Qin Ziyan’s Betrayal?

The chamber's eerie silence lingered like a blade pressed to the throat. Dust still swirled from the collapsed pillars, and Ji Ren leaned heavily against the wall, his breath ragged and shallow. Xiao Lian clutched the ancient dagger to her chest, her fingers trembling as echoes of her past life flickered through her mind like dying embers.

But the moment shattered with the sound of footsteps. They were slow, deliberate.

Xiao Lian tensed, snapping her gaze toward the doorway. Ji Ren tried to straighten, blood dripping from his split lip as he reached for his sword.

And then he appeared.

Qin Ziyan.

His robes were torn, stained with dirt and blood, and his eyes, usually sharp and filled with calculating amusement were shadowed, darkened by something unreadable.

"Ziyan," Xiao Lian breathed, relief flooding her chest.

He stopped a few steps away, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His gaze flicked to Ji Ren, who half-collapsed against the wall, then to Xiao Lian, who was still cradling the relic.

Something flickered across his face, something brief but unmistakable.

Pain.

"I finally found you," he said, his voice quiet, almost too careful.

"You look terrible," Ji Ren coughed, wiping blood from his mouth with a grim smile.

Ziyan didn't respond to the jab. He just kept looking at Xiao Lian, his fingers twitching slightly against the hilt of his weapon.

Inside his head, the shadowy figure still lingered.

"Look at them," the voice whispered, curling around his mind like smoke. "Look how she rushes to his side. How she worries for him. When has she ever looked at you that way?"

Qin Ziyan swallowed, forcing the voice back into the recesses of his mind. He told himself it wasn't true. That it didn't matter. But the bitterness gnawed at him like rust on a blade.

"You're hurt," he finally said, stepping closer to Xiao Lian. "Let me see."

She hesitated, eyes flicking between him and Ji Ren. SIS buzzed faintly in her mind, but the system remained silent as if it, too, was unsure of what to say.

Still, she relented, lifting her hand so Ziyan could examine the wound across her forearm. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, but his fingers lingered longer than necessary.

"Thank you," she whispered, not noticing the way his jaw clenched.

"She will never choose you," the voice hissed again. "Not over him."

Ziyan blinked, shaking his head slightly. He couldn't afford to listen. Not now.

But the crack had already formed.

They didn't have time to rest.

The chamber began to rumble, the carvings along the walls glowing with renewed energy.

"We need to move," Xiao Lian said, rising to her feet. Ji Ren groaned but pushed himself up as well, albeit slower.

Ziyan followed, silent and shadowed, his movements a beat too slow as if he were hesitating.

They navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the pagoda, the magic around them pulsing like a heartbeat. Ziyan kept to the rear, eyes flicking constantly to the back of Xiao Lian's head.

At one point, Ji Ren stumbled. Xiao Lian caught him, slinging his arm over her shoulder without hesitation.

Ziyan froze.

The way she held him, the way Ji Ren let her…the way they didn't even seem to notice him standing there.

It made something twist violently in his chest.

"They don't need you," the voice whispered, its tone almost sympathetic now. "But I can give you purpose. I can give you power."

He wanted to scream.

Instead, he tightened his grip on his sword and kept walking.

They finally reached another chamber, smaller but no less ominous. A teleportation array buzzed to life at the center, and without a word, Xiao Lian stepped onto the platform, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

"We don't have another choice," she said, looking at Ji Ren and Ziyan.

Ji Ren grinned. "We never do."

Ziyan said nothing, his fingers trembling as he stepped onto the platform last.

The array flared with blinding light.

And the world shifted.

.

.

.

The Pagoda's Second Trial – The Forgotten Battlefield

They landed on scorched earth.

The sky was a bruised purple, clouds churning like restless spirits. The ground stretched endlessly, littered with broken weapons and shattered bones.

It was a battlefield.

But not an ordinary one.

Xiao Lian recognized it immediately.

Her chest tightened, her pulse racing.

"This is…"

"The Crimson Feather Sect," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

It was a graveyard. The site where her sect had been annihilated, their warriors slaughtered, their corpses abandoned.

She staggered forward, her breath catching.

"Survive," a voice boomed from the heavens, echoing like thunder. "Or become one of them."

The bones began to move.

The skeletal remains of fallen cultivators twitched and shifted, slowly rising to their feet. Their eyes flared with ghostly light, and in their hands, rusted weapons reformed, flickering with faint traces of spiritual energy.

The dead still fought.

Xiao Lian gritted her teeth, drawing her sword.

Ji Ren cursed, raising his blade despite his injuries. "Of course it's undead warriors. Why wouldn't it be undead warriors?"

Ziyan unsheathed his weapon, but his grip was too loose. His body remained tense, frozen, as he watched the way Xiao Lian stepped in front of Ji Ren without thinking.

"Let them die," the voice urged. "Let the battlefield consume them. Then, and only then, will she finally see you."

Ziyan's hand trembled.

But then the undead attacked.

They moved in waves, relentless and violent.

Ji Ren fought through sheer grit, his body screaming in protest with every swing. Xiao Lian, with her newly enhanced instincts, danced between strikes, her blade flashing like lightning.

And Ziyan...

He hesitated.

Not enough for them to notice. But enough for the shadow in his mind to laugh.

Enough for the doubt to sink deeper.

Enough for him to wonder, just for a second, what would happen if he simply… let go.

Xiao Lian didn't notice.

She was too busy cutting down enemies, her chest heaving, her muscles burning.

But SIS noticed.

"Alert: Qin Ziyan's combat patterns are inconsistent."

Xiao Lian didn't have time to process the warning.

Because the battlefield itself shifted, corpses merging into a towering monstrosity, an amalgamation of broken bodies and shattered weapons, its hollow eyes locked on her.

It lunged.

And at the last possible second, it was Ziyan who blocked the blow.

The force of it nearly crushed him, but he stood firm, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he gritted his teeth.

"Stay... behind me," he rasped, his voice breaking.

Xiao Lian's chest tightened.

Because for all his hesitation, for all the flickers of darkness in his eyes, he was still fighting for her.

But the question remained.

For how long?