The battlefield was a ruin of light and shadow. Craters bled molten Qi. Smoke rose from torn stone.
A single beam of focused energy—Pure Immortal Flame—lanced from her fingertip.
It struck Wu Ming through the head.
He didn't scream.
He didn't speak.
His body, armor, Qi—all of it turned to ash in a heartbeat, crumbling where he knelt.
The ash scattered into the wind.
Kai's mouth opened in stunned horror.
The Paragon did not blink. "He was weak."
Her voice was not cruel.
It was simply… final.
Kai stared, stunned, as the ash of Wu Ming was swept into the wind. "He died begging for you."
The Paragon finally looked at Kai.
There was no smile.
No scorn.
Only disappointment.
"He died failing me," she said.
Kai's fists clenched. "You used him."
"I shaped him," she said. "He was a knife. Knives grow dull. And dull blades are dangerous to everyone."
The ground beneath Kai and Yin Shuang's feet still trembled from the aftermath of their battle with the Blood Demon, whose ashes had not yet settled into silence before the next storm arrived.
The Immortal Paragon stood before them now, resplendent, untouchable.
Her robes fluttered without wind, woven of flowing moonlight and veiled flame. A crown of silver light shimmered faintly above her brow, pulsing in rhythm with her breath. Her eyes—cold, infinite—were unreadable pools that held no warmth, only the gravity of ancient judgment.
She had just erased Wu Ming with the flick of a finger.
Now she turned to Kai and Yin.
"Are you prepared," she asked, voice soft as snow, "to face what comes next?"
Yin's sword pulsed in her hand.
Her gaze had drifted… upward.
Her breath hitched.
Her fingers trembled.
Kai, standing beside her, turned sharply when he sensed the sudden hesitation.
Yin's eyes widened—not with fear, but with recognition.
"…Mother?"
The word was fragile.
Spoken in disbelief. In longing.
The Immortal Paragon smiled.
But something had changed.
Her posture softened. The chill in her voice melted into warmth.
"My dear," she whispered, stepping forward with outstretched arms. "I've missed you."
Kai's face went pale.
He grabbed Yin's wrist. "Yin. Don't listen—"
But her arm twitched.
Her stance faltered.
And her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"Mother…?"
The Paragon's voice was smooth, honeyed. Almost kind.
"I never wanted to leave you," she said. "I watched you grow. I saw how strong you became. You followed my path so well, daughter. You inherited the Peerless Sword, didn't you? You made me so proud."
Yin dropped her guard completely.
Her blade lowered.
Kai moved fast—but not fast enough.
A wave of spiritual pressure burst from the Paragon—not as an attack, but a hypnotic wave. It moved like a breeze across a field of reeds, barely perceptible. But Kai felt the change in the air.
Illusion. Soul-based.
Soul-binding trance.
He looked to Yin, eyes wide.
She wasn't seeing the Paragon anymore.
She was seeing Jiang Xue.
Her mother.
Alive. Smiling. Arms open.
A perfect lie.
"No," Kai whispered. "Yin—she's not your mother."
Too late.
Yin stepped forward.
Her aura surged.
And then she attacked Kai.
The Peerless Sword screamed through the air, its blade now a fully manifested arc of moonlight and resolve. Kai ducked under the first slash. The second came a breath later—clean, calculated. No hesitation.
He blocked it with a spiral of Chaos-Qi hardened into a defensive veil. Sparks tore from the clash. The recoil shattered the stone beneath his feet.
"Yin!" he cried. "It's me! Wake up!"
But she didn't stop.
In her eyes, Kai saw no hatred. Only confusion.
"Why are you stopping me?" she cried. "She's here. My mother's here! I have to reach her!"
Another blow. This time Kai caught her blade between two plates of spinning energy, forcing her back.
"This isn't real!" he shouted. "She's not Jiang Xue—she's pretending to be!"
Yin's breathing grew shallow. Her eyes flickered—but the trance held.
"You're lying!" she said. "She… she said she never left me. She said she was always watching—how could she lie? She wouldn't lie!"
Kai's heart twisted.
He recognized the pain in her voice.
The ache of a child who never got to say goodbye.
He had known it himself. With Han Long. With the countless friends lost through this war.
The Paragon's illusion wasn't just visual—it was emotional. A manipulation of grief and memory.
Kai knew what to do.
Not with force.
But with truth.
He lowered his arms.
He stood defenseless before Yin's next strike.
"I'm not your enemy, Yin."
Her blade hovered inches from his throat.
"Your mother forged the Peerless Sword for you," Kai said. "She wanted you to be free of her mistakes. She wanted you to walk a path that was yours, not hers."
Yin's grip shook.
"But she's right there," she said, voice breaking. "She's… she's right there…"
"She's not!"
Kai raised a single hand.
And let loose the Eclipse Illusion Dispelling Technique Chaos, a fused technique designed not to destroy matter, but to dispel illusions.
The air trembled.
The light around the Immortal Paragon cracked.
And then it shattered.
Her glow fell away like a silk curtain in flame. The serene expression dissolved. The moonlight robes faded.
In her place stood a plain woman.
No shimmering hair.
No divine grace.
Her face was narrow. Her skin bore no ageless radiance. Her body was slight, almost fragile. Her hair was dull brown, tied in a simple knot.
She looked utterly ordinary, nothing like Jiang Xue.
And in that moment, the trance collapsed.
Yin's eyes widened.
She dropped her sword.
And stumbled back like she had been struck.
"No," she whispered. "No…"
Kai stepped forward, catching her before she fell.
"It's alright," he said softly. "You're back."
Yin's eyes brimmed with fury—and shame.
"She used her face," she murmured. "She used my mother's face…"
Kai turned, eyes burning.
"Yin."
She looked up.
"She's the one," he said. "The one who fed lies to Elder Pu. The one who instigated Shen Zhenhai to administer the poison. She's the reason Jiang Xue died."
Yin's breath caught.
"She…" Her fingers clenched. "She was my mother's handmaiden. I have my mother's memories"
Kai nodded.
Yin turned her gaze to the Paragon.
The woman—now stripped of illusion—did not flinch.
She looked back at them without shame.
"So," she said, voice as sharp as ever, "the veil falls. And now what? Will you hate me more because I lack beauty? Because I wear no divine glow?"
"You used her," Yin said, stepping forward. "You poisoned her memory. You used her face!"
"Since she is dead," the Paragon replied, "she has no need of a face right?"
Kai's voice was quiet.
"You killed your master, stole her techniques, orchestrated a massacre, and rose by stepping on the corpses of people who trusted you."
The Paragon's smile returned.
"It's for the greater good."
"No," Yin said. "You became everything she stood against."
The Peerless Sword rose again—not with rage, but with purpose.
"We end this now."