Lu Mao's voice barely rose above the chaos, yet Marco caught it instantly.
"Marco," he murmured, low and precise.
The response was immediate.
Qi surged through Marco's body like a rising tide, flowing down his arms and into the blade gripped in his hand. The sword began to hum, a deep, resonant vibration that cut through the lingering noise of battle. Light gathered along its edge, sharp and focused, until the weapon seemed to glow with a cold, blue-white brilliance.
Marco stepped forward and drew in a breath, his chest expanding as his stance rooted into the ground.
"Mountain Cleaver!"
His shout tore through the courtyard.
The moment the words left his mouth, he swung.
The blade carved through the smoke, and the world seemed to split along its path. A crescent of condensed qi burst outward, dense and gleaming, tearing through the thick blue haze like fabric being ripped apart. The force of it screamed through the air, aimed directly at the senior disciple.
For the first time—
she drew her sword.
The motion was smooth, almost effortless, yet it carried a weight that silenced everything around it. Her silver blade flashed into existence, meeting Marco's attack head-on.
The collision shook the courtyard.
A sharp, explosive crash rang out as the two forces collided. Qi erupted outward in shimmering waves, scattering dust, smoke, and fragments of stone in every direction. The ground trembled under the impact, and the air itself seemed to ripple.
Lu Mao raised an arm to shield his eyes, his cloak snapping violently behind him as the shockwave rolled past. The wind burned against his skin, hot and sharp, forcing him to narrow his gaze.
When the smoke began to thin, she stood there—
unharmed.
Not a single mark touched her robes. Not a single step had been forced back.
But something had changed.
Her eyes, once distant and calm, had sharpened. Her expression had turned cold, focused, no longer amused by the chaos around her.
And beside her, another steel sphere hovered quietly, its faint glow pulsing like a heartbeat.
Then—
BOOM.
Another explosion of smoke burst outward, engulfing her once more. The courtyard vanished again into a shifting sea of blue haze.
This time, the disturbance did not go unnoticed.
From the edges of the battlefield, another group of cultivators rushed in, drawn by the noise and the promise of opportunity. Through the smoke, they saw only confusion—flashes of movement, scattered fighters, and the faint red glimmer of an unclaimed orb.
"There! An orb's still unclaimed!" one of them shouted.
That was all it took.
They surged forward like starving wolves, eyes locked on the prize.
The courtyard descended into chaos.
What had once been a structured battle dissolved into a storm of movement and clashing intent. Qi flared from every direction, blades flashed through the haze, and the ground trembled under the weight of overlapping attacks.
At the edge of it all, Bao Fu moved.
He darted from side to side, his steps uneven, his breathing loud and exaggerated. To anyone watching, he looked like a man barely holding himself together—lost, panicked, completely out of his depth.
But Lu Mao saw the truth.
Behind his back, Bao Fu's fingers flexed, steady despite the act. A final rune sphere rested in his palm, glowing faintly blue as qi poured into it. The veins along his wrist stood out, pulsing under the strain as he forced every last bit of energy into the construct.
"This one…" Bao Fu muttered through gritted teeth, "…is the last I can manage!"
The sphere responded with a low hum, its resonance vibrating faintly through the air, almost in sync with the pounding footsteps of the approaching cultivators.
Yan Mei noticed it immediately.
Her eyes narrowed, her posture shifting ever so slightly. The air around her changed, tension tightening like a drawn bowstring.
The senior disciple noticed too.
For the first time, a flicker of irritation touched her otherwise composed expression.
Her qi surged.
The entire courtyard reacted.
A wave of silver energy burst outward from her body, sweeping through the smoke like a tidal force. The dense haze was torn apart instantly, scattered into nothing as the courtyard was revealed in stark clarity once more.
And in that clarity—
she moved.
Fast enough that even Lu Mao's eyes struggled to follow.
Her sword sang as it cut through the air, a sharp, pure tone that carried lethal intent. The bald brute barely managed to raise his arms before her strike landed. Blood sprayed as his shoulder split open, the force of the blow sending him crashing backward.
His ally roared and swung his axe in desperation, but she was already gone from that position. She pivoted smoothly, her blade flashing once more as it carved cleanly through his leg. He collapsed before the scream could fully leave his throat.
The last of them, the swordsman, reacted just in time to parry a single strike.
It didn't matter.
Her blade moved again, faster this time, and his weapon shattered on contact, fragments scattering like broken glass.
Three men fell in the span of a breath.
The newly arrived cultivators hesitated, their momentum faltering as the reality of her strength struck them.
Lu Mao didn't.
"Marco. Chen Yuan," he said, his voice calm and precise.
They moved without hesitation.
Marco surged forward again, qi flaring around him as white arcs traced along his blade. Chen Yuan followed closely, his sword gleaming with a pale blue light, his movements sharp and controlled.
They attacked together.
Their strikes overlapped perfectly, forming a seamless rhythm that pressed in from both sides. One blow flowed into the next, forcing the senior disciple to respond continuously, her silver blade flashing as it parried and deflected each incoming strike.
For the first time—
she gave ground.
One step.
Then another.
It was small. Almost insignificant.
But Lu Mao saw it.
A gap.
The new team reacted instantly, rushing in from both flanks with shouts of triumph, reaching for the orb hovering near her shoulder.
For a brief moment, chaos took over completely.
But it didn't last.
Her qi surged again, stronger than before.
A silver flame erupted around her, roaring outward as she spun. Her blade traced a perfect circle, forming a radiant halo that exploded in all directions.
The shockwave hit everything.
Lu Mao dropped low, bracing himself as the force screamed over him. Stone cracked beneath him, dust blasting into the air as bodies were thrown back with pained cries.
When the dust settled—
she stood alone.
Untouched.
Her white robes remained pristine, her sword gleaming faintly in her hand. Only a slight movement of her hair hinted that anything had happened at all.
She looked less like a cultivator now—
and more like something untouchable.
A goddess standing in the middle of ruin.
Then—
a sound.
Soft.
Faint.
A metallic chime behind her.
Her pupils contracted instantly. Instinct took over.
She turned and struck without hesitation, her blade slicing cleanly through the air toward the source.
What met her was unexpected.
A streak of light surged forward—Yan Mei's blade-whip, snapping through the air with explosive speed. It didn't strike once, but many times in rapid succession, each lash cracking like thunder as it rained down upon her.
Steel met steel.
Sparks flared as the whip and sword collided again and again, each impact sending sharp bursts of light into the air.
Lu Mao's heartbeat slowed.
Everything narrowed.
That was the moment.
From the edges of her perception, two more figures closed in—Marco from the right, Chen Yuan from the left. Their weapons crossed in a precise V-shape, slashing toward her from opposite angles.
She responded instantly, her sword spinning to block both strikes.
But to do that—
she had to turn.
Just slightly.
And that was enough.
BOOM.
Bao Fu's final sphere detonated.
The world vanished into white.
The senior disciple reacted immediately, leaping backward out of the smoke with speed that blurred her outline.
Fast.
Incredibly fast.
But not fast enough.
Something moved within the cloud.
Not loud. Not forceful.
Just… present.
A faint ripple, so subtle that even her sharpened senses barely caught it.
She struck.
Her blade cut cleanly through the shape.
But there was no resistance.
The figure split apart, dissolving into mist.
A phantom.
Her eyes widened, just for an instant.
And in that same instant—
she felt it.
A faint disturbance near her waist.
A whisper of movement.
A ripple in qi.
She turned—
too late.
The orb was gone.
A few paces away, Lu Mao reappeared, dropping into a half-kneel as the last traces of his technique faded from around him.
In his hand—
the red orb pulsed softly.
Warm.
Alive.
His breath came fast, his chest rising and falling as sweat clung to his skin. But his eyes were steady, gleaming with quiet satisfaction.
His father's voice echoed faintly in his mind.
A thief's true blade isn't steel. It's timing.
He had used everything.
The Shadow Veil to erase himself within the chaos.
The Phantom Double to draw her strike.
And instinct—to slip through the smallest opening.
He rose smoothly, tightening his grip on the orb.
"We have it!" he called out.
For a split second, his team froze.
Then everything exploded into motion.
"Run!" Lu Mao barked.
Yan Mei snapped her whip against the ground, forcing space open. Chen Yuan grabbed Bao Fu and pulled him along, while Marco surged ahead, clearing their path.
Behind them, shouts erupted.
The remaining cultivators realized what had happened.
The orb was gone.
Lu Mao didn't look back.
His boots struck the stone hard as they sprinted through the ruined courtyard, weaving past fallen bodies and shattered ground.
Behind them—
the silver aura dimmed.
The senior disciple lowered her sword slowly, her gaze following their retreating figures through the fading haze.
Her lips curved slightly.
"Clever," she murmured softly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by no one at all.