As the green light from the lantern vanished, the darkness greedily swallowed everything once more. The opacity that reclaimed the cell felt heavier, as if the stone walls of the Nine Solitudes had just sipped the remnants of the final conversation.

  Zhi Xuan leaned his back against the damp wall, feeling the biting cold pierce through his tattered robes, yet his gaze remained sharp, cutting through the void before him.

  "Walking not to arrive..." Ruo Xianxue whispered, her tone no longer cynical, but filled with a strange contemplation. "Zhi Xuan, you truly have surpassed the limits of human sanity. Other practitioners build palaces within their minds, seeking peace upon eternal peaks. But you... you build a path upon nothingness."

  Zhi Xuan stroked the now-cooling blade of the Heavenly Sword. "Palaces will crumble, peaks will be eroded by time. Only the path remains, Great Saint. As long as my steps have not ceased, the world is not yet finished with me."

  Silence reigned again, far more profound and primal. In that lonely cell, time was no longer a flowing river but a still ocean. Zhi Xuan closed his eyes, allowing his breath to align with the pulse of the Nine Solitudes. Every inhalation brought a sharp Yin chill, but every exhalation expelled the spiritual impurities that had settled at the bottom of his soul.

  Days turned into weeks in deep meditation. Outside, the bells of the Holy City might have chimed hundreds of times, but here, Zhi Xuan knew only his own heartbeat. His body, once hardened and covered in wounds, slowly began to heal. His skin, half of which was jet-black, now emitted a subtle, silver glow.

  On a moonless night, when the darkness felt most oppressive, the Heavenly Sword beside him suddenly let out a sharp chime. The black blade vibrated violently, emitting a dense black aura that shrouded the entire room.

  Zhi Xuan opened his eyes. His sapphire beads glinted sharply. "You feel it too, don't you?"

  "Yes," Ruo Xianxue hissed, her voice filled with alertness. "Something is approaching. Something that does not originate from the Sacred Pavilion... something carrying the stench of the past."

  From behind the thick stone walls came a faint scratching sound, resembling thousands of insects crawling over a dry surface. The air inside the cell suddenly became sweltering, and a pungent scent of sulfur began to permeate Zhi Xuan’s senses.

  Suddenly, a crack appeared in the stone floor. From within the fissure, thick black smoke billowed upward, forming the silhouette of a horned creature with eyes glowing like embers of hell.

  "An envoy from the Soul-Devouring Demon Sect?" Zhi Xuan rose slowly, his hand gripping the hilt of the Heavenly Sword. "Qing He was truly careless to allow these underground rats to sneak into her sacred place."

  "Gu Fengyan..." the creature’s voice was raspy and vibrating, carrying a frequency capable of damaging the meridians of ordinary practitioners. "Our Master sends his regards. He desires that Heavenly Sword, and in exchange, he will lead you out of this cursed prison and grant you a throne in the Northern Territory."

  Zhi Xuan smirked coldly. He lifted the Heavenly Sword, letting its deathly aura clash with the envoy's black smoke. "Tell your master... this Gu never deigns to accept charity from sewer rats. If I wish to leave, I will shatter these gates with my own strength. And as for this sword..."

  Zhi Xuan swung his sword in a single, lazy yet lethal stroke. A flash of black light surged, cleaving the black smoke in two. "This sword knows only one master. And it does not like to share its food with lowly creatures like you."

  The smoke silhouette shrieked in agony as its soul essence was torn apart by the Heavenly Sword. "You will regret this, Gu Fengyan! The darkness you hold will swallow you, and when that time comes, we will come to harvest your remains!"

  As the black smoke vanished, silence returned to the cell. Zhi Xuan remained standing tall, his breath steady despite the increased pressure in the room. "A sickening bluff," Zhi Xuan murmured as he sheathed the Heavenly Sword.

  The black blade seemed to sigh in disappointment at the brief banquet that failed to satisfy its thirst. Remnants of the black smoke from the Soul-Devouring Demon Sect still left soot marks on the cracked marble floor, but the foul aura was quickly neutralized by the cold of the Nine Solitudes.

  "They have begun to move," Ruo Xianxue spoke, her tone heavy with calculation. "Your presence in this prison is no longer a secret. To the demon worshippers of the North, you are a chess piece too valuable to be left to rot, or an enemy too dangerous to be allowed to rise."

  Zhi Xuan sat cross-legged once more, but this time his back did not lean against the wall. He sat upright, like a sword driven into the heart of the earth. "Let them come. This Nine Solitudes may be a prison for others, but for me, it is a fortress. Here, the internal essence of every intruder will be suppressed by Qing He’s law, while I... I am already accustomed to dancing within these shackles."

  Time continued to melt away in the womb of the earth. One moon passed; the silence of the Nine Solitudes began to consume the voices inside Zhi Xuan’s head. Two moons passed; the hunger for spiritual essence began to gnaw at his marrow, yet he remained as immovable as a boulder in the middle of a Yin ocean.

  Entering the third moon, the remnants of Ye Xishui’s Morning Dew Essence stored within the cracks of his Dao Heart began to assimilate perfectly. The soft blue light was no longer a foreign entity, but merged with Zhi Xuan’s blood, creating a strange new harmony—a balance between pure destruction and eternal regeneration.

  The fourth and fifth moons were a time when the darkness attempted a counterattack. Shadows of the past, the faces of those he had slaughtered, appeared in vivid hallucinations. However, Zhi Xuan used the Heavenly Sword as his soul’s anchor. He no longer fled from his sins; he swallowed every regret and turned it into fuel for his internal fire.

  Finally, the seventh moon arrived.

  The atmosphere inside the Nine Solitudes cell changed drastically. The piercing cold now seemed to submit to the figure sitting in the center of the room. Zhi Xuan no longer looked like a suffering prisoner. His dark purple hair touched the floor, shimmering with a faint glow. His pale face appeared sharper, with lines of authority that transcended his hundreds of years of age.

  "Seven moons are complete," Ruo Xianxue whispered, her voice trembling with irrepressible awe. "Zhi Xuan, you did not just survive... you have swallowed this silence."

  Zhi Xuan slowly opened his eyes. There was no longer a wild ruby glint; all that remained were a pair of sapphires so clear and deep, as if the entire secrets of the night sky were stored within. He exhaled, and a puff of white vapor escaped, carrying the last remnants of meridian impurities purified by the pressure of Qing He’s law.

  "These shackles..." Zhi Xuan lifted his wrists. The golden seals placed by the law enforcers were now cracked and fading, not because they were broken by force, but because Zhi Xuan’s essence had transcended the sealing itself.

  ZRRTT—!

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  With one deep breath, Zhi Xuan moved his energy flow. Instantly, the seals shattered into light-dust that drifted away, swallowed by his skin. He stood with the grace of a ruler newly awakened from a long slumber. His body felt light, yet every muscle fiber stored an explosion of power capable of toppling mountains.

  The Heavenly Sword beside him chimed loudly, as if joining the celebration of his exile's end. The black blade no longer emitted an uncontrollable bloodlust, but a calm, lethal coldness—a sign that the sword and the master had reached a higher level of unity.

  "The ninth bell will soon chime up there," Zhi Xuan murmured. His voice now carried a heavy resonance, authoritative like thunder hidden behind clouds. "It is time to collect the debt from the world that thought I had been extinguished."

  Suddenly, the heavy stone gate of the cell shifted with a harrowing metallic groan. Light from the corridor outside began to enter, illuminating Zhi Xuan’s figure standing tall in the darkness. At the threshold, the Gatekeeper of the Nine Solitudes with his pale green lantern reappeared.

  "You have exceeded my expectations, young man," said the Gatekeeper, his voice filled with a respect never seen before. "Out there, the competition has reached its peak. The Blue Cloud Fairy and the Eternal Snow Fairy have found their Dao Protectors. Yet, even the Heavens cannot move the Morning Dew Fairy’s heart to choose the geniuses that have gathered."

  "The Morning Dew Fairy..." Zhi Xuan murmured, his voice low yet sharp, cutting through the remaining silence. The name brought back the scent of peach blossoms that had once washed his spirit during the darkest nights.

  Zhi Xuan stepped out of his cell, his bare feet touching the cold marble of the corridor. Every step he took left a ripple of essence that was immediately absorbed back into the ground. The Gatekeeper of the Nine Solitudes gave way, his lantern swaying gently as if bowing in respect.

  "The outside world has changed much while you were huddled here, Gu Fengyan," the Gatekeeper continued, guiding him toward the spiraling stairs leading to the surface. "The Holy City is now filled with geniuses from the seven directions. They come bringing mountains of jade and ancestral treasures, vying for a position beside Holy Fairy Ye."

  Zhi Xuan smirked thinly, an expression now calmer yet far more dangerous. "I will only accept that if the Ancient Cultivation Technique is included. Of course, the girl who sacrificed her essence is not something that can be taken so easily by them."

  As they reached the final gate separating the underground prison from the outside world, Zhi Xuan paused for a moment. He closed his eyes, feeling the first gust of wind slipping through the door's crack—a wind carrying the scent of incense from the West Flower Tower and the distant bustle of humans.

  "Zhi Xuan," Ruo Xianxue spoke from within his soul, her tone full of burning anticipation. "Feel it. The air up there is filled with overflowing fighting intent. They think you have become ashes, but today, you will show them that the Southern Devil does not know the word 'extinguish'."

  BRAAAK—!

  The giant gate opened with a thud that shook the earth's foundations. Bright sunlight flooded in, forcing Zhi Xuan to squint for a moment. Once his vision recovered, he found himself back at the plaza of the West Flower Tower, yet the altar appeared deserted, leaving only the distant commotion.

  "The Dao Protector Arena," Zhi Xuan murmured. His voice was low, yet it carried a resonance that caused the dust around his feet to swirl in a small vortex. "It seems they wasted no time in dividing the spoils."

  He stepped forward, his tattered black-and-white robes fluttering in the mountain wind. Despite his shabby clothes, the aura radiating from his body far surpassed the elegance of the great clan geniuses. Every inch of his meridians now flowed with energy that was denser, purer, and colder.

  "Don't just stand here, Zhi Xuan," Ruo Xianxue hissed, her voice filled with suppressed bloodlust. "The stench of those arrogant geniuses can be smelled from here. I can feel the vibration of spiritual essence overflowing from the mountain peak. They are feasting upon your suffering."

  Zhi Xuan did not answer. He moved his right hand behind him, gripping the hilt of the Heavenly Sword. The black metal felt warm, pulsing in sync with his heartbeat. He turned toward the north, where high mountains loomed, where every slope was part of the Holy City.

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his sapphire eyes toward the Heavenly Cloud Peak, where thousands of banners from great clans fluttered amidst a mist reddened by the sunset. The faint sound of cheering and the thud of spiritual essences clashing in the sky signaled that the great event had reached its deciding stage.

  "Seven moons have passed, and they have forgotten the six hopeful lives swept away by the wind," Zhi Xuan said coldly.

  He began to walk, but no longer with a limp. Each footfall on the ground created a ripple of essence that froze the grass around him, leaving silver-glowing frost trails. He walked through the streets of the Holy City; every side of the road carried a pleasant scent and was full of happiness. However, that was only for his eyes—not for those who saw him.

  Zhi Xuan's footsteps on the marble streets were silent, yet his presence was like a black cloud covering the moon in the middle of a festival. Practitioners who were laughing loudly, whispering about dowries and clan glory, instantly froze as the figure passed.

  "That... it's impossible," whispered a disciple of a minor sect, the jade cup in his hand trembling until its contents spilled. "He was supposed to have crumbled inside the Nine Solitudes. No one can emerge from there with their sanity intact!"

  Zhi Xuan did not turn his head. His gaze was locked straight onto the mountain peak where spiritual energy soared like dragons fighting for a pearl. A few innocent children, not understanding, ran around the street. Some of them stopped in front of Zhi Xuan; his tall frame, exceeding that of a normal practitioner, drew their attention.

  The children stopped, looking up with stiff necks to stare at the tall figure standing like a black tower in the middle of the Holy City market bustle. A red-cheeked boy, who had been holding candied fruit, stared at Zhi Xuan’s tattered robes with pure curiosity, without a hint of the fear that plagued the adults around them.

  "Mister..." the small voice broke the stifling silence, so clear it pierced into the depths of Zhi Xuan’s soul. "Why do you look so sad? And why... are there so many dried red stains on your clothes?"

  Zhi Xuan stopped his pace. He looked down slowly, letting his dark purple hair fall to cover part of his pale face. His sapphire eyes, which usually looked upon the world with eternal coldness, now collided with the twinkle of the boy’s eyes, which had not yet known betrayal or the metallic scent of blood.

  "I am not sad, little one," Zhi Xuan replied, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears—too soft, almost like the whisper of wind lamenting in the branches of a peach tree. "These stains are but the remnants of a long road. Like a fishing hook in the ocean."

  The little girl beside him, wearing a red ribbon in her hair, stepped forward and pulled the edge of Zhi Xuan’s tattered robe. "Mother said this city is a place for Immortals, but Yi'er doesn't understand—shouldn't Immortals live above the clouds, Mister?"

  Zhi Xuan was stunned for a moment. The touch of those tiny fingers on his robe felt heavier than the weight of the Corpse Mountain Seal that had once pressed upon his back. He knelt on one knee, leveling his height with the little girl named Yi'er.

  "It is very cold above the clouds, Yi'er," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice carrying a melancholic tone that Ruo Xianxue had not heard in hundreds of years. "Many people race to climb there, thinking the sunlight will warm them. But when they arrive, they realize the clouds are but a collection of vapor that cannot be stepped upon, and the sun there only burns the eyes until they are blind to the colors of the earth."

  The boy with the candied fruit frowned, trying to process Zhi Xuan’s words. "Then why do you keep walking toward that mountain? There are many fireworks and loud noises there. Father said it's a party to find a Protector, but your face doesn't look like someone who wants to party."

  Zhi Xuan fell silent, his eyes staring at the sticky candied fruit in the boy’s hand, remembering a very deep-buried memory—of a little sister who had once asked for the same thing under the peaceful sky of Xing Luo. That memory now felt like a sword strike to his heart.

  "I am not going there to party, little one," Zhi Xuan reached out, hesitating for a moment before finally stroking the boy’s head with a very stiff, yet careful movement. "I am going there to find something—perhaps to extinguish a great fire if necessary, so it doesn't hurt you."

  "Are you a hero?" Yi'er asked with sparkling eyes, her hand still not letting go of Zhi Xuan’s robe.

  Zhi Xuan smiled bitterly, an expression that looked more like a groan than joy. "No, Yi'er. I am not a hero who brings light. I... I bring the night so that you can sleep peacefully."

  The boy tilted his head, his large eyes blinking slowly. "Bringing the night? But isn't the night scary, Mister? Mother always tells me to come inside before sunset because there are monsters lurking in the dark."

  Yi'er, the little girl with the red ribbon, released Zhi Xuan’s robe and reached for his jet-black left hand, which was different from his right. She blew on his palm gently, as if her small breath could peel away the darkness that had settled there.

  "Cold," Yi'er murmured, her chubby cheeks puckering sadly. "Your hand is like the ice I found by the river during the snow season. Is there no blanket where you live? Or is there no one to hold your hand so it feels warm?"

  "Yeah," the boy added, his face wrinkling in sadness like Yi'er’s. "Why is your hand different? Were you burned by something? That must hurt a lot. I would cry all night if the porridge in my bowl was too hot."