Zhi Xuan stood frozen. Those innocent words pierced deeper than any blade that had ever penetrated his physical or spiritual form. He stared at his jet-black left hand—the hand that had snapped the necks of a thousand enemies, the hand stained with the blood of great clans—now held within the tiny grasp of a child who cared only for the coldness of his skin.

  "This hand..." Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly, as if the icy foundation of his heart were cracking under the small girl’s warm breath. "This hand was not burned by fire, little one. It has simply spent too long in a place where the light cannot reach. And as for a blanket... where I live, there is one shadow that covers everything."

  The young boy held out his half-eaten candied fruit toward Zhi Xuan. "You can have this, Mister. It’s sweet and sour. Father says if we eat something sweet, a bitter heart will feel a little better. You look like someone who hasn't had anything sweet in a very long time."

  Zhi Xuan stared at the treat, its sugar granules glinting under the fading twilight. He saw his reflection in the children’s eyes—not as a Devil feared across the realms, but merely as a weary wanderer in tattered clothes.

  "Thank you, little one. But keep it for yourself. I am well-acquainted with bitterness," Zhi Xuan said, trying to mask the tremor in his throat.

  Yi’er did not give up. She reached into a small pocket in her dress and pulled out a dull red cloth ribbon. With nimble, tiny fingers, she began to wind it around Zhi Xuan’s black left wrist.

  "Why are you giving this to me, Yi’er?" Zhi Xuan asked, letting the child do as she pleased.

  "So you don't forget the way home," Yi’er replied with a deadly serious tone, as if she were bestowing a sacred-grade relic. "Mother says red is the color of luck. If you wear it, the monsters in the dark won't dare come close. And if you feel cold again, look at this ribbon and remember that Yi’er once blew on your hand."

  Zhi Xuan felt a tightness in his chest, a feeling whose name he had forgotten—perhaps it was grace, or perhaps the remnants of a humanity struggling on the brink of extinction. He gently stroked Yi’er’s head, feeling the soft strands of her hair between his fingers.

  "I will keep it safe," Zhi Xuan promised, his voice now as smooth as silk. "I will guard it better than my own life."

  "You must promise one more thing," the boy added, his face appearing wise beyond his years. "After you finish your business on that mountain, you must come back and tell us. Is there really no candy seller above the clouds? And do the Immortals truly never smile?"

  Zhi Xuan paused, glancing toward the Heavenly Cloud Peak where fireworks were beginning to explode, painting the sky with dazzling, hollow colors. He knew the path he was about to take would once again be drenched in blood. He knew the figure they would see later might no longer be this gentle man, but the Devil who brings the night.

  "If fate allows..." Zhi Xuan rose slowly, the red ribbon tied neatly around his blackened hand. "I will return to tell you that your smiles are far more precious than the entire eternity they seek up there."

  "Hear that, Yi’er! He promised!" the boy shouted, jumping for joy.

  Zhi Xuan turned his body, leaving the crisp laughter of the children behind as it faded into the distance. He resumed his climb toward the mountain peak, but this time, something was different in his heartbeat.

  The dull red ribbon fluttered in the wind, contrasting against his shabby black-and-white robes. Zhi Xuan no longer viewed the commotion at the peak merely as a slaughterhouse; he saw it as an obstacle to be cleared so that children like Yi’er would never need to know how cold the world above the clouds truly was.

  "Bringing the night so they can sleep peacefully..." Zhi Xuan murmured, gripping the hilt of the Heavenly Sword. "Yes, let this darkness be my burden alone."

  His pace quickened, yet he was no longer rushed by the fire of uncontrollable rage. Every step on the stone stairs leading to the Heavenly Cloud Peak carried a rhythm synchronized with the pulse of the earth. The practitioners from various clans guarding the path immediately scrambled aside, their tongues tied at the sight of the man supposed to be buried in darkness, now walking calmly with an aura capable of suppressing their soul essence to its nadir.

  "Zhi Xuan..." Ruo Xianxue whispered from the depths of his soul, her voice carrying a strange note of respect. "That red ribbon... it carries a pure will untouched by any law of karma. You are bringing a human promise into the battlefield of the Gods. This is the most beautiful madness I have ever witnessed."

  "It isn't madness, Ruo," Zhi Xuan replied internally as he gazed at the massive gates of the peak now before him. "It is an anchor. So that when I spill blood later, I do not lose myself entirely to the devil."

  At the summit, the atmosphere was at a boiling point. The magnificent Dao Protector Arena, carved from white jade with cloud patterns, was surrounded by thousands of high-level practitioners. On the main thrones sat the Elders of the Heavenly Leaf Sacred Pavilion, their faces masks of authority.

  In the center of the arena, a youth from the Eastern Sun Clan, Yang Shuo—the younger brother of Yang Jin, who died at Zhi Xuan’s hands seven months ago—stood arrogantly over the body of a challenger he had just defeated.

  "Does no one else dare step forward?!" Yang Shuo bellowed, his voice amplified by the blazing spiritual essence of the sun. "If there are no more, then according to the agreement, I shall be the Dao Protector for the Morning Dew Fairy! I will unite the Sun lineage with the Morning Dew to create a new legend!"

  In a high pavilion hidden by thin silk curtains, Ye Xishui sat rigidly. Her deathly pale face stared blankly at the arena, her hands clutching a sky-blue handkerchief so tightly her knuckles were white. She felt as though her soul were being auctioned in a grand slave market.

  "Xishui," whispered the Eternal Snow Fairy beside her, her eyes reflecting helpless pity. "You must choose. If you continue to refuse, the Grand Elder will no longer be able to shield you from the pressure of these great clans. Yang Shuo is the best among them now."

  "I will not choose," Ye Xishui’s voice trembled, yet remained resolute. "My heart was locked away in the Nine Solitudes. If he does not emerge, then let me wither away my cultivation here."

  Just as Yang Shuo was about to step toward the stage of honor to receive the Dao Protector decree, a blast of freezing wind tore through the mountain peak. The fireworks that had decorated the sky were instantly extinguished, leaving a sudden darkness over the assembly.

  CLANG—!

  The sound of metal hitting the jade floor shook the entire summit. From the direction of the climbing slope, a tall figure in tattered robes appeared. The cold moonlight fell precisely on his shoulders, revealing wild, dark purple hair and a pair of sapphire eyes radiating lethal clarity.

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  "Who goes there?!" Yang Shuo screamed, his killing intent surging as he felt the cold air disrupting his majesty.

  Zhi Xuan continued to ascend, moving with the grandeur of a man hailed as a Devil. Every step left a trail of silver-glowing frost.

  "Zhi... Zhi Xuan?!" an Elder of the Sacred Pavilion stood up, his face turning ashen, his beard trembling violently. "How is this possible?! The seal of the Nine Solitudes... you broke it?!"

  The entire mountain peak instantly fell into a harrowing silence—a silence heavier than a thousand mountains pressing upon the soul. Hundreds of practitioners, from clan elders to core disciples, seemed to forget how to breathe.

  "No... it’s impossible! The Nine Solitudes is a place where even the strongest souls go mad!" screamed an old practitioner from an outer sect. "He didn't just come out... but look at his aura! Why does he feel like a lord of darkness walking under the sun?"

  "Look at his hand!" a female disciple from the Hua Clan shrieked, pointing at Zhi Xuan’s blackened left hand. "That red ribbon... what is that? How could a Devil who plundered the lives of six geniuses carry such a lowly thing on his arm?"

  In the main arena, Yang Shuo felt his solar spiritual essence being forcibly dimmed. He gritted his teeth, his arrogant face twisting into a mask of rage mingled with a fear he refused to acknowledge. "Gu Fengyan! You dare show your filthy face here?! You are a convict who should be rotting underground! Who gave you permission to set foot on this sacred White Jade?!"

  "He really came," whispered Xu Tianzi, gasping for breath as he sat cross-legged to stabilize his essence. "Damn it, Yang Shuo is too strong... I've suffered quite a loss."

  "That filthy Devil... how could he return here?" hissed Mo Shanhai, also stabilizing his injuries. "Does he intend to challenge Yang Shuo?"

  "Look at his face!" cried a practitioner from an information-gathering clan, his voice high with hysteria. "There is no madness in his eyes! Seven months in the Nine Solitudes should have withered his meridians and shattered his soul, but he... he looks as if he just returned from enlightenment on a holy peak!"

  The commotion spread like wildfire across the Heavenly Cloud Peak. The clan elders, who had been sitting calmly, stood up in unison, their spiritual essences exploding spontaneously as an instinctive defense.

  "Insolent! Utterly insolent!" The Elder of the Eastern Sun Clan slammed his jade table until it shattered into pieces. "Elder Qing He! What is the meaning of this?! Why is a high-profile prisoner like him walking free and disrupting the Dao Protector ceremony? Has the Heavenly Leaf Sacred Pavilion intentionally let this Devil insult us all?!"

  Amidst the cacophony of insults and fear, Elder Qing He, sitting on the highest throne, slowly opened her eyes. Her sharp, deep gaze swept over Zhi Xuan standing at the edge of the arena.

  "He did not escape," Qing He said, her calm voice dampening the noise of thousands like an ancient bell stilling a storm. "The punishment of seven lunar cycles is complete. And that seal... it was not broken by violence, but dissolved because his inner vessel has transcended the limits of the sealing itself."

  "Impossible!" Yang Shuo roared, his face flushed with humiliation. "I don't care what seal he transcended! He is my brother's murderer! He is a stain on the cultivation world! Elders, why do we not surround him now? Let the blood of this Devil wash the White Jade altar!"

  "That's right! Kill him!" shouted several clan disciples, still harboring grudges. "The world has no need for a Devil like him!"

  "Zhi Xuan... you truly know no fear," murmured a female Elder sitting next to the Eternal Snow Fairy. She stared at the red ribbon on Zhi Xuan’s wrist with a confused gaze. "Carrying the Heavenly Sword that can cleave the heavens, yet tying a red thread... What are you, exactly? The peak of elegance or the bottom of depravity?"

  Zhi Xuan remained unmoved. He stood silent, turning his face away from the murderous glares and the harsh whispers. He looked at the moon shining in the starry sky before meeting the jeering crowd with a thin smirk.

  "Why?" Zhi Xuan’s voice was heavy, carrying a deep resonance. "I haven't even spoken a single word. Are you too afraid that this hope of the Sun will be as broken as his brother?"

  "Insolent! How dare you compare me to my brother, whom you killed through treachery!" Yang Shuo bellowed. The solar fire around his body exploded violently, creating a heat wave that forced practitioners in the front rows to retreat. "Yang Jin fell because he was too kind-hearted, but I... I will ensure your ashes become fertilizer for these mountains!"

  Zhi Xuan stepped into the center of the white jade arena. Each footfall was an insult to the majesty of the great clans present. He stopped exactly ten fathoms in front of Yang Shuo, letting the mountain wind play with his dark purple hair. Yi’er’s red ribbon fluttered gently, appearing as the only living entity amidst the aura of death radiated by the Heavenly Sword.

  "Treachery?" Zhi Xuan repeated the word flatly, as if tasting a bland joke. "Six people surrounding one wounded man, and you call his death an act of treachery? The cultivation of your great clan has apparently numbed your logic, not just your conscience."

  "Enough talk!" Yang Shuo stomped his foot, flaming cracks spreading across the jade floor. "Today is the day the Dao Protector is decided. If you have come to challenge death, then step forward! Let the whole world see how the fire of the Eternal Sun obliterates your foul shadow!"

  In the high pavilion, the sky-blue silk curtain was jerked aside. Ye Xishui stood up, her fingers gripping the balcony railing until the marble cracked. Her sorrowful eyes now radiated an indescribable spark.

  "He... he returned," Ye Xishui whispered, her tears held back, but this time not because of sadness.

  Zhi Xuan did not look up toward the pavilion, but his senses, sharpened beyond human limits, felt her presence. The faint scent of morning dew carried by the wind washed the remnants of the Nine Solitudes' chill from his soul.

  "Elder Qing He," Zhi Xuan’s voice echoed, calm yet full of conviction. "This Zhi has completed his exile. According to the laws of the Sacred Pavilion, does not anyone standing upon this altar have the right to challenge the position of Dao Protector?"

  Elder Qing He nodded slowly, her gaze fixed with sternness. "Correct. This arena does not look at origins; it only acknowledges strength and the will of the Heavens."

  "Then," Zhi Xuan slowly pulled the Heavenly Sword from his back. He drove it into the altar below him with a soft thud, an act of surrender. "I will not use this Heavenly Sword."

  A massive shockwave hit the entire Heavenly Cloud Peak, more devastating than when Zhi Xuan first emerged from the darkness. That statement was like a lightning bolt in the middle of a clear day, scorching the thoughts of every practitioner present.

  "What did he say?! Not using the Heavenly Sword?!" An Elder from an ordinary sect jumped from his chair, his eyes bulging until the red veins were clearly visible. "Has the Devil gone completely mad in prison? Without that cursed blade, he is just a practitioner with newly recovered meridians!"

  "Arrogance! Absolute arrogance that transcends the heavens!" another practitioner replied with a forced mocking laugh to hide his unease. "Who does he think he is? Facing Yang Shuo, who has a late-stage Soul Transformation cultivation base and the fire of the Eternal Sun, with his bare hands? This is no longer a challenge; this is a blatant act of suicide!"

  Among the information-gathering clans, brushes danced wildly over parchment, recording every detail of this nonsensical event. "Zhi Xuan, the Southern Devil, lays down his weapon before a bloodthirsty opponent... Is this the ultimate insult, or has he lost his mind?"

  Yang Shuo, standing in the middle of the arena, was frozen for several seconds. His flushed face now twitched with uncontrollable rage. He felt as though he had just been spat on in front of thousands of eyes.

  "You... you want to face me without that sword?!" Yang Shuo snarled, his voice trembling with boiling anger. "Zhi Xuan! You underestimate my Solar fire as if it were a small candle by the roadside? You think by laying down that sword, I will feel pity and spare you?!"

  "Pity?" Zhi Xuan countered with a thin smirk. He raised his hand and opened his palm. "How amusing. You think I only possess a sharp blade?"

  From his palm, a low hum spread to his surroundings as the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron appeared. The ancient bronze divine cauldron radiated dense Xuan-Huang energy, rotating in Zhi Xuan’s hand with a low thrum that seemed to press the earth down from the heavens. The Divine Cauldron glowed with a different aura, like the Laws of the Four Seasons embedded deep within its forge.

  The tremor produced by the emergence of the Divine Cauldron was far more primal and suffocating than the sharp aura of the Heavenly Sword. If the Heavenly Sword was a symbol of cutting destruction, then the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron spinning in Zhi Xuan’s palm was a symbol of the unbearable weight of the universe.

  "The Cauldron... the Divine Cauldron?!" An Elder’s voice shrieked high, breaking the harrowing silence. He fell to his knees, his blurring eyes staring at the ancient bronze glow with intense worship. "Xuan-Huang aura... that is the breath of the beginning of creation! How is it possible... such pure yellow energy!"

  "Look at the patterns!" another practitioner shouted, pointing with a trembling hand. "The Laws of the Four Seasons... the blooming spring, the scorching heat, the withering autumn, and the freezing cold... everything rotates around that cauldron! He didn't lay down his sword out of arrogance, but because he possesses something far more terrifying!"