Chapter 53

The Escape and the Road to Hell

Wen Shia's heart is pounded with excitement and disbelief. After an exhausting journey filled with dangers, he had finally found her—Xiang. She was right in front of him, alive, breathing, though something about her seemed off. His joy, however, was short-lived as reality struck him hard. This was merely the beginning.

Rescuing Xiang wouldn't be easy. There were still countless obstacles ahead, and to make things worse, he had no idea where to find the remaining pieces of her soul. But he couldn't afford to hesitate. His only option was to take one step at a time.

Taking a steady breath, he quietly approached her, hoping to talk to her first. However, she didn't even look at him.

She was busy—her hands moving in a practiced, almost mechanical rhythm as she worked. It was as if she was oblivious to his presence, or worse, choosing to ignore him. Wen Shia's heart clenched. Had she forgotten him? Or was she pretending?

Carefully, he reached out and called her name, "Xiang."

For the first time, she looked up. Her gaze met his for a fleeting moment before she shook her head. Her voice was calm, devoid of recognition.

"I don't know you. Do you know me?"

Wen Shia felt like the ground beneath his feet had vanished. His breath caught in his throat.

Her voice.

After all this time, after all the struggles he had endured, he had finally heard her voice again. It was soft, familiar, yet distant. He had longed for this moment, but he never imagined it would be like this.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a cautious step closer. "I've come to take you out of here," he whispered.

She didn't react. Maybe she hadn't heard him, or maybe… she simply didn't care.

But Wen Shia couldn't waste time. His heart ached at the thought of her not remembering him, but he had to act. Slowly, he pulled out a soul-sealing bag from his waistband. He whispered an ancient mantra, his voice steady and low, and held the bag toward her.

In an instant, a soft, silver glow surrounded Xiang. Before she could react, her soul was drawn into the bag, disappearing into its depths.

Just as Wen Shia turned to leave, a sharp voice rang out.

"Stop right there!"

His body tensed. A guard had spotted him.

Without thinking, Wen Shia turned and sprinted away. His heart pounded against his ribs as he darted through the dimly lit pathways, shadows stretching in every direction. He didn't dare look back.

The sound of heavy boots thundered behind him. But then—something strange happened. The guards stopped abruptly.

Wen Shia risked a glance over his shoulder.

They had frozen at the edge of the boundary.

Realization hit him. They couldn't follow him beyond this point.

Relief barely had time to settle in when a loud horn—a Bolo—shattered the silence. The sound sent a chilling signal through the air.

An escape attempt had been detected.

Immediately, all the outer guards were put on high alert.

Wen Shia cursed under his breath. His cover was blown. Within moments, he heard the synchronized stomping of dozens of guards rushing to block every possible exit. He was trapped.

Instinctively, he reached for his spiritual sword, ready to cut through his enemies if necessary. But then—he hesitated.

If he used his power, it would reveal his identity.

The consequences would be catastrophic.

Grinding his teeth, he forced himself to let go of his sword's hilt. Instead, he chose another approach—hand-to-hand combat.

The first guard lunged at him with a spear, aiming straight for his chest. Wen Shia twisted his body, dodging at the last second before countering with a sharp strike to the man's neck. The guard crumpled to the ground.

Another soldier swung a heavy sword toward his head, but Wen Shia ducked, then spun around, landing a powerful kick to the man's stomach. One by one, he took them down, dodging and countering with perfect precision.

But just when he thought he had fought off enough guards to escape, a new threat appeared.

A tall figure stepped forward, parting the sea of guards. His presence alone made Wen Shia's breath hitch.

The Head Guard.

Unlike the others, this man didn't seem entirely human. His eyes glowed faintly, his aura brimming with spiritual energy. He radiated power—an unnatural, terrifying kind of power.

"You are not an ordinary intruder," the Head Guard said, his voice calm yet chilling. His gaze locked onto Wen Shia like a predator sizing up its prey.

Before Wen Shia could react, a blast of spiritual energy surged from the Head Guard's palm, hurtling toward him like a storm.

In a flash, Wen Shia summoned a protective shield around himself. The attack struck the barrier with an ear-splitting explosion before rebounding.

Nothing had touched Wen Shia.

The Head Guard's eyes narrowed. He had underestimated his opponent.

"A living soul… completely intact," the Head Guard murmured, realization dawning in his expression. "You are a great warrior, aren't you?"

Wen Shia remained silent, his muscles coiled, ready to strike if needed.

But then—the Head Guard smiled. An eerie, knowing smile.

"Capture him alive," he ordered. "Take him back."

The guards immediately rushed forward, their weapons gleaming under the dim torchlight.

But Wen Shia was smarter than them.

Instead of fighting, he used his agility to evade their strikes, slipping through the smallest openings between them. He darted toward the forest's edge, zigzagging to avoid capture.

When he saw a dense thicket of bushes, he dived in, hiding within the thick foliage.

He held his breath.

Seconds passed. Then minutes.

The guards rushed past his hiding spot, their footsteps growing fainter as they searched for him in the wrong direction.

Finally, when he was certain the area was clear, Wen Shia emerged from the shadows.

His escape plan had failed. There were too many guards outside. He needed another way.

Then, he saw something strange—a long line of souls walking in silence toward a massive gate.

His heart sank.

The entrance to Hell.

The souls, battered and broken, trudged forward, their bodies covered in wounds. They were prisoners, sent to suffer for their crimes.

An idea struck Wen Shia.

He pulled his hood lower, quietly slipping into the line. If he blended in, he could sneak past the guards and find another exit.

As he walked, he glanced around, searching for another piece of Xiang's soul.

But she was nowhere in sight.

After what felt like an eternity, the line finally reached Hell's entrance.

The guards stationed at the gate were monstrous creatures, their eyes burning like embers. One of them stepped forward and grabbed Wen Shia's arm.

The moment they touched him, they immediately recoiled.

Their eyes widened in alarm.

"You do not belong here!" one of them hissed. "You are not meant for this place!"

Wen Shia's heart skipped a beat.

Before he could react, the guards made their decision.

"Send him back!"

And before he could stop them, everything around him vanished.

Darkness swallowed him whole.