As Shi Meng, carrying Mo Chen and dragging Lin Yi, burst into the illusory mist barrier Su Wanqing had set up, the clamor of their pursuers abruptly weakened behind them, as if separated by a thick curtain of water. However, before the three could catch their breath, the mist began to churn violently. A cold voice pierced through the barrier, sounding clearly: "Weaver of Dreams, would you make an enemy of my 'Law Enforcement Hall' for these few rebels?" He ignored the pain, propped himself up on the ground, and turned his head to look at the person in Shi Meng's arms. Mo Chen's face was ashen, as if covered in frost; his chest barely rose and fell. Shi Meng's arm trembled, blood flowing down his arm and dripping onto Mo Chen's lapel, spreading into dark crimson stains. Shi Meng gritted his teeth and carefully laid Mo Chen on the ground. Lin Yi crawled over on his knees, his fingers hovering above Mo Chen's nostrils—the breath was so faint it was almost imperceptible. He lifted Mo Chen's eyelids; the pupils were unfocused, the faint spiritual light deep within rapidly dimming. Lin Yi's breathing grew heavy. He forced himself to concentrate his last shreds of focus, sensing his surroundings. The illusory mist carried a faint scent, like old books and cold sandalwood, barely holding back the oppressive force from outside. But the mist itself trembled, its edges rippling with fine disturbances, as if it could be torn apart at any moment. Su Wanqing stood three *zhang* away, her hands forming a seal, the pale blue illusory light flowing at her fingertips flickering unsteadily. "It won't hold for long," she said without looking at Lin Yi, her voice low and laced with weary panting. "Xiao Han's 'Order Shackles' are eroding the barrier... half an incense stick's time at most." His master's skin felt cold to the touch, like holding a piece of jade losing its warmth. He remembered how steady these hands once were—every stroke while carving characters precise as a ruler and compass, the spiritual threads guided by his fingertips during array deployment finer than a strand of hair. Now, these hands hung limp, the knuckles tinged a deathly gray. "Weaver of Dreams..." Lin Yi spoke, his throat feeling as if scraped by sandpaper. "My master... can he be saved?" "The soul fire is about to extinguish," she finally said, each word seeming forced through clenched teeth. "I cannot stop it." Shi Meng jerked his head up. "What do you mean you can't stop it?! Don't you know illusion arts? Create a fake one—" "A fake cannot deceive the mark of the Heavenly Dao," Su Wanqing cut him off, the blue light at her fingertips dimming further. "Mo Chen forcibly broke the 'Order Shackles' by burning his origin essence. His soul has already... cracked. Now, with every breath he takes, the soul fire weakens." She paused, then added, "The 'Law Enforcement Hall' Xiao Han spoke of... are the executioners who uphold the 'Contract'." "The Contract," he repeated the word, his voice low as if talking to himself. "What contract?" *Thump. Thump. Thump.* Steady and unhurried, like someone knocking on an invisible drum with their knuckles. With each knock, the illusory mist dented inward by an inch, and Su Wanqing's face grew paler. She bit her lower lip, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. "In ancient times... a transaction was reached between powerful humans and the 'Heavenly Dao'," she spoke quickly, as if racing against time. "Trading a portion of freedom and the periodic cleansing of 'Fate-Defiers' in exchange for the survival of the race and the power system. The Lin Family... was purged for attempting to break a key clause of the Contract." His fingernails dug into his palms, the sting helping him stay conscious. "Collateral?" he asked, his voice trembling. "We... are all collateral?" "More than that," Su Wanqing's breathing grew ragged. "The Contract stipulates that each era must have a certain number of 'Fate-Defiers' marked, observed, and finally... cleansed. This is the price of maintaining balance. Your father knew. The Lin Family elders knew. They chose the safest path—sacrificing one genius to preserve the entire clan." "Bullshit Contract!" His eyes were bloodshot. "On what grounds—" "On the grounds that every moment we live, we use the power it grants," Su Wanqing's voice suddenly turned cold. "The spiritual energy we cultivate, the opportunities for breakthroughs, the life-extending The pale blue illusory light seemed gripped by an invisible hand, violently contracting inward. Su Wanqing grunted, the blood at the corner of her mouth flowing more fiercely. At the edge of the barrier, a crack tore open, revealing the dim daylight outside. Xiao Han stood outside the crack, his left hand cradling a faintly pulsing orb of light. That light held a familiar aura belonging to Mo Chen, warm to the point of being blinding. With each pulse, it dimmed further, like a candle guttering in the wind. "Finished talking?" Xiao Han's voice remained calm, even carrying a hint of concern. "Weaver of Dreams, you're straining yourself. Why bother?" Her hands sped up their seal-forming, trying to mend the crack. But more fissures spread from where Xiao Han's fingertip touched, like ice struck by a heavy hammer. The illusory mist emitted the subtle, overwhelmed sound of shattering, like porcelain cracking under low temperatures. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly steady. Xiao Han slightly rotated the jade thumb ring on his left thumb. "Simple," he said. "You voluntarily hand over the core imprint of the 'First Theft's Authority,' I return this wisp of soul fire, and send Mo Chen into reincarnation. Although his Dao foundation is destroyed, at least his soul will be intact. Perhaps he'll have another chance in his next life." He paused, then added, "Otherwise, the soul fire is extinguished, and Mo Chen's form and spirit perish. Oathbreaker, choose." That hand was as steady as iron pincers, clamped on Shi Meng's bloody arm. Shi Meng struggled once, but didn't break free. He twisted his head to glare at Lin Yi, only to meet a pair of bottomless eyes. There was only a piece of cold, operating logic. "Ten breaths," Xiao Han began counting, his tone as leisurely as reciting poetry. "Ten." Master's breathing had weakened to almost imperceptible. With each pulse of the soul fire, his life ebbed away further. Time was like a blunt knife, slowly grinding against bone. Another gash split open in Su Wanqing's illusion barrier. A cold wind rushed in, carrying the taste of wilderness dust and blood. Her fingertips trembled, the blue light flickering, like a firefly about to extinguish at any moment. Shi Meng's arm tensed under Lin Yi's palm, muscles bulging. Blood welled from the wound, warm and sticky, flowing down Lin Yi's fingers. This burly man was shaking—not from fear, but a physiological reaction of extreme fury. The indistinct nursery rhyme his mother used to hum. The bone-chilling cold of the back mountain's frigid pool. The first character Mo Chen carved on a stone slab. Those quiet eyes Su Wanqing hid beneath her servant's garb. The charred beast meat Shi Meng once handed him. And his father's resolute back as he turned away. Xiao Han stopped counting, raising a brow slightly, awaiting a response. Lin Yi slowly stood up. A cold, numb itch came from the seal on his left arm, as if countless tiny insects writhed beneath his skin. He ignored the sensation, his gaze locking onto the soul fire in Xiao Han's hand. "How do I know it's real?" he asked. "What if you're just crushing an illusion?" "You can gamble," Xiao Han said. "But the price of losing, you cannot afford." The moment the words fell, a subtle, almost imperceptible ripple pierced Lin Yi's mind. Yun Zhi's voice sounded directly in his consciousness, hoarse and magnetic, speaking with astonishing speed. "Trust me once. I can snatch a wisp of soul fragment and stuff it into 'Soul-Guiding Amber.' But after that, his soul, like yours, will become a nail in the eye of the Heavenly Dao. You must also help me with a 'small matter.'" He forced his face to reveal nothing, his gaze still fixed on Xiao Han. But his heart hammered wildly in his chest, the roar of blood rushing through his eardrums nearly drowning out everything else. "Five," Xiao Han continued counting, as if unaware of the secret exchange. He was calculating—Yun Zhi's motives were unclear, the risk extremely high. What was Soul-Guiding Amber? What was this 'small matter'? But at least, on this path, Mo Chen would retain a remnant of his soul. Not complete annihilation. Su Wanqing suddenly spoke, her voice weak but clear. "Lin Yi... don't believe her. The Weaver of Dreams sells dreams, and also sells souls. Her price... you cannot afford." "Little Wanqing, you're still so naive," Yun Zhi said. "Which is more worthwhile? A price you cannot afford, or a death you can?" His gaze rapidly shifted between the soul fire "Stop!" he roared hoarsely, each word seeming to squeeze out from a torn throat. "I'll seal it! As a pact, in exchange for my master's soul fire!" He stopped counting, his gaze falling on Lin Yi's left arm. Beneath the skin, eerie dark-gold patterns were rapidly emerging, like living chains coiling, tightening, and finally embedding themselves deep into flesh and blood. "...Ridiculous," Xiao Han said, but the corner of his lips curled into a faint, almost appreciative curve. "But, as agreed." Shi Meng let out a beast-like howl. Su Wanqing closed her eyes. Lin Yi's knees buckled, nearly collapsing— But the next second, he sensed a thread of soul connection, so weak it was almost nonexistent, yet stubbornly struggling. Seized and dragged away by some invisible force, sealed into some cold, hard container. Xiao Han released his hand, his palm empty. He looked at Lin Yi, his eyes restored to absolute calm. "The contract is established," he said. "The shackles will continuously erode your spiritual power, your flesh, and even your soul. Until you are completely reduced to a mortal, or... dead." "Cherish the time you've bought, Oathbreaker. Next time we meet, I will personally complete the cleanup." The mist dissipated, revealing the savage night of the wilderness. The cold wind howled, sweeping up dust and the scent of blood. Mo Chen's body lay on the cold ground, his chest no longer rising and falling. Shi Meng knelt beside Mo Chen, his large hand trembling as he reached toward his nostrils. Stopped. He pressed against his chest. The heartbeat had stopped too. The big man's shoulders began to shake violently, suppressed, broken sobs escaping his throat. Su Wanqing staggered over, her fingertips glowing with faint healing light as she pressed it against Mo Chen's chest. Lin Yi remained standing. The dark-gold patterns under the skin of his left arm slowly writhed, bringing a cold, tingling numbness and a continuous, subtle pain of erosion. He could feel it—his power was being siphoned away bit by bit by the chains. The Right of First Theft fell silent, like a stone buried in the deep sea. Su Wanqing's lips moved slightly, as if she wanted to say something. But in the end, she only asked softly, "Did you feel it? His soul..." He walked to Mo Chen's side, crouched down, and used his still-functional right hand to close his master's eyes. The movement was gentle, as if afraid to disturb an unawakened dream. Then he looked up, gazing in the direction where Yun Zhi's presence had vanished. "She intercepted a wisp," Lin Yi continued, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Sealed it into a Soul-Guiding Amber. The price is... I owe her a small favor." "A small favor?!" His eyes were bloodshot. "The kind of 'small favor' a person like her—" He pushed himself up from his knees. His left arm hung at his side, numb, like a dead thing that didn't belong to him. The dark-gold patterns had already spread to his shoulder blade, like some kind of growing parasitic vine. "But now, we at least still have something to fight for." "Mo Chen's remnant soul. My debt. And..." Su Wanqing looked at his back and suddenly shivered. It wasn't fear—it was something deeper, almost a premonitory tremor. She saw the patterns on Lin Yi's left arm glowing faintly, ominously, in the night. "Where to next?" Shi Meng asked hoarsely, his fists clenched tight. "Find Yun Zhi," he said. "Before she decides what that 'small favor' is, we need to know first... what exactly the Soul-Guiding Amber is." His left leg felt heavy as if filled with lead, but each step was planted firmly. The dark-gold patterns glowed faintly with each step, as if breathing. Su Wanqing and Shi Meng exchanged a glance and silently followed. Behind them, Mo Chen's body lay quietly on the cold ground, like an abandoned stone statue. But in the far northeast direction, deep within the shadows of the broken cliff, an amber-colored crystal was growing slightly warm. And a newly begun, even crueler transaction. He placed his left hand behind his back, his right hand held flat. Above his palm, a faint halo hovered quietly, only the size of an infant's fist. Its light brightened and dimmed intermittently, each pulse tugging at Lin Yi's breath. Within the halo, Mo Chen's familiar yet unfamiliar aura was dissipating at an alarming rate. He almost knelt, but stubbornly held himself up. His throat felt stuffed with scalding sand, every swallow scraping painfully. His gaze was locked on that ball of light—the last trace of his Lin Yi's pupils contracted to pinpoints. The deafening roar of his pounding heart drowned out all surrounding sounds. Blood rushed to his head, only to rapidly cool in his extremities. He stared at the soul-flame in Xiao Han's hand. Within its faint halo, he seemed to see the last look Mo Chen had given him—calm, understanding, carrying a trust that was almost cruel. Hand over the "Right of Initial Theft"? Surrender the only reliance that allowed him to glimpse the loopholes in the rules? Abandon the sole possibility he had to defy fate and exact vengeance on all those who had betrayed him? Watch with his own eyes as the last trace of his master's existence was utterly extinguished before him? Xiao Han began the countdown. His voice was not loud, yet it pierced everyone's eardrums like an ice spike. "I'll fight you to the death—!" Shi Meng roared, trying to charge forward. The wound on his right arm tore open again from the exertion, fresh blood soaking through the crude bandage. But he had barely taken half a step before Lin Yi's left hand shot out, gripping him with desperate strength. Lin Yi's hand was icy cold, his knuckles white from the strain, his nails nearly digging into the flesh of Shi Meng's arm. He didn't look at Shi Meng, his eyes still fixed on the soul-flame. His lips trembled, but the words he forced out were unnervingly clear: "...Wait." "Wait for what?!" Shi Meng's forehead veins bulged, his voice hoarse. "Wait for him to crush the Silent Master's soul?!" Lin Yi's breathing grew heavy. It wasn't calmness, but a deathly stillness born of something being suppressed to its absolute limit, forcibly held in check. His mind was a blank slate, save for two options that tore and crashed against each other in a frenzy. Each one was barbed and bloody; choosing either would shred what remained of his soul. Surrendering his power meant abandoning all the endurance and suffering of the past three years, giving up his revenge against the Lin Family, against his father, against that so-called "Heaven's Way." To live on would merely make him another walking corpse tamed by the rules. That old man who, in his deepest despair, had opened a window for him with silence and carved words. That "Silent Master" who bore secrets heavier than his own. That Mo Chen who had burned himself to drag Lin Yi out from under Xiao Han's rule suppression... Su Wanqing moved. The fingertips she had been using to maintain the illusory mist barrier trembled slightly, the pale blue phantom light flickering unsteadily. She took a deep breath and looked at Xiao Han, her voice striving for steadiness: "Enforcer Xiao... Is there any way..." "Dreamweaver." Xiao Han cut her off, his gaze not even shifting. "You have already overstepped. Interfere further, and you become an enemy of the Enforcement Court. Can the 'Thousand-Faced Sect' behind you bear that consequence?" Su Wanqing's face instantly paled. She bit her lower lip, the phantom light at her fingertips fluctuating violently for a moment before ultimately settling. She said no more. Outside the mist barrier, that icy, orderly pressure surged like a tangible tide, continuously battering against it. Fine, spider-web cracks had already appeared on the barrier's surface, emitting faint, almost inaudible sounds of strain. Time stretched like pulled elastic, each passing moment unbearably long and suffocating. Lin Yi could hear the roar of his own blood rushing in his ears. He could feel the cold, numbing itch spreading from the seal on his left arm toward his shoulder—a sign of the backlash from the rules as the "Right of Initial Theft" was suppressed. His throat tightened, making the act of swallowing unusually difficult. Just as the despair of this countdown was about to drive him mad— A subtle, strangely magnetic voice, like a cold needle, pierced abruptly into his mind. It was Yun Zhi! The voice sounded directly in his consciousness, carrying a trace of barely detectable urgency. *I can snatch a single wisp. Just one wisp of soul-fragment. Stuff it into a 'Soul-Guiding Amber' for temporary storage.* Yun Zhi's words came fast, as if evading some kind of scan. *But after that, his soul will become a thorn in the 'Heaven's Way's' eye, just like yours. Whether he ever wakes up is up to fate. And you'll owe me a 'small favor.'* Lin Yi's pupils contracted violently. A third path? A path darker, more unknown, and riskier than the first two! *What is 'Soul-Guiding Amber'?* He tried to press the question into his consciousness, but only Yun Zhi's faster, hushed words came back. *No time to explain Hand over authority? Impossible. That would be admitting defeat, acknowledging that the rules of the "Heavenly Dao" could not be defied, and personally burying the "possibility" that his master had traded his life for. Not hand it over? Watch the soul flame be extinguished before his eyes? He couldn't do that. Yun Zhi's plan... seize a wisp of a remnant soul? Seal it into the 'Soul-Guiding Amber'? The cost was an unknown "minor matter," and also turning his master's remnant soul into a target for the "Heavenly Dao" to hunt. The success rate was unknown, the risk was extremely high. But... there was at least a sliver of hope. At least it wasn't complete "nothingness."