"SQUELCH!"
A sharp, cold sound rang out amidst the eerie valley. It was not the clashing of metal, nor the snapping of bones. It was the sound of a blade slicing into flesh.
Time seemed to stop.
Ly Tin, who was preparing to charge forward in a fight to the death, was stunned. The eyes of the general who had spent his life on the battlefield widened, filled with bewilderment and utter disbelief.
The Strategist of the Black Dragon Stronghold, the one who always maintained an unhurried and conceited expression, felt the hypocritical smile freeze on his lips. The paper folding fan in his hand stopped waving, falling to the ground without him even realizing.
They had just witnessed the most insane, the most illogical scene they had ever experienced in their lives.
Tran Kien, that youth, the prey they had trapped, did not attack the enemy, nor did he try to break the illusionary array. He had used his own saber to deliver a fatal thrust into his own chest. The dull black blade pierced through his indigo robes, burying deep into his flesh. Fresh blood immediately gushed out, dyeing a patch of his robes red.
"Are... are you insane?" Ly Tin stammered, his voice cracking.
The Strategist was also dumbfounded. He had calculated everything. He had predicted that the opponent would be enraged, would attack, would try to break the array. He had prepared dozens of countermeasures. But he never, ever could have imagined that a chess piece would overturn the entire chessboard by destroying itself.
"Have you ever considered," Tran Kien's voice echoed, faint but incomparably clear, "what would happen if there was a chess piece that didn't follow logic, that didn't abide by any of the rules on your chessboard?"
He looked at the Strategist, the corners of his blood-filled mouth curling into a cold smile—the smile of a gambler who had staked everything on a life-and-death bet.
"Your 'Three Lives Dream' illusionary array," he said, his breathing somewhat ragged, "is linked to their auras. Any external attack will cause their souls to shatter. You are right. But you forgot one thing."
"This illusionary array is also linked to the awake people outside!" he roared. "It needs a stable environment to maintain the dream! So what if I, one of the awake ones, personally create the most violent fluctuation of aura, a fluctuation of death?!"
This was Tran Kien's chess move. A mad move, absent from any military tome. He didn't break the array from the outside. He broke it from the inside, by using his own life force as the epicenter, creating a seismic shockwave within his soul, a scream of fresh blood to awaken those in deep slumber.
The moment he stabbed himself, excruciating pain and the chaotic aura of death radiated outward. The 'Three Lives Dream' illusionary array enveloping Uncle Sword's group, originally as calm as a lake, suddenly shook violently as if struck by a tempest.
Within the illusionary array.
Uncle Sword was standing amidst a resplendent peach blossom garden. Before him was a woman dressed in white, her beauty peerless, smiling at him. It was his wife who had passed away many years ago, the greatest regret of his life. He was just about to step forward when suddenly, the entire peach blossom garden shook violently. The azure sky cracked like shattered glass. The face of his gentle wife vanished, replaced by the youthful yet resolute face of Tran Kien, covered entirely in blood.
"WAKE UP!!!"
A roar, not of sound, but of sheer will, echoed within Uncle Sword's mind.
In another illusion, Trinh Cong and Lam Vy were in a magnificent palace, reuniting with Lam Vy's parents. But then the ground also shook, and the palace collapsed.
"Sword Intent!"
Outside, Uncle Sword, who had been standing motionless, suddenly snapped his eyes open. Within his profound eyes, there was no longer any delusion, but an incomparably sharp Sword Intent, and a towering, heaven-shaking fury.
"YOU DARE USE HEART DEMONS TO HARM OTHERS?! YOU ARE COURTING DEATH!"
He let out an earth-shattering roar. He didn't even need his sword. He merely raised two fingers, pointing forward.
"Sword Intent - Shatter Illusions!"
An invisible yet supremely condensed thread of Sword Intent, not attacking anyone, pierced directly into an ordinary rock by the edge of the lake.
"CRACK!"
That rock, which was the formation core of the 'Three Lives Dream', shattered into fine powder.
The illusionary array enveloping Trinh Cong and Lam Vy instantly dissipated. The two jolted awake, cold sweat drenching their backs.
"What... what just happened?" Lam Vy asked in bewilderment.
But no one had the time to explain it to her.
"Run!" Uncle Sword bellowed.
He didn't attack the Strategist, but grabbed Trinh Cong with one hand and Lam Vy with the other. His figure transformed into a blur, charging straight toward Ly Tin.
Ly Tin immediately understood. Not lusting for battle, he hastily provided cover for Uncle Sword.
Only Tran Kien remained.
After breaking the deadlock, he was completely exhausted. The blade was still lodged in his chest, blood flowing endlessly. He staggered, about to collapse.
"Still trying to run?" The Strategist, after his initial shock, had fully regained his senses. He was enraged to the extreme. His perfect game of chess had been shattered by an unimaginable move. He could not let his prey escape.
He waved his paper folding fan, preparing to unleash a fatal strike towards Tran Kien.
But exactly at that moment, a figure appeared before him.
It was Uncle Sword.
He had handed Trinh Cong and Lam Vy over to Ly Tin, then returned. With one man and one sword, he stood blocking Tran Kien.
"Your opponent," Uncle Sword said, his voice as cold as the icy depths of Hell, "is me."
The Strategist froze. He looked into Uncle Sword's eyes. Those eyes were no longer calm. They were a roaring tempest of Sword Intent. The gentle hermit, after witnessing his young friend risk his life to save them, was truly infuriated.
The Strategist subconsciously took a step back. He knew just how terrifying an enraged Sword Cultivator could be.
"Retreat!" he gritted his teeth, ordering his remaining subordinates. He didn't dare to fight anymore. He knew that if they truly fought to the death, even if he managed to kill the opponent, the price he would have to pay was definitely something he could not bear.
He and his subordinates quickly vanished into the caves.
Uncle Sword did not pursue. He hurriedly turned around, catching Tran Kien who was on the verge of collapsing.
"Kid! How are you?!"
He hastily pulled the saber out of Tran Kien's chest, tapped several major acupoints to stop the bleeding, and then stuffed an emerald-green medicinal pill, radiating a dense life force, into the youth's mouth.
Tran Kien felt a warm stream of energy spread throughout his body. The horrifying wound on his chest began to tingle. He looked at Uncle Sword, the corners of his blood-filled mouth curling into a faint, weak smile.
"This game of chess... I think... we won..."
Saying this, he no longer had the strength to hold on. His vision went dark, and he fainted in Uncle Sword's arms.