stain spreading across his chest. Standing over the body, a bloody talisman clutched in his hand, was Bu Jinhuan.
Bu Jinhuan, usually a picture of comical panic, was pale, his eyes wide with a cold, grim knowing. He looked at Lie, then at Siyue, then back at the fallen Elder. He took a hesitant step toward them, his voice a strained whisper, barely audible above the ringing in Lie’s ears. “The inner pavilion... they’re all in on it. They’re rigging the tournament. For a blood sacrifice.”