The Black Marsh Valley no longer felt like a labyrinth.
What had once been a suffocating expanse of rot and misdirection now unfolded with a strange, reluctant clarity. In Li Wei's hands, the crude map taken from the bandits became more than scratched lines and guesswork—it became a guide through decay, a thread pulled through the valley's tangled veins.
He moved with purpose.
Each step was measured. Each path chosen, not explored. The marsh no longer swallowed his direction—it revealed it.
The fog drifted low across the ground, thick and sluggish, clinging to his boots as he advanced. The stench of rot and stagnant water pressed against his senses, but it did not slow him. It could not.
At a narrow ridge where the land dipped sharply into darker terrain, Li Wei stopped.
The map unfolded once more.
His eyes settled on a mark—crude, deliberate.
An X.
Jagged. Uneven. Drawn in something darker than ink.
Dried blood.
He stared at it for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze quiet but focused.
"…So that's where you are."
The map was folded away without hesitation.
His path was decided.
As he moved again, the marsh seeming to part before him, a thought surfaced—calm, detached.
Too slow.
Not by ordinary standards. At the peak of Qi Condensation, his speed already surpassed most of his peers. But that comparison meant nothing.
He was no longer measuring himself against them.
Foundation Establishment cultivators existed on a different level—faster, sharper, more refined.
Speed was no longer an advantage.
It was a necessity.
A movement technique is required.
The conclusion settled without resistance.
But not now.
Now… there was something waiting.
---
The cave appeared like a scar carved into the valley's flesh.
A jagged opening in the rock face, shallow yet wide, exhaling a foul, heated breath that carried with it a scent so thick it seemed to coat the lungs.
Iron.
Decay.
Something sweet… and wrong.
Li Wei stepped inside.
Light dimmed instantly, swallowed by shadow.
The air grew heavier.
The walls—
They were not bare.
They were lined.
Skulls.
Dozens upon dozens of them, embedded into the stone as though part of some grotesque architecture. Hollow eye sockets stared outward, empty yet accusing. Some were cracked open, others still bore fragments of decayed flesh stubbornly clinging to bone.
It was not disorderly arranged.
It was arrangement properly.
Deliberate.
At the center of the cave stood a cauldron.
Massive. Blackened. Breathing heat like a living furnace.
Within it, thick, dark liquid churned violently—bubbling, hissing, releasing waves of heat that distorted the air above it.
Blood.
Human blood.
It boiled as though it possessed a will of its own.
Standing before it—
A man.
Xue Yan.
His figure was lean, almost gaunt, but there was nothing weak about him. His body carried a coiled tension, like a blade waiting to be drawn. His skin was pale to the point of sickness, stretched tight over sharp features. His eyes burned with a feverish, unnatural light.
In his hand rested a saber.
Curved. Narrow. Its edge faintly glinting.
But it was not the blade itself that drew attention.
It was the aura.
A dark sheen clung to it—subtle, pulsing, as though the weapon itself hungered for what lay within the cauldron.
Xue Yan raised it slowly.
The blood responded.
It trembled.
He was about to begin.
Then—
Footsteps.
Soft.
Measured.
Unhurried.
The moment broke.
Xue Yan stilled.
His head turned.
Not sharply. Not in alarm.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And his eyes found the source.
A young man stood at the cave's entrance, framed by dim light and shadow. His azure robes were untouched by the valley's filth. His posture relaxed, almost casual.
Li Wei.
He stepped forward, unhurried, until the shadows swallowed him completely.
No hesitation.
No reaction.
His gaze moved—not with disgust, not with shock—but with quiet clarity. It swept over the skulls, the cauldron, the boiling blood.
Then settled—
On Xue Yan.
Silence descended.
Heavy.
Absolute.
Even the bubbling of the cauldron seemed to dull beneath it.
Xue Yan's lips curved slowly, stretching into a smile that showed too much.
"…Interesting."
His voice scraped through the air, dry and hollow.
"You walked in on your own."
His gaze sharpened, sweeping over Li Wei with unsettling precision.
Qi Condensation.
Yet…
Not quite.
There was something beneath it. Something that didn't align. Something that made instinct whisper caution.
Li Wei did not respond immediately.
His eyes shifted, resting briefly on the cauldron, then the saber.
Understanding came without effort.
"Blood refinement."
Flat.
Certain.
Not a question.
Xue Yan's smile widened, a flicker of approval passing through his expression.
"Sharp," he murmured. "Most would be vomiting by now."
Li Wei remained still.
Unmoved.
The silence that followed was no longer empty.
It was filled—with intent.
Xue Yan's grip on the saber tightened slightly.
"…You're not here by accident."
"No."
One word.
Final.
The air shifted.
Xue Yan let out a low chuckle, devoid of warmth.
"Good."
His shoulders rolled slowly, tension gathering beneath his skin.
"It's been a while since something… interesting walked into my cave."
From his body, a faint aura began to seep—thin strands of crimson energy coiling outward, drawn toward the saber like veins seeking a heart.
The skulls lining the walls trembled faintly.
Li Wei stepped forward.
Once.
The ground beneath his foot cracked softly.
His Chaos Qi remained contained.
Quiet.
But present.
"I'm here for your head."
No anger.
No arrogance.
Just fact.
For a fraction of a moment—
Xue Yan's smile faltered.
Then returned.
Wider.
Sharper.
"Then come."
The words slipped into the silence like a blade.
The cave seemed to contract.
The air thickened.
And in that suffocating stillness—
The killing intent finally rose.