Time slowed.
The beast's dark maw widened, fangs gleaming as it lunged toward the injured Yan Ruyin. Her eyes were locked on death, breath trembling, body paralyzed with pain.
Just as the Spirit Devourer's strike came crashing down—
A boom echoed.
A streak of silver shot forward, kicking up a whirlwind of dust and leaves. In that blur of movement, a figure appeared between the beast and the girl.
Ling Xian.
Without hesitation, he reached down and snatched the fallen sword—Yan Ruyin's elegant curved blade, infused with gentle Yin energy and adorned with lotus engravings.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt—
Clang!
A blinding arc of white light exploded from the blade.
Sword Qi.
Untamed and pure, it erupted like a slumbering beast stirred awake. The entire forest trembled as Sword Qi roared to life around Ling Xian, slicing through the air with deadly intent.
His long hair danced with the wind. His aura, once calm and hidden, now surged like a rising tide—cold, sharp, unshakable.
"Back away," he said flatly.
The beast froze, sensing something ancient and lethal.
Ling Xian didn't give it time to react.
He stepped forward and swung the blade—once.
A single, clean stroke.
The ground cracked beneath his feet, and a thin crescent of silver light flew from the blade, slicing through the beast's thick hide like paper. The Spirit Devourer howled in agony, its corrupted qi unraveling as its massive body split diagonally, collapsing in two.
Dead.
Silence fell.
The tension in the air didn't.
Ling Xian stood tall, sword still humming in his grip. His expression was calm, but a deep light flickered in his eyes—recognition.
Sword Qi.
Though this was the first time in this life, his body remembered. The instincts etched into his soul hadn't faded. Only now had they begun to reawaken.
Behind him, Yan Ruyin stared in awe, blood still on her lips. Her chest heaved, eyes wide with disbelief.
"That was… Sword Qi," she whispered.
Ling Xian turned to her, offering the blade back. "Your sword."
She took it with trembling hands, but couldn't tear her eyes off him. "Outer disciples shouldn't… shouldn't have this level of power."
"I'm full of surprises," he replied, voice low and even.
She wanted to ask more—how he learned such techniques, why his Qi felt so ancient and terrifying—but something told her the answers wouldn't come easily.
Instead, she forced a smile. "I owe you my life."
Ling Xian simply nodded and turned away, walking to the carcass of the beast.
He crouched, ignoring the blood-soaked earth, and calmly extracted the monster core—a large, pitch-black orb pulsing with corrupted spiritual energy.
He held it up, frowning slightly. "This might sell well… or be refined."
Yan Ruyin approached slowly, still catching her breath. "You didn't have to save me. Most men would have run."
"I don't run," he said without looking at her. "Besides, I needed your sword."
She blinked, stunned by the honesty.
And yet, there was something magnetic about it. No arrogance. No false humility. Just quiet strength. Confidence that didn't need to be shouted.
She smiled again, this time more genuinely.
"You're an interesting man, Mo Ling."
Ling Xian turned, tucking the monster core into his robe. "We should leave. The blood will attract others."
As they made their way back through the forest, Yan Ruyin followed beside him, stealing glances now and then. Her heart beat faster—not from fear, but curiosity.
Just who was this man?
He didn't flaunt his power. He didn't even seem interested in hers. And yet… when the moment came, he stood between her and death without hesitation.
No Pavilion disciple had ever made her heart stir. But this man? He made her want to know more.
To be Continue....