CHAPTER 79

  Resonance

  LUO FAN

  — ? —

  “A-Fan, wake up.”

  The familiar voice jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open.

  "Lord Ruan!" I gasped, frantically searching for him. But he was nowhere in sight. Yet, it had sounded so real, as if he had been standing right before me.

  I found myself slumped against the crumbling wall of a dilapidated castle, surrounded by scattered bones—human and animal alike.

  The memories returned in a rush. I had been battling the leader of a skeleton army when a powerful attack blasted me away. I barely managed to escape, stumbling through these ruined halls before collapsing here. Then Ruan Yanjun’s voice had roused me. I couldn’t tell if it was merely a trick of my exhausted mind or if my dark core was still linked to his, alerting him to my plight.

  A sharp clatter of bones echoed through the hollow chambers, cutting through my thoughts.

  My opponent had found me—a towering skeleton clad in rusted armor, wielding a massive sword. Its aura reeked of decay and malice. Though only a level-three opponent, it had an infuriating advantage. No matter how many times I shattered it, the bones would slither back together, rebuilding its form again and again.

  Gritting my teeth, I forced myself upright and parried its incoming strike. My breaths came in ragged gasps, each one more labored than the last. The constant battles had worn me thin, and the White Vulture inside my body gnawed at my insides like a ravenous beast. My strength was ebbing away, and with it, the will to keep fighting.

  But I couldn’t stop—not here, not now.

  I evaded another swing of the skeleton’s blade, twisting just in time to avoid the deadly arc. Summoning what little strength remained, I unleashed a blast of wind energy, hurling the creature against the far wall. Bones shattered upon impact, scattering across the floor. Yet, I knew it was futile. In mere seconds, the cursed thing would pull itself together once more.

  My limbs trembled, exhaustion sinking its claws deep into my body. A grim thought slithered into my mind—what if this was the end? What if I perished here, trapped in this wretched realm, my body lost to time, never to be found?

  The weight of it constricted my chest.

  “There has to be a way,” I muttered, forcing myself to retreat into a narrow hallway, gasping for breath.

  I glanced around the desolate castle, searching for anything that might aid me. My eyes landed on a strange figure lurking in the shadows—a smaller enemy, humanoid but grotesque, carrying a glass vial. It hissed and lunged at me, throwing the vial at my feet. The liquid spilled out, and before I could react, my feet were encased in solid ice.

  Panic surged through me as I realized I couldn’t move. The creature cackled and advanced, claws gleaming in the dim light. With no other option, I raised my bamboo stick and parried its attacks, using my upper body to defend myself. Each blow sent jolts of pain through my already aching arms, but I held my ground. After what felt like an eternity, the ice finally melted, and I broke free, finishing the creature off with a desperate strike.

  Breathing heavily, I knelt down to examine the broken vial. An idea sparked in my mind. If the ice could immobilize me, it could do the same to the skeleton boss. I searched the creature and found another vial hidden in its possession. This was my only chance.

  Returning to the grand hall, I confronted the skeleton once more. It charged at me with its relentless determination, but I held my ground. When it was close enough, I hurled the vial at its feet. The liquid spilled, and the ice spread rapidly, locking its feet in place. Without hesitation, I focused all my energy on its frozen legs, striking them repeatedly until they shattered into irreparable shards. The skeleton crumbled, unable to rebuild itself without its foundation. For the first time, it fell silent, its ghastly light extinguished.

  I bent down and retrieved a stamp and a key from the remains of the skeleton. I needed the stamp to unseal the gate leading to the next ground. Once inside, I had to locate a hidden chest containing potions and other supplies that could aid me on my journey. Only this key could unlock it. The contents of that chest were invaluable. They were the only things keeping me alive.

  Staggering out of the castle, my legs threatened to give out beneath me. Ahead stretched an endless valley, a desolate expanse of jagged rocks and twisted trees. It was the path to the next area, yet the sight of it filled me with dread. I knew the journey ahead would be long, fraught with relentless battles and unforgiving conditions.

  My body was failing, every step forward dragging me closer to the brink of death. I wasn’t sure if I would survive long enough to face the master of this realm.

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  Exhausted, I sank to the ground and leaned against a large boulder. The cold stone pressed against my back as I stared up at the overcast sky. My vision blurred, and my breathing slowed. The White Vulture’s relentless assault on my body felt worse than any enemy I had faced, and I feared that my strength would give out before I found any answers.

  As the edges of my consciousness faded, a name slipped past my lips like a fleeting whisper. “Lord Ruan…”

  Even now, after everything he had done, my thoughts drifted to him. Perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something far more complicated. Either way, his name lingered in the air as I succumbed to the pull of exhaustion, unsure if I would ever wake again.

  *****

  RUAN YANJUN

  — ? —

  "Lord Ruan..."

  The voice echoed in my mind—clear, vivid, undeniable.

  My eyes flew open as I jolted upright, breath hitching. “A-Fan?” The name escaped me before I could think, my gaze darting around the dimly lit room.

  Nothing.

  For a fleeting moment, I was certain I had heard Luo Fan calling me. But the chamber remained still, save for the flickering glow of a dying candle, its restless shadows dancing across the walls.

  I pressed a hand to my chest, where a dull ache had taken root. Was it merely a dream? A cruel trick of my mind? Or… had his core reached out to mine? But how could it? My own core was nearly dead—poisoned, fractured, barely clinging to its last embers.

  Six months.

  It had been six long months since Luo Fan disappeared. Not a single trace of him had surfaced. Every lead I sent my men to investigate came back empty, and the trail had gone cold. Even the marquis’ and Emperor Gao’s men had ceased their search, concluding that Luo Fan, weakened by his illness, had likely sought a secluded place to die in peace.

  But I refused to accept that.

  Luo Fan was stubborn. He had endured too much, fought too hard. A man with a spine of steel wouldn’t simply vanish into oblivion.

  Desperation had driven me to Guidao Isle, ready to tear that wretched temple apart stone by stone if it meant finding even the faintest trace of him. But my enemies had been waiting. Their ambush was precise, a calculated effort to isolate my disciples before three grandmasters—dark-core bearers from Wun Empire—descended upon me.

  With my core rotting inside me and my body weakened by my own poison, I never stood a chance. The battle left me bloodied, barely clinging to consciousness, before my disciples intervened, dragging me back to Henmei District against my will.

  Even then, I refused to surrender. I demanded to return, to search the temple myself. But my own disciples, led by Huang Wen, turned against me—not with betrayal, but with chains of misguided loyalty. They barred me within my chambers, confining me to my courtyard like a caged beast.

  A prison of my own making.

  My self-inflicted poison had backfired spectacularly. I had reduced myself to a helpless creature, shackled by the very people who once trembled at my command. Never before had I felt such powerlessness. It was infuriating. Humiliating. A wound deeper than any blade, striking at both my pride and my once-unshakable status.

  And yet, I understood.

  With my condition now public knowledge, the vultures had begun circling. Those who had long craved vengeance, those who sought to profit from my downfall, would not waste this opportunity. If not for the fortified defenses of Henmei District and the sheer number of disciples guarding it, my enemies would have already descended upon me.

  I was living on borrowed time, caged while the martial world prepared to devour me.

  My gaze drifted to the bedside table.

  A single hairpin lay there, unremarkable in its simplicity—worn wood, no embellishments, nothing of value. And yet, it was the most precious thing I owned.

  I reached for it, my fingers brushing over its smooth surface. His hairpin.

  I remembered how I had stolen it from him that morning, before our final parting. The same moment I had stolen a kiss.

  Closing my eyes, I allowed the memory to surface. His lips, soft and warm, trembling beneath mine. The faint hint of resistance that melted away into stunned acceptance. He hadn’t pushed me away, not immediately. For a moment, I had dared to hope that perhaps he…

  I sighed, shaking my head. Hope was a dangerous thing, and it had betrayed me far too many times.

  This was all I had left of him now, an old, cheap hairpin that once held his hair in place. A token of a bond I had destroyed with my own hands.

  It had become my last tether to him. A comfort I had clung to for six months of torment, waiting for a man who might never return.

  My chest tightened, reminding me of the predicament I had neglected for the past six months—six months wasted chasing a ghost.

  Perhaps it was time to move on. If I continued to delay seeking a solution, I might fail, and even the gods would not know the extent of the chaos it would bring.

  I set the hairpin down and walked to the tea table, lowering myself onto the seat with deliberate calm. Yet, as soon as I closed my eyes, his voice echoed in my mind again. A farewell. A cruel confirmation of what I had refused to accept.

  The decision before me was difficult, but I had to remember who I was. Ruan Yanjun was never reckless. Never sentimental. He would never compromise himself—or the world—for a missing priest, no matter how precious that priest was to him.

  “Huang Wen,” I called, my voice steady despite the storm within.

  Dawn had barely broken, but I knew he would be awake.

  As expected, he entered swiftly, as if waiting just beyond the door. He dropped to one knee, bowing deeply. “Master, you’re awake early.”

  I ignored his courtesy. He had the audacity to kneel before me while keeping me a prisoner. Hypocritical.

  “Call back all search parties,” I ordered. “The search for Luo Fan is over.”

  Huang Wen stiffened, his face paling. “M-Master?” he stammered, as though I had uttered something unthinkable.

  “You heard me.”

  Disbelief clouded his expression before he dropped to both knees, his composure fracturing. “Please, Master,” he pleaded, desperation raw in his voice. “Just one more month. I swear I won’t fail you. There are still areas we haven’t searched. If we—”

  “Enough,” I cut him off sharply, though my tone softened at the anguish in his eyes. “It’s time to accept the truth. He’s gone.”

  His head bowed, but the flicker of grief in his expression did not go unnoticed. In their short time together, Huang Wen had grown fond of Luo Fan. They all had. But none could compare to what I felt for him.

  “…Understood, Master,” he murmured at last. “I will inform the others.”

  When the door closed behind him, I leaned back, reaching for the hairpin once more.

  I had failed.

  My plan to push Luo Fan toward strength, to guide him into a future where he could survive without me, had ended in disaster.

  And now, with him gone, the weight of the world rested solely on my shoulders.

  If Luo Fan could not fulfill the role I had set for him, then I would have to face the impending catastrophe myself.