Three days passed since Li Fan claimed the shard of the First Godslayer’s inheritance. Word had spread, whispered by clouds, carried by beasts, and etched into the dreams of cultivators.

  They called him many things now.

  “The Crownless Flame.”

  “The Heir of Defiance.”

  “The One Who Woke the Gate.”

  But Li Fan cared little for titles.

  He sat cross-legged on a cliff overlooking the Jadeveil Plains, the wind pulling gently at his robes. Yue Xian sat nearby, her guqin in her lap, fingers brushing across strings not in music—but in thought.

  “You’re quiet,” she said at last.

  “The Deep Gate lies beyond the Forsaken Range,” he said. “But maps twist there. Time folds. Paths disappear.”

  “Then we go where paths don’t exist,” Yue Xian smiled softly. “You’re good at that.”

  Li Fan stood, eyes narrowed at the distant storm-choked mountains.

  “It’s not the mountains I fear. It’s what waits beyond them.”

  Night fell quickly as they reached the outskirts of the Forsaken Range. The wind smelled of metal and memory. No stars shone here.

  And in that perfect darkness—a shadow moved.

  A figure stepped from the void. Clad in black silks, barefoot, with a blade forged from seven cursed oaths strapped across her back. Her eyes were silver, but dulled with sorrow.

  “Hello, brother,” she said.

  Li Fan’s breath caught. Yue Xian’s hand froze on her guqin.

  “...Ling’er.”

  “It’s been a long time since the orphanage,” she said. “Longer since you left me to die.”

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  “That’s not—” he began, but she was already drawing her sword.

  “I don’t want apologies,” she whispered. “I want blood.”

  And she moved.

  The cursed weapon, "Ebon Oath," moved like a shadow devouring fire. Every clash between her and Li Fan unleashed screams from the blade itself—echoes of every soul it had taken.

  Yue Xian tried to intervene—but Ling’er flicked a nail and sent her flying with a burst of soul-qi.

  “This is between him and me,” she said.

  “He left me. I paid the price.”

  Li Fan’s mind raced. Her cultivation had reached Spirit Transformation, at least. Her techniques were foreign—dripping in malice and elegance.

  But it wasn’t her strikes that struck hardest—it was the pain in her eyes.

  “I searched for you,” he said between clashes.

  “I thought you were dead—”

  “You didn’t search hard enough!”

  Her blade grazed his shoulder. His flame pushed back, searing her with divine heat—but she smiled through the pain.

  “You got strong, brother. Good. Because I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to deliver a message.”

  She stepped back.

  “The Tribunal sent me. If you walk through the Deep Gate, they’ll brand you Enemy of the Stars.”

  She turned, but paused.

  “Still… a small part of me hopes you make it.”

  “Because if you do, I’ll follow. And then we’ll settle this for real.”

  And she vanished.

  When the dust settled, Yue Xian helped Li Fan to his feet. Blood trickled down his arm, but his eyes burned brighter than before.

  “You okay?” she asked gently.

  “No,” he said. “But I can’t stop.”

  He pulled out a weathered scroll—left behind by the First Godslayer.

  It unfurled to reveal a map that didn’t show terrain—but wounds in the world. Places where reality itself had frayed.

  And at the center: The Deep Gate.

  “It doesn’t open for mortals,” Yue Xian murmured.

  “Only those who have no fate.”

  “Then it will open for me,” Li Fan said.

  Because he had already broken fate.

  And now, he was walking toward what lay beyond it.