They reached the summit of Longming Waterfall.

  Jagged rocks jutted out at every angle. Below, the water plunged into a roaring abyss.

  From here, the entire land of Qin stretched out like a painted scroll.

  (Just a little more…) Duàn Lán thought. (And all of this will be mine. Once I bring the emperor immortality… or take the throne myself.)

  He turned to Xiāng Sī, forcing a smile.

  “So… how long until the dragon appears?”

  “There’s no need to ask,” she said. “You’re going to die here.”

  Her black hair whipped in the mountain wind. Her mismatched eyes glowed with quiet fury.

  Though still dressed as a healer, her presence was now something else entirely—cold, commanding.

  Duàn Lán felt the air freeze around him.

  The sky above darkened. Thunder boomed.

  He shuddered in his armor. His war-hardened face twisted in unease.

  “A demon, then?” he said. “What are you?”

  Xiāng Sī said nothing.

  She inhaled deeply, crossing her hands at her chest.

  Then—light.

  From her fingers shot dozens of threads, glimmering like silk.

  In midair, they thickened into steel wires, silvery and sharp, and wrapped around Duàn Lán in an instant.

  They coiled around his neck, arms, torso—biting into his flesh.

  “D-demon…!” he gasped, straining against them.

  ◆◆◆

  Cāng Xuán once told me:

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  “You have the eye to see evil. To see the hearts twisted by ambition. That is your gift. And your burden.”

  I was never easy to raise. I couldn’t trust anyone. I pushed him away again and again.

  But he stayed.

  He loved me.

  Not as a savior, not just as a teacher—but as someone who truly saw me.

  And that love… saved me.

  ◆◆◆

  Duàn Lán roared, enduring the pain.

  He drew the bronze sword from his belt—a cursed blade, inscribed with ancient characters, glowing with a malevolent red light.

  With brute force, he hacked at the wires.

  His armor split. The threads snapped apart.

  Blood spilled, but he didn’t stop.

  He slashed again—cutting the wires around his face, ripping them off in strands.

  The air glittered with falling threads.

  “You think I’d come here without preparing for monsters?” he spat. “I’m not just a soldier. I’m the next emperor.”

  He grinned through blood.

  “This sword is blessed by Chiyou, the War God. Let’s see if your threads can stand against this.”

  He charged.

  Cāng Xuán taught me: “If a pure soul drinks the dragon’s tears, they may become a dragon.”

  I asked, “What if an evil one drinks it?”

  He looked grave.

  “They become a demon. A threat to all three realms. It is our duty to stop them.”

  ◆◆◆

  Duàn Lán’s blade struck like lightning.

  Xiāng Sī unleashed another flurry of threads—ten more, spiraling like drills, trying to deflect the blow.

  They managed to divert his slash—just barely.

  But Chiyou’s blade cut through them, grazing her thigh.

  Blood sprayed. The fabric of her hakama tore—and Duàn Lán saw it.

  Beneath the wound were shimmering, pale blue scales.

  “You… you’re the dragon,” he whispered.

  “Or at least its kin.”

  “No matter. I’ll kill you all the same.”

  He roared and struck again—this time, the blade plunged into her throat.

  Blood poured from her mouth.

  “Found it,” he hissed. “The reverse scale. The dragon’s weak point.”

  The sword pulsed—darker, stronger.

  He laughed in victory.