“What’s happening?”

“Do you guys see that black fog up in the sky? Looks like it’s right above the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword!”

“I’ve seen that black fog before!” a man shouted. “At last year’s Sword-Drawing Day, the Wenren family had three youths draw swords, and then this black fog appeared around the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword. Anyone who touched that fog… best-case scenario, they got their skin torn up; worst-case, they died on the spot.”

Someone quickly agreed, “I saw that black fog too. They say it’s the sword spirit of the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword acting up.”

“Is that true?”

“How could it be false?”

In the sky, the black fog gathered, taking the form of a tornado, sucking up the air around it with a force so fierce it seemed ready to cover the entire sky.

The sound of the wind roared.

The sight in the sky was visibly changing by the moment. Ordinary people, who’d been hiding indoors, began peeking out through doors and windows, staring at the scene above with horrified expressions.

The black fog slowly spread outward, blocking out the daylight, making it look almost like dusk even though it was noon.

This sudden anomaly had everyone on edge. The braver ones grouped up and rushed toward the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword, only to find that, after a year of silence, the sword was now trembling violently.

“The Seven-Star Kunlun Sword is reacting!”

“Why is it like this? Did someone touch it?”

“Who’d dare touch it? It must be reacting on its own.”

The crowd grew larger, with everyone talking over each other.

Then someone suddenly said, “Could it be that demon outside that’s causing the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword to react?”

Someone immediately refuted, “Impossible! The Seven-Star Kunlun Sword is a righteous relic, sealed in the Capital City for over a decade. How could it have anything to do with that demon?”

“But that demon is also a member of the Hulü family.”

At that, the person who’d been arguing fell silent.

After a moment, someone uncertainly added, “The Seven-Star Kunlun Sword is the life-bound sword of Hulü Wan, the eldest daughter of the foremost righteous family. She’s always been known for her chivalrous heart and clear sense of right and wrong. There’s no way she would have any connection to the demonic realm, and her life-bound sword wouldn’t submit to a demon either.”

“Exactly. So what if that demon has the Hulü surname? The moment he set foot in the demonic realm, he ceased to have anything to do with us or the Hulü family.”

Despite these arguments, the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword’s trembling only intensified, as if it were ready to break free from the ground.

Soon, someone realized something was wrong and, tugging at those nearby, shouted, “The Seven-Star Kunlun Sword is coming out; everyone, get back!”

Before the words were fully spoken, the trembling spread beneath everyone’s feet. A thick black fog shot out of the ground before most people could even react.

In an instant, the smell of blood filled the air, and cries of agony rang out.

Anyone who touched the black fog had their skin instantly torn open. The fiercer the debate just now, the louder and more anguished the screams became.

A suffocating deathly aura spread through the air, filled with seething hatred, intertwining with the black fog and forming a storm of ghostly wails and howling winds.

The daylight dimmed abruptly.

The strong wind knocked people over like leaves, as though a disaster had arrived.

Footsteps, screams, and cries filled the air, making the land feel like it was sealed tight within an impenetrable jar.

Despair and shock painted every face as they watched the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword pulled out from the ground by an unseen force, black fog swirling around the trembling blade.

Amid the humming and vibrating, there seemed to be a low, raspy voice calling out for something.

The sight made everyone’s skin crawl, their throats tightening until they could barely breathe.

That was the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword!

Hulü Wan’s life-bound sword!

Why was it now so heavily tainted with demonic aura and murderous intent?

It was no longer a sword of justice but a blood-drenched blade of slaughter.

No one dared linger any longer; they scrambled to flee in panic.

Amid the chaos, the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword was swept into the heart of the black fog vortex.

In the next instant, a hurricane-like gust blew over, exploding the once concentrated black fog across the sky.

Day turned into night.

For a moment, everything vanished into darkness.

Hulü Xing thought he was dreaming.

How could he have lost so easily?

How could his son have died so easily?

If this were a dream, it would be the nightmare he wished he’d never have to remember again.

All he wanted was to wake up from it.

But the truth was, he wasn’t dreaming.

The hatred in Hulü Yan’s eyes was all too real, his deep black eyes staring at him unwaveringly, almost identical to Hulü Wan’s gaze from more than a decade ago.

And that was the look he hated most.

Those eyes had witnessed his disgrace, his failures, his lifelong regrets—all the things he’d tried to obtain, which his parents had instead laid out at the feet of the one who owned those eyes.

Hulü Wan.

Always Hulü Wan.

After more than ten years, he was still living in her shadow.

Her name had become a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

Blood blurred his vision, his arms lost, leaving him only able to dodge without attacking.

Hulü Yan didn’t seem intent on killing him right away, slowly taunting him like a cat with a mouse, watching with disdain as he scrambled to avoid.

It was like being taken back in time.

In his early teens, he’d been a mediocre boy, having joined a renowned sect early and training night and day, only to be effortlessly beaten by Hulü Wan with a slender tree branch.

He’d fallen to the ground in disgrace, his hair disheveled, clothes dusty, his cheeks burning hot.

He’d looked up with difficulty and saw Hulü Wan standing elegantly.

She wore a soft pink dress, the hem swaying in the breeze, her long black hair neatly tied in a beautiful bun.

Compared to his pitiful state, Hulü Wan looked like a fairy untouched by the mortal world, even the tree branch that had effortlessly subdued him seemed to taint the whiteness of her fingers.

He’d heard their mother’s laughter, “Little Wan, throw that stick away—it’s filthy.”

Hulü Wan laughed obediently, tossed the stick, and turned to nestle in their mother’s embrace, saying playfully, “Sticks aren’t as good as swords.”

Their mother gently touched her nose, “Didn’t you say you’d go easy on your brother?”

“Brother joined later than I did, so it’s only fair to give him a head start. When he becomes better than me, he’ll let me have the advantage.” Hulü Wan turned her head, smiling brightly at Hulü Xing. “Right?”

No!

I don’t need your pity!

And I’ll never let you win!

Blood-tears spilled from Hulü Xing’s eyes. Suddenly, pain shot through his leg, and he fell forward.

He looked down.

His left foot was gone.

Hulü Yan appeared in front of him like a phantom, his lips lifting slightly as he gazed down at him.

In that moment, Hulü Yan’s face crossed two decades, merging seamlessly with Hulü Wan’s, even the downward tilt of his gaze identical.

Hulü Xing gasped for air, pain nearly making him pass out multiple times. Armless and now with one foot missing, he could only sit and push himself backward.

His eyes remained fixed on Hulü Yan’s face.

Hulü Wan.

It was Hulü Wan.

She had returned.

As he struggled back, Hulü Yan followed, and when he could no longer retreat, Hulü Yan smirked, “Once, I barely clung to life in the Cold Abyss. Now, how does it feel?”

Hulü Xing’s eyes were blood-red, his lips quivering, unable to utter a complete sentence.

Hulü Yan squatted down slowly. “But I had it much worse. I lost my eyes, ears, and tongue. At least you can still see, hear, and speak, can’t you?”

He paused, then smiled at Hulü Xing, “But we have plenty of time to take the rest, don’t we?”

Don’t we?

The same face.

The same tone.

The same two words.

Suddenly, in Hulü Xing’s mind, the last strained string snapped—

Snapped.

“No! No! No—” Hulü Xing shot up, his expression contorted, summoning his final weapon—a net for trapping.

He chanted quickly, his words nearly incomprehensible.

The net expanded, descending upon Hulü Yan like a vast shroud.

Hulü Yan would have to struggle to tear it with his bare hands, giving Hulü Xing a chance.

Hulü Yan killed his son, so he would take Hulü Yan’s life, even if it cost him his own.

As he threw the net, Hulü Xing chanted faster, his pale skin emitting a faint golden glow.

“Look out!” a voice cried nearby. “Leader, he’s going to self-destruct!”

Hulü Yan, trapped in the net, only grew more bound as he struggled.

Kicking away those blocking him, Zhou Shang ran toward Hulü Yan.

But it was too late.

The golden glow on Hulü Xing’s body grew stronger, reaching a point of no return.

“Hulü Wan, I don’t need your pity. You lost, completely and utterly.” Hulü Xing laughed wildly, eyes full of hatred. “Even in death, I am the Head of the Hulü Family, and you are nothing.”

His laughter faded as he stared numbly at Hulü Yan caught in the net, murmuring to himself, “I am the best of the Hulü Family. I am no less than Hulü Wan.”

Even if she was adored by their parents, she was ruined by him.

He was the true victor.

Would their parents in heaven finally see it?

Did they ever regret their disdain for him?

A newfound joy arose in Hulü Xing’s heart. Decades of being beaten down, oppressed, and humiliated were now finally being purged.

Compared to his newfound joy, physical pain and death meant nothing.

In the end—

He had won.

Hulü Xing calmly prepared himself to embrace death.

But instead of death, he was met by a massive cloud of black fog, stretching across the sky.

The black fog spun into countless threads, darting straight at Hulü Yan.

Hulü Xing felt as if the earth itself were shaking.

In disbelief, he watched as the black fog wrapped around Hulü Yan, swirling furiously around him, almost as if conveying some sort of wild excitement.

When the fog cleared, a brand-new sword lay in Hulü Yan’s hand—the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword.