The Blood Demon slammed both fists into the earth.
A seismic crack echoed across the battlefield, louder than thunder and deeper than bone. The ground beneath them fractured, glowing with veins of pulsing crimson. A moment later, a pillar of bloodfire surged upward from the earth like an erupting volcano—an infernal storm of Qi condensed into living flame. Trees were uprooted and incinerated in an instant, their trunks disintegrating into black ash. Stones shattered and were hurled like missiles into the sky. The shockwave that followed rippled outward like a crimson tidal wave of raw devastation, reshaping the landscape as it tore forward.
It should have annihilated everything.
But the flames never reached them.
Just before the inferno struck, a shell of shimmering blue light enveloped Yin Shuang, Kai Feng, and Han Long. It formed without warning—perfectly spherical, smooth, and pulsing with deep, ancient energy. The blue glow pushed outward, rippling against the surging wall of bloodfire. The impact hit like the collision of stars, sending a sonic boom that cracked trees beyond the horizon and splintered nearby boulders into dust.
The barrier held.
The inferno rolled around it, dispersing in a cyclone of fury, its red light receding like a vanquished storm.
Inside the sphere, all was still.
No heat. No sound. Only silence.
Then, without flash or warning, the air grew cold—piercingly cold.
A light burst from the center of the sphere—not blinding, but pure, clean, and endless. It wrapped around the trio, folding space in on itself. The burnt forest, the howling demon, the stench of sulfur and ruin—everything vanished in the blink of an eye.
Then came the wind.
Icy. Sharp. Familiar.
Kai Feng gasped, the chill slamming into his chest like a breath drawn from winter itself. His eyes flew open—not to the charred battlefield they'd left behind, but to a realm suspended in sacred stillness.
They stood atop a towering mountain peak, its jagged edge slicing through an ocean of drifting silver clouds. The sky stretched out endlessly above them, not blue, not black, but a vast twilight canvas of dusky purples and pale golds. It was as if the world were holding its breath, paused between dusk and dawn.
Stars shimmered like scattered fireflies across the heavens, while slow streams of light bent lazily across the horizon. The air buzzed with potent, primordial Qi—older than sects, older than written scripture. It seeped into the bones, the meridians, the soul itself, awakening something ancient within each of them.
Yin Shuang inhaled deeply, her lashes fluttering closed for a breath as she let the realm settle around her. A quiet recognition crossed her face—she knew this place. The rhythms of its breath aligned perfectly with the flow of her meridians. The pulse of the ground beneath her felt like a second heartbeat within her chest.
She had been here before.
This was the realm where she and Kai had mastered the Dual Swords Harmony Swordplay together, through mutual understanding and perfect harmony.
Yin opened her eyes slowly. "This is the Celestial Eclipse Realm," she murmured.
Han Long, by contrast, stood frozen, his brow furrowed as his gaze swept the alien landscape. He had never been here—not truly—but the feel of the realm was unmistakable. The press of time. The weight of silence. He remembered this sensation from the depths of the pendant's cave, where he had once been drawn into in a similar fashion.
He narrowed his eyes toward a glowing artifact suspended ahead. "This place…" he murmured, "It's like the dream-world the pendant pulled me into. But this is… different."
Yin nodded, her voice quiet.
Around them, the Celestial Eclipse Realm expanded in every direction with impossible wonder. Waterfalls flowed upward, tumbling into the sky and vanishing into stardust. Floating islands drifted lazily overhead like lotus petals on a cosmic lake. Bridges of silver mist arched between nothing and nowhere, looping into impossible geometries. Temples built of glass and starlight shimmered in the distance, their spires bending at unnatural angles, defying logic and gravity.
The sky itself seemed to curve gently around them, as if they were nestled within a divine observatory, where time was merely another element to be shaped.
Kai's gaze drifted far beyond the horizon—and then narrowed.
There, standing on the distant curve of a crag, was a figure he knew all too well: long white beard, tattered robes, hands tucked behind his back with maddening serenity. His master. The one who had tormented him with wooden canes, dropped him from cliffs, and force-fed him a thousand forms of training.
Kai's mouth opened slightly. "You…"
But before he could take a step forward, the figure vanished—like a shadow at dawn, slipping back into mist.
Above them, the Celestial Eclipse itself turned in stately silence. It was a colossal celestial disc—half blazing sun, half veiled moon—orbiting with dreamlike slowness. Bands of glowing runes circled it in concentric loops, pulsating like a heartbeat heard through layers of time. Its light bathed the realm in an ethereal glow that cast no shadows, yet illuminated every surface, every edge, every intention.
At the center of the peak, suspended midair in solemn silence, floated three artifacts.
The Celestial Eclipse Manual, hovering open, its translucent pages fluttering in a wind that wasn't wind. Each glyph shimmered with layered meaning—inscriptions too complex for ink, too alive for paper. They whispered to the soul, not the mind.
The Peerless Sword, wrapped in soft silver fire, hovered vertically, its tip pointed downward as though awaiting judgment. The blade gleamed with impossible sharpness, the hilt inscribed with ancient runes.
And the jade pendant, turning slowly, emitted a hum so subtle it might have been the sound of space itself exhaling. Upon it was a single, deeply carved sigil, not in any known language, but etched so profoundly that it felt as though it were burned into the concept of existence itself.
The three artifacts pulsed as one—energy, rhythm, purpose—calling the three cultivators forward with silent gravity.
Han stepped toward them, reverent awe in his voice. "This… is not the work of men."
Yin replied without hesitation, her tone quiet and sure. "It sure is a mysterious place"
Kai took a slow breath, his fists tightening. "It brought us here for a reason."
The three stood there a moment longer—shoulders squared, hearts pounding in the sacred quiet—three cultivators caught in the eye of fate, between time and trial.
And then, without warning, a disembodied voice filled the realm.
It was neither male nor female, old nor young. It was not loud, but every syllable reverberated.
"Your time here is brief."