Pain was the first thing he felt.
Not the sharp kind—the kind that screamed from open wounds or shattered bones. No, this was deeper. Colder. It was the pain of being chained.
Of being bound.
Xiao Yun opened his eyes slowly.
His vision blurred, then cleared. Rough stone ceiling. Faint torchlight flickering from carved sconces. The scent of medicinal herbs, blood, and iron filled the air.
A prison.
He tried to move.
Couldn't.
His wrists and ankles were bound with frost-etched shackles, each one etched with layers of suppressive talismanic scripts. His qi was sealed. His Void Core quieted—barely humming like a dying ember.
They knew what he was.
He turned his head.
A wall of ice covered the cell door like a transparent veil. Through it, he could see figures moving beyond—sect disciples, guards in steel armor, and one woman with her arms crossed.
Her.
Miss Yue.
She stood like a blade—tall, poised, wrapped in flowing navy-and-white robes, her black hair tied in a high tail. A crystal sword rested on her back, the hilt gleaming with cold runes.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then she stepped through the ice wall, and it slid open like water parting around her.
She stopped a meter from him, arms behind her back.
"You're awake."
He didn't answer.
"You fell from the sky. Crashed into a farmer's field. Burned half the crops and tore open a crack in the leyline below. Explain."
Still, silence.
Yue studied him. Her voice remained calm, but her eyes were sharp—measuring, dissecting.
"You're not from this region. You're not from this era."
That made him smirk, despite the pain.
She noticed.
"And you think this is funny?"
"No," he rasped. "I think it's pathetic."
She didn't flinch.
"Careful. You're not in control."
"I never was," he said. "That's what makes me dangerous."
She stepped closer. The air around her dropped ten degrees. Her qi was potent—pure, refined, but contained like a coiled serpent. If she was this calm while alone in a room with a crippled Void cultivator, then she either had overwhelming strength…
Or arrogance.
"My name is Yue Qingsi," she said. "Third disciple of the Coldmoon Sword Sect. Elder Yuan has ordered your transfer to our peak. We'll extract answers there. Forcefully, if necessary."
He spat blood at her feet.
"You can't hold me."
"Is that so?"
She raised a hand. Her fingers snapped.
Frost surged from the walls, coiling tighter around his bindings. Ice needles formed over the shackles, drilling into his skin. He grunted—but didn't scream.
"You carry remnants of god-killing qi," she said. "We found traces in your blood. In your soul threads. That's a crime punishable by execution under every sect in this realm."
"I've died before," he muttered.
"You'll die slower this time."
She turned to leave.
The ice wall began to re-form.
"Wait," he said suddenly.
She paused.
"I saw you once," he said. "In another life. Standing over my corpse."
Her spine stiffened.
He kept going.
"You were laughing. Smiling. And holding a sword made from my bones."
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Yue turned slowly, her expression unreadable.
"Impossible."
"Memory fragment from a Void Heart Relic," he whispered. "You were there. You killed me… or helped them do it."
She said nothing.
Then walked back to him. This time slower. He saw her knuckles tighten behind her back.
"Do not test me, stranger."
He smiled, even as his vision flickered.
"You've already been tested."
A loud crack echoed through the chamber.
The frost on his bindings—split.
Just a hairline fracture. But it spread fast.
Yue's eyes widened.
"No…"
Too late.
BOOM!
Void qi surged from his chest, exploding outward in black arcs. The chains shattered, the wall behind him blew apart, and the cell became a crater.
Xiao Yun launched forward like a shadow, grabbing Yue by the throat before she could draw her sword.
But she moved just as fast.
A burst of sword intent erupted from her body, slicing his arm open and driving him back.
She landed on one knee, coughing, eyes wild with fury.
"You're still bleeding," she said.
"I like it that way."
He lunged.
She met him halfway.
Their clash was brutal.
No formality. No techniques.
Just raw power.
His fists dripped with void flame. Her sword bursts with glacial edge.
They moved through the shattered prison like twin storms, walls crumbling as they tore through it. Guards shouted from outside. Horns blared.
A massive blast sent them both flying in opposite directions.
Xiao Yun crashed through a support beam, blood spraying from his mouth. He rolled, then stood. His body screamed in protest. The Third Gate had given him strength—but no healing.
Not yet.
Yue stood too, her robe torn at the shoulder, blade drawn, frost rising around her like a blizzard.
"Enough!" someone roared from above.
A dozen Coldmoon sect elders descended, qi bursting through the shattered ceiling.
Swords drawn.
Rings glowing.
Xiao Yun hissed, already backing toward the broken wall behind him. His Void Core was flickering. He could get maybe one more surge—
And then collapse.
Yue raised a hand. "He's mine."
"You've failed to restrain him!" a silver-haired elder barked. "Step aside, Qingsi!"
"I said—he's mine!"
Xiao Yun laughed, voice hoarse. "Looks like your sect doesn't trust you."
Her glare turned toward him.
"I don't need trust," she snapped. "I need results."
The elders hesitated.
Xiao Yun turned—then bolted.
Through the wall. Through the ruins. Into the outer courtyard, where startled disciples scattered.
He didn't look back.
He called on the last drop of void qi.
His chest burned. Veins split. But the void answered.
He leapt—
And flew.
Over the wall. Into the night.
The cold air slammed against his face as he soared over treetops, crashing through leaves and branches, heading toward the wild forest beyond.
Behind him, horns kept blowing.
They would hunt him.
He didn't care.
He was alive.
He was free.
For now.
---
Far above the Coldmoon Sect, atop a floating obsidian platform cloaked in storm clouds, someone watched.
A man.
Shrouded in black robes etched with crimson stars.
His face was hidden behind a silver mask. But his eyes glowed faintly—one gold, one pitch black.
He stood before a massive scrying mirror, watching the escape unfold.
Then turned.
Behind him, kneeling in silence, was a girl in gray.
Her eyes were stitched shut.
"Is it him?" the masked man asked.
The girl didn't speak. She simply nodded.
A smile formed beneath the mask.
"The Void Tyrant… reborn."
He turned back to the mirror.
"Begin Phase Two."