The fall lasted only a heartbeat.
Cold wind tore past them, sharp enough to slice through cloth and skin. Liuxue clutched Yining's hand, her fingers digging desperately into his. His grip trembled feeling a little too weak, slipping, slipping!!!
"Liuxue!" he choked out.
"I've got you! Don't let go!"
But the void rushed around them like a living storm, pulling at their bodies, at their souls. Silver mist curled around her legs, dragging her downward with a force far greater than gravity. The air thickened, swallowing her voice.
Yining's fingers slipped another inch.
"No—Yining!" she gasped.
She reached deeper, pulling on anything she could. Her seal flared, her veins burned, her vision dimmed. For a moment, she wasn't falling but she was suspended, trapped between two unstoppable forces.
Something cold tugged at her chest.
The scroll.
It pulsed violently as if responding to the void's call. A shockwave rippled outward, breaking the mists around them in a circular burst.
And suddenly
the fall stopped.
Not gently.
It felt like slamming into invisible water. The air thickened, hardened, then softened again. Liuxue's body twisted as they slowed abruptly, dropping the last few feet onto a surface that wasn't stone, wasn't earth it was?
Just… soft mist.
She hit first, rolling painfully. Yining landed beside her with a groan.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Breathing hurt.
Thinking hurt.
Everything hurt.
Liuxue finally pushed herself onto her elbows. Her hair clung to her face, damp with cold mist.
"Yining," she whispered, "are you…?"
"I'm alive," he croaked. "Barely."
He lay flat on his back, staring at the swirling lights above them as if reconsidering every life decision that led him here.
Liuxue let out a shaky breath in half relief and half disbelief.
The world around them was nothing like the cavern above.
They stood on a vast ocean of drifting fog, solid enough to hold weight, yet shifting beneath their feet like restless water. Wisps of pale silver floated through the air, drifting like fireflies. Above them stretched a sky of endless twilight, neither day nor night but only muted shades of violet and blue.
Yining finally sat up, hugging his arms to his chest.
"This is impossible," he whispered. "We should be dead. We jumped into a bottomless chasm."
"We didn't jump," Liuxue corrected, wincing. "We were thrown."
"Not helping."
A faint breeze rippled across the mist underfoot. It carried something cold, something ancient… something watching.
Liuxue turned slowly, senses sharpened by the lingering pulse of the authority fragment.
"This place… it's not part of the physical shrine," she murmured. "We fell through a spatial fracture."
Yining looked around with wide eyes. "A hidden dimension?"
"More like a sealed pocket of reality."
He shivered. "That sounds worse."
"It is."
She pushed herself fully to her feet, though her legs trembled. The scroll burned against her ribs a little hot, urgent, and louder than before. It wanted something. Or feared something.
Yining stood next, leaning heavily on her arm for balance.
"We need to find a way out," he said softly. "Before the Messenger..."
"He won't follow us here."
"Are you sure?"
"No."
Yining deflated immediately. "Wonderful."
Liuxue walked forward, testing the misty surface. It supported her weight but shifted like a flexible skin, rippling beneath her steps. Lights swirled beneath its surface, forming patterns that faintly resembled script—moving, rearranging, dissolving.
Yining crouched beside one. "These symbols… they're older than Celestial script. Maybe primordial."
"They're weakened," Liuxue murmured. "We shouldn't stay long."
A low hum vibrated through the air.
Yining froze. "Did you hear that?"
Liuxue nodded. "We're not alone."
The mist ahead of them parted.
Before Liuxue could react, a shape emerged and it was tall, cloaked in twilight, its outline half-formed like a shifting mirage. Unlike the Cycle Breaker's remnant soul, this presence had weight. Shadowy tendrils drifted from its form, brushing the mist as it moved.
Liuxue stiffened.
Yining took a step back. "Liuxue… what is that?"
The figure stopped a few paces ahead.
Its voice drifted out as soft, melodic, and impossibly deep.
"You carry the Reversal."
Liuxue tightened her grip on the scroll hidden in her robe.
"Who are you?"
The being tilted its head.
"Once, I had many names."
The mist swirled behind it, shifting into ripples of silver.
"But for you… I am the one your soul once rejected."
Liuxue's breath caught.
Yining whispered, "Rejected…? Liuxue, what did your past self....?"
The being stepped closer.
The twilight veil around its form lifted just enough to reveal eyes—pale, luminescent, ancient.
Eyes that seemed to recognize her.
Eyes that made the world feel thinner.
"You are incomplete."
Liuxue's heartbeat stuttered.
"Your past was stolen."
The air trembled.
Yining grabbed her arm in fear. "Liuxue we should go. Now."
But the figure wasn't finished.
Its voice softened until it was almost gentle.
"Come closer, Shen Liuxue.
Let me return to you what was taken."
Liuxue's body reacted before her mind did,her seal flaring, her chest tightening, her breath catching in a mix of readiness and dread.
Because for the first time…
Her soul responded.
Not in fear.
But in recognition.
She took a tiny step forward.
"Liuxue—don't," Yining pleaded.
The figure extended a hand.
Mist swirled around them violently, drawn toward that outstretched palm.
The world trembled.
And the being whispered ever so slightly
"You and I are bound far deeper than the Heavens dare remember."
Liuxue's pulse thundered in her ears.
She swallowed hard.
And just as her fingertips almost touched the figure's hand,
A voice echoed from behind her. Sharp. Urgent.
"Step away from him."
Liuxue froze.
Yining froze.
The twilight mist split open,
And another figure emerged.
This one solid.
This one real.
This one alive.
A young man with obsidian hair, cold star-bright eyes…
and a presence that felt like a blade against her throat.
His gaze locked onto hers.
"Liuxue. Come here."
Her breath stalled.
Yining stammered, "Who—who is he?"
Liuxue's heart raced.
Because she recognized that gaze.
Not from memory,
But from her soul.