The lower western passage of the Demon Sealing Ruins was silent.
Black mist drifted between cracked walls, and broken stone lamps hung crookedly from ancient pillars, their flames long extinguished. Old formation lines flickered faintly across the ground, not fully dead, not fully alive, as if they were breathing in their sleep.
Fang Lin moved through the darkness without sound.
His face was no longer the same as before, and his aura had been thinned until it seemed weak and forgettable. Shadow Breath wrapped around him, blending his presence into the surrounding darkness. If an ordinary Qi Conjunction cultivator passed nearby, they might not notice him at all.
But Fang Lin was not careless.
The ones hunting him were not ordinary cultivators. They were Middle Spirit Foundation sect geniuses from the three Rivercloud sects, disciples with higher cultivation, deeper resources, more experience, and orders to kill.
Fang Lin paused beside a broken wall and lowered his eyes.
Inside his spiritual sea, the grey stone floated silently. Beside it, the dark flame of the Nine Abyss Shadow Scripture burned with a quiet depth. Two secrets. Two paths. Two things he could not afford to lose.
The three sects wanted the inheritance.
If they took it, Fang Lin might lose the only true clue he had gained since leaving the Green Bamboo Sect. The darkness legacy had reacted to him. The ruins had opened for him. The grey stone had recognized something here. Behind all of it, faintly, he could feel the shadow of a larger truth.
Uncle Wei.
His parents.
The grey stone.
His strange soul.
His origins.
Every answer seemed to stand beyond a door, and the legacy was one of the keys.
Fang Lin slowly clenched his hand. "I cannot lose it."
His voice was almost soundless.
It was not greed. It was not pride. If he lost this path, he might lose the trail leading to everything he wanted to know. Who were his parents? Why had Uncle Wei disappeared? Why did the grey stone react to ruins, demons, and ancient inheritances? Why had his life always felt as if it were covered by a layer of fog?
He did not know.
But he would know.
Even if he had to cut through every sect genius standing in his way.
A faint sound came from the passage behind him.
Footsteps.
Slow, steady, and unhurried.
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed, but he did not move.
A figure appeared at the end of the passage, dressed in white robes marked with silver wave patterns. A long narrow sword hung at his side, and his eyes were cold enough to match the blade. Lu Han of River Sword Sect stood there with his suppressing talisman hiding most of his aura, but to Fang Lin's soul perception, the pressure around him was still clear.
Sharp.
Deep.
Dangerous.
Lu Han had already reached the Middle Spirit Foundation Realm, and unlike Qin Yuesheng, his sword aura carried a deeper and more settled edge. He stopped twenty steps away, his gaze sweeping over Fang Lin. For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Then his attention locked onto Frost Wind, where a faint cold aura lingered around the blade.
"I found you," Lu Han said.
Fang Lin did not answer.
Lu Han looked around. There was no Yan Chi, no Guo Zhen, no recruited cultivators, and no witnesses. Only him and Fang Lin stood inside the broken passage.
A faint smile appeared on his face. "So this is fate."
Fang Lin looked at him calmly.
Lu Han slowly placed his hand on his sword hilt. "Huo Lan is dead. Qin Yuesheng is crippled. Meng Shi is badly injured. Several disciples from the three sects were killed." His gaze sharpened. "And you obtained the inheritance beneath the altar."
Fang Lin replied, "You came for it?"
"Of course."
Lu Han did not deny it and neither did Fang Lin. His voice was cold and direct. "Inheritances belong to those strong enough to keep them."
Fang Lin's eyes remained still. "Then why did your three sects recruit outsiders?"
Lu Han's smile faded. "Because insects can enter places where hands cannot reach."
The passage seemed to grow colder.
Fang Lin looked at him. "So the recruited cultivators were bait."
"Tools," Lu Han corrected calmly. "Bait implies they had value to the prey. Tools only need to be used."
For a moment, Fang Lin said nothing.
He had already guessed it, but hearing it spoken so plainly still made something inside him grow colder. The Green Bamboo Sect had factions, schemes, arrogance, and hidden knives, but Rivercloud City was different. Here, people smiled while preparing graves.
Lu Han took one step forward. "Give me the legacy. I can give you a quick death."
Fang Lin looked at him. "And if I refuse?"
Lu Han drew his sword.
Silver light flowed along the blade like river water beneath moonlight. "Then I take it from your corpse."
The moment his voice fell, Lu Han vanished.
His speed was too fast for ordinary Qi Conjunction cultivators to follow. His sword arrived before his body seemed to move, a silver line cutting toward Fang Lin's throat.
Fang Lin's pupils sharpened.
Flowing Wind Steps carried his body sideways. The sword missed his throat by a hair, but the silver sword Qi curved immediately, forcing him to raise Frost Wind.
The two blades collided.
Cold Qi and river sword Qi exploded between them. Fang Lin slid back three steps, while Lu Han remained still.
Lu Han's eyes narrowed slightly. "You blocked?"
Fang Lin did not answer. His left foot touched the ground, and a frost mark appeared silently beneath him.
Lu Han attacked again. This time, his sword was faster. One strike became three, and three became nine. Silver sword lines filled the passage, sealing every direction.
Fang Lin's expression remained calm, but his heart sank slightly.
Strong.
Lu Han was far stronger than Qin Yuesheng. The difference was not only Qi quantity and realm. His sword intent was deeper, his speed was higher, and his control was sharper. Every strike carried pressure that could tear through Fang Lin's defense if he misjudged by even a small amount.
But Fang Lin did not retreat blindly.
He stepped into the gaps.
Frost Wind moved again and again, meeting the silver sword lines with precise strikes. Each collision numbed his arm slightly. Nine Nether Phantom Body activated quietly, strengthening flesh and bone, while the faint white life force beneath his skin repaired tiny tears before they could worsen.
Lu Han's sword pressed harder.
"Not bad," he said, his voice still calm, though surprise had appeared in his eyes. "You are only Late Qi Conjunction."
Fang Lin stepped aside, leaving another frost mark on the wall. Lu Han's sword cut past his shoulder and sliced open his robe. Blood appeared, but Fang Lin ignored it. Wind Break Palm compressed silently, and he struck toward Lu Han's ribs.
Lu Han's gaze changed. His sword twisted downward and blocked Fang Lin's palm.
Compressed wind erupted.
Lu Han slid back half a step.
Only half a step.
But his expression finally changed.
A Qi Conjunction cultivator had forced him back. Even half a step was unacceptable.
Fang Lin's eyes remained cold.
He moved again.
This time, Shadow Breath activated.
His figure blurred into the darkness. Lu Han's brows furrowed. For one instant, Fang Lin's presence did not vanish, but it slipped, like a shadow passing under water.
Lu Han's sword swept behind him.
Frost Wind struck from the side.
Sparks flew. Lu Han reacted in time, but his sleeve was cut open, and a thin line of blood appeared on his arm.
The passage became silent.
Lu Han looked at the blood, then slowly raised his gaze. The faint arrogance in his eyes disappeared.
"You wounded me."
Fang Lin said calmly, "You bleed like everyone else."
Lu Han's sword aura surged.
The suppressing talisman on his chest flickered, and for a moment, the ruin seemed to notice his Spirit Foundation aura. The walls trembled faintly before Lu Han suppressed himself again.
His eyes became colder. "I wanted to preserve strength. It seems that was unnecessary."
His sword rose, and silver Qi spread through the passage like a river breaking its banks.
Fang Lin's expression became serious.
Lu Han stepped forward. "River Severing Sword."
The sword descended.
A silver arc filled the entire passage. There was no room to dodge, because the attack was not aimed at Fang Lin alone. It was cutting the passage itself.
Fang Lin's eyes sharpened.
Frost Trace Sword Art activated.
All the frost marks he had left behind lit up at once, pale lines connecting across the floor and wall. At the same time, he raised Frost Wind with both hands. Nine Nether Phantom Body erupted through his arms, Wind Break Palm compressed along the sword edge, and Shadow Breath wrapped the blade in a thin layer of darkness.
He struck upward.
Silver sword Qi and pale frost-dark sword force collided, shaking the passage violently. Cracks spread across the walls, and dust fell like rain. Fang Lin was thrown backward, his back smashing into a stone pillar. Blood rose in his throat, but he swallowed it.
Lu Han also took three steps back.
His right hand trembled.
His eyes widened slightly.
He had used a Spirit Foundation sword technique. Even while suppressing his aura, it should have heavily injured Fang Lin. But Fang Lin had blocked it. Not perfectly, but he had blocked it.
Lu Han stared at him, and disbelief finally appeared in his eyes. "How can a Qi Conjunction cultivator be this strong?"
Fang Lin pushed himself away from the pillar. Blood slid from the corner of his mouth, and his breathing had grown heavier, but his eyes remained steady. Inside his spiritual sea, the grey stone pulsed. The dark flame burned. Life force repaired his body, while death force gathered quietly in his shadow.
Fang Lin looked at Lu Han. "You are not enough."
The words were soft.
But they struck Lu Han harder than any sword.
Not enough.
A Middle Spirit Foundation sect genius was not enough.
Lu Han's face became cold. "Do not be too arrogant."
Fang Lin stepped forward. "I am not the one that is being arrogant."
His figure disappeared.
Shadow Breath and Flowing Wind Steps merged. For a breath, Fang Lin seemed to vanish into the broken darkness of the passage. Lu Han swept his sword in a full circle, silver Qi cutting through the air, but Fang Lin appeared below the sword line.
His left hand pressed toward Lu Han's abdomen, and a faint black thread coiled around his palm.
Death force.
Lu Han's pupils contracted.
Danger.
Real danger.
He immediately retreated. Fang Lin's palm missed his abdomen but brushed his robe, and the protective Qi around Lu Han's waist darkened and withered. A piece of jade armor hidden beneath his robe cracked.
Lu Han's heart shook.
If that palm had landed fully, even he would have suffered.
Fang Lin did not stop. Frost Wind pierced forward. Lu Han blocked. Fang Lin changed angles. Another frost mark appeared, then another, then another.
Lu Han suddenly understood.
Fang Lin was not trying to overpower him directly.
He was building a battlefield.
Every step, every sword, every retreat, and every collision had purpose. Frost marks, shadow traces, broken stone, narrow angles, all of it was being used.
Lu Han's expression grew ugly.
A Qi Conjunction cultivator was forcing him to think carefully.
This was no longer a simple hunt.
This was a battle.
A real battle.
Worse, he could feel Fang Lin adapting. The longer they fought, the more dangerous Fang Lin became.
Lu Han's pride told him to kill Fang Lin alone. His greed told him to seize the inheritance alone. If he called Yan Chi and Guo Zhen, the legacy would have to be shared. Perhaps they would even fight over it afterward.
But if he continued alone...
Lu Han glanced at the cracked jade armor beneath his robe.
His eyes darkened.
There was a chance he would lose.
Not large.
But real.
That was enough.
He could not gamble with a legacy that allowed a Late Qi Conjunction cultivator to fight him to this point.
Fang Lin sensed the change in his expression. His eyes narrowed.
Lu Han suddenly retreated. He slashed his sword sideways, forcing Fang Lin back, then crushed a silver message talisman.
Fang Lin moved instantly, Frost Wind cutting toward Lu Han's hand, but the talisman had already activated. Silver light shot upward, pierced through the passage ceiling, and vanished into the ruins.
Thousand-Mile Sound Transmission Talisman. Cost: 500 low-grade spirit stones per talisman.
It is a one-use communication talisman that can send a short message across a great distance, but inside places like the Demon Sealing Ruins, formations and spatial interference can weaken its range.
These Talismans given by the sect were somewhat expensive. And he only had a few of them.
Lu Han smiled coldly. "You are strong."
Fang Lin's gaze turned colder. He knew about the "Thousand-Mile Sound Transmission Talisman." Feng Jiu'er had given him one of this when she gave the "rewards". But, he was almost a hundred thousand miles far away from the sect.
Lu Han continued, "Strong enough that I will not give you time."
The message had gone out.
Yan Chi and Guo Zhen would come.
Fang Lin stepped forward. "Then I kill you before they arrive."
For the first time, Lu Han laughed. There was no ease in it, only killing intent.
"Try."
His suppressing talisman burned brighter, and his Spirit Foundation aura rose again, stronger than before. The ruin trembled. Cracks spread through the walls, and Fang Lin felt pressure descend from every direction.
He knew the situation had changed.
If the other two arrived, he would face three Middle Spirit Foundation geniuses. Three hunters, even with their strength crippled willing to massacre everyone for a legacy. Three disciples backed by sects, resources, and ruthless determination to wipe him out here.
He would not surrender.
The legacy was inside him. The dark flame burned beside the grey stone. It was no longer only a treasure. It was a clue, a path, and a key to the fog covering his life.
His parents.
Uncle Wei.
The truth behind everything.
Fang Lin's hand tightened around Frost Wind.
His body hurt. His meridians ached. His soul pressure had already been used repeatedly. But his eyes did not shake.
In the darkness of the ruined passage, Fang Lin stepped forward again.
Lu Han raised his sword.
Silver river light surged.
Frost and shadow gathered around Fang Lin's blade.
Far away, two powerful auras turned toward the signal.
Yan Chi smiled.
Guo Zhen began moving.
The hunt was becoming a siege.
And in the lower western passage, before the other two arrived, Fang Lin and Lu Han collided again.
This time, neither held back.
The ruins shook beneath their battle.