He raised the Scythe of Death, and the second black Soul Ring glowed with a dim light.
The light was utterly unlike the purple of the First Soul Ring. It was deep as an abyss, as if it could swallow even light itself.
"Second Soul Skill, Dark Scale Breath-Severing Slash."
The scythe blade swept through the air.
A pitch-black slash tore through the air. Wherever it passed, the Shadow Tide melted away like snow beneath the blazing sun.
It wasn't cutting them apart. It wasn't dispelling them.
It was corroding them.
The power at the core of the ten-thousand-year-old Dark Scale Flood Dragon became the darkness of the abyss, corroding all the Soul Power contained in those Shadow Tentacles until not even a trace remained. More terrifying still, that corrosive force surged upstream along the Soul Power connection, hurtling straight for Ya Jiu himself!
Ya Jiu's expression changed drastically.
He felt the Soul Power he had released being devoured at a terrifying rate, as though an invisible maw were gnawing at his meridians.
"Not good!"
He tried to retreat, but it was already too late.
The pitch-black slash tore through the Shadow Tide like the scythe swung by the god of death, hurtling straight for his face!
Ya Jiu's pupils contracted. He could only watch as death closed in.
But it stopped dead three inches from his brow.
Qian Anci lowered his scythe and stood still.
The gray-white Death Qi ebbed away like the tide. The pitch-black slash dissolved into a wisp of black smoke and vanished into the air, as if it had never existed.
"You were gracious."
His voice remained calm, as if that spar had been no more than an ordinary practice match.
Ya Jiu stood frozen, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.
He knew he had lost.
He had lost completely and utterly.
His opponent had used only one strike.
No—two moves.
The First Soul Skill had forced him to reveal his position; the Second Soul Skill had crushed him head-on.
If Qian Anci hadn't held back, he would already be a mangled corpse, devoured by the abyss.
And his opponent was only a six-year-old child.
At the edge of the training ground, a glint flashed in Ya Yi's deep-set eyes.
The other eleven exchanged looks of astonishment.
Ya Liu swallowed and murmured, "Th-this is the power of a ten-thousand-year Second Soul Ring?"
Qian Anci paid no heed to their shock.
He put away the Scythe of Death, walked over to Ya Jiu, and held out his hand.
"Thank you for the guidance."
Ya Jiu stared blankly at that small, tender hand. Only after a moment did he come to his senses and hurriedly take it.
"Your Highness, you honor this humble servant too much."
He lowered his head. His voice was hoarse, yet quivered almost imperceptibly.
It wasn't fear.
It was reverence.
Qian Anci pulled him up, then turned to Ya Yi.
"Ya Yi."
"This subordinate is here."
"Starting tomorrow, have one person take turns sparring with me each day."
Ya Yi lowered his eyes. Nothing showed on his gaunt face, but the right hand hidden in his sleeve slowly tightened around the token.
"...This subordinate obeys."
When Qian Anci left the training ground, the setting sun had stained Spirit City's domed skyline blood-red.
He walked through the corridor and stopped at the corner.
A Golden Figure leaned against a pillar. Her white dress was spotless, and her golden hair blazed like flames in the twilight.
"Did you win?"
Qian Renxue didn't turn around. Her voice was cool, as if she were asking casually.
"By luck."
Qian Anci came to stand beside her, and together they gazed at the sunset in the distance.
Qian Renxue turned her head to look at him. The sunset was reflected in her golden eyes, along with his white-robed figure.
"Ya Jiu is the weakest of the twelve, but he's also the hardest to deal with." She paused, the tips of her ears turning faintly red beneath her golden hair. "His Shadow Evasion once gave even a Soul Saint trouble."
Qian Anci glanced sideways at her. "Are you worried about me, Sister?"
"Who's worried about you?"
Qian Renxue turned her face away and gazed into the distance, her voice deliberately cooling.
"I just... didn't want you to lose and disappoint Grandfather."
She paused, then added, "By the way, are you free tomorrow? Come walk around Spirit City with me. Mother's birthday is in a few days, and I want to pick out a few gifts for her."
Qian Anci's gaze shifted.
Mother.
When Qian Renxue spoke that word, it carried a tenderness he had never heard from her before.
Like carefully cupping a tiny flame in the depths of winter, knowing it would burn her palm but unable to bring herself to let go.
He remembered Bibi Dong's eyes, as still as a dead pond, in the great hall that day.
There was no warmth in them, no light—only boundless hatred.
And now Qian Renxue gazed toward the Pope's Palace, her golden eyes brimming with hope.
She was still dreaming.
Dreaming that the woman who had never held her might one day, on some morning, suddenly smile at her.
Qian Anci fell silent for a moment.
"All right."
His voice sounded calm as ever.
Qian Renxue turned her head. A flicker of light crossed her golden eyes, then she quickly looked away again.
"Don't get the wrong idea. I just... just need someone to carry things."
"Mm."
"And don't tell Grandfather!"
"Mm."
Qian Renxue seemed to have more to say, but in the end she only pressed her lips together, folded her arms, and leaned against the pillar, gazing at the fading sunset with him.
The setting sun stretched their shadows long.
One white, one gold, they intertwined across the bluestone ground in a quiet scene.
In the distance, the lingering chimes of the Seventy-Two Bell Towers drifted through the air.
Qian Anci gazed at the blood-red sky, gray light settling in his eyes like an abyss.
"She's still waiting for an answer she'll never receive."
Castorice's voice sounded in the depths of his heart.
"Will you tell her?"
Qian Anci didn't answer.
He simply stood there in silence, letting the twilight warm the white of his robes.
What was he supposed to tell Qian Renxue?
Tell her that her mother was sinking beneath the shadow of the Rakshasa God?
Tell her that the maternal love she yearned for had been gnawed away by hatred many years ago?
Tell her that one day, even her father would die by his hand?
No.
At least, not now.
He glanced sideways at the figure pretending to admire the view.
"Sister."
"Hmm?"
"About the gifts... I'll help you pick them out."
Qian Renxue was taken aback, then gave a soft snort. "Who needs your help... But if you dare pick something ugly, I'll..."
"You'll tell Grandfather I bullied you?"
"You!"
Qian Renxue whipped around and glared at him with her golden eyes, but when she caught the faint smile at the corner of his lips, she froze for a moment.
The smile was faint, like mist about to fade in the twilight.
Yet the words on her lips somehow slipped away.
"...I'm going."
She turned her face away, one corner of her white dress fluttering in the evening breeze as she strode toward the end of the corridor.
"Don't you dare be late tomorrow morning!"
Qian Anci remained where he was, watching the Golden Figure disappear around the corner. The smile in his eyes slowly faded.
"Grandfather, you can stop hiding. Sister's already gone."
He suddenly spoke, calmly looking toward the corner.
A moment later, Qian Daoliu stepped out from the corner, wearing a helpless expression.
"You brat, you certainly have sharp senses."
Qian Daoliu came to stand beside him, his hands clasped behind his back.
He gazed in the direction Qian Renxue had gone, a softness almost impossible to detect in his eyes.
"Xue'er... has longed to grow closer to her mother ever since she was little."
He paused, his voice dropping. "Unfortunately, no number of gifts can untie the knot in Bibi Dong's heart."
Qian Anci lowered his eyes. "Your grandson understands."
Qian Daoliu turned to look at him, a glint flashing in his eyes. He rested a steady hand on Qian Anci's shoulder.
"Xue'er's tongue is sharp, but her heart is soft. She may seem proud, but deep down, she's lonely."
He withdrew his hand, his gray robe fluttering in the night breeze. "Since she's accepted you as her younger brother, spend more time with her."
"Spirit City is vast, but there are few people she can speak honestly with."
Qian Anci lifted his eyes, meeting Qian Daoliu's golden gaze, seasoned by a lifetime of experience.
"Your grandson will obey."
Qian Daoliu nodded slightly and turned to leave, but then stopped.
"By the way, go out with her tomorrow."
He glanced back.
"You're children. You should act like children!"
"Don't go worrying about so much. If the sky falls, us tall ones will hold it up."
With that, his gray robe flickered, and his figure vanished into the dusk.
After a long while, Qian Anci let out a soft sigh. Yes, if the sky fell, the tall ones would hold it up.
"Castorice."
"Hmm?"
"Tomorrow... what kind of gift should I pick?"
Castorice's voice carried a lazy, amused lilt. "You're asking me? I don't even know Bibi Dong."
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