The flames of the blood curse burned too fiercely, and even in the subconscious of Hulü Yan, the severely injured protagonist, he could no longer change the scenery freely. 

He could only try again and again to drag Mi Lu toward the edge of the flames. Inside the flames, there was only dazzling light—nothing else. 

There was no thick smoke, but it felt as though an invisible pair of hands was peeling away the oxygen from Mi Lu’s lungs, unraveling him like a cocoon. 

The sensation of suffocation gently enveloped Mi Lu’s face, like a wet piece of paper.

Forced by desperation, Mi Lu opened his mouth wide, trying to draw more oxygen from the scalding air. He realized he was slowing them down. 

Without him, Hulü Yan would be able to move faster and further, instead of being repeatedly brushed by the flames, which burned his skin and filled the air with a pungent, unpleasant smell. Mi Lu’s entire face was soaked with tears, the salty and bitter taste slowly seeping down his throat. 

This taste seemed to awaken some of his senses.

“I… I have a Vanquishing Grief Robe on me…” he spoke in a voice as small as a mosquito, unsure if Hulü Yan could hear him. “If I die… you wear it…”

Hulü Yan’s breathing was heavy; he did not respond to Mi Lu’s words, as if he hadn’t heard them or perhaps lacked the strength to respond. But Mi Lu knew that Hulü Yan, being so clever, surely understood what he was saying. “Without me… you can get out…”

“No.” Finally, Hulü Yan squeezed a few words between gritted teeth, his breaths becoming increasingly labored. “I don’t want to.”

“Hulü Yan…”

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn…”

“No.”

In the end, Mi Lu could no longer make any sound. He felt a mix of anger and helplessness. Hulü Yan was still the same stubborn, disobedient child. The direct consequence of Hulü Yan’s actions was the depletion of his strength. 

First, the hands dragging Mi Lu fell away, and then he collapsed onto Mi Lu. His left leg had already been retrieved from Wu Qi, leaving only his hands made of white lotus. 

Although they were high quality—meticulously selected by Mi Lu and crafted by someone else—they couldn’t withstand the flames of the blood curse ignited by Lin Ji at the expense of his own body and the Dragon Chant Sword.

That the white lotus had held up until now was indeed impressive. They had just fallen to the ground when they turned into two charred black coals, which, when the wind blew, transformed into black powder and disappeared into the hot air. 

Mi Lu felt Hulü Yan’s breath weakening. Perhaps before long, they would both perish here. Maybe it was the extreme pain that caused it, but just before dying, Mi Lu seemed to hallucinate that the flames enveloping them were forcefully split apart by an invisible force.

A figure walked through the split wall of fire, approaching through the high flames. Mi Lu’s eyes, drenched in physiological tears, couldn’t see the person’s figure or face clearly. Even after the figure entered his vision, it twisted into a signal-poor black doodle. However, he roughly guessed the person’s identity—Qiu Bei, the eldest disciple of the elder from Tian Ming Mountain.

As far as Mi Lu knew, Qiu Bei was naturally gifted with a singular water spirit root, intelligent and perceptive, capable of piercing through mysteries with ease. 

In his teens, on Sword Extraction Day, he had slightly pulled the deeply rooted Seven Star Kunlun Sword out about an inch under the watchful eyes of the public, immediately shocking everyone present. 

Mi Lu’s understanding of Qiu Bei did not come from experiences after dying during the previous ten cycles but from observations while serving the plot as a tool.

Qiu Bei was an exceptionally talented cultivator. However, Mi Lu did not understand why Qiu Bei would get involved with Lin Ji. Although Tian Ming Mountain and the Tai Sheng Sect had a deep connection, Qiu Bei, with his straightforward character, had always disdained Lin Ji’s hypocritical facade. 

Despite being the eldest disciple of a Tian Ming Mountain elder, he avoided Lin Ji whenever possible. Thus, in the revenge list prepared by Hulü Yan, Mi Lu did not see Qiu Bei’s name. Why would Qiu Bei appear at this time? 

Could it be that he had inadvertently altered the plotline belonging to Qiu Bei after regaining his self-awareness?

Mi Lu couldn’t figure it out; he only knew that Qiu Bei might have other motives. Maybe he wanted to kill Hulü Yan, or perhaps he sought to take advantage of the situation for his own benefit. 

As his thoughts raced, Qiu Bei reached them and placed a finger gently on Mi Lu’s forehead. Instantly, it was as if ripples spread in front of Mi Lu’s eyes, growing larger and rapidly spreading outward. 

The blue waves covered the bright red flames. The scalding air, like a tide, rushed away with the ripples. Simultaneously, the pain in Mi Lu’s body significantly lessened; the sharp pain that made him wish for death suddenly diminished, and he gasped for air, realizing his clothes were soaked with sweat.

He couldn’t afford to think too much; gritting his teeth, he struggled to his feet, shaking violently, and held Hulü Yan in his arms. Hulü Yan had fallen unconscious and was severely injured; his beautiful, pale face was marred by fiery red wounds. His skin was split open, and the sight was horrifying. 

Even his waterfall-like black hair had been mostly burned away. Although Mi Lu knew Hulü Yan couldn’t possibly be unharmed, when he clearly saw Hulü Yan’s face, his mind seemed to explode. 

Despite the surrounding air being so scorching, despite being drenched in sweat, at that moment, a chill descended from the sky, enveloping him. He suddenly understood what it felt like to be chilled to the bone.

His hands and feet were cold. His heart was cold. His entire being felt as if plunged into an ice cave. He couldn’t imagine how much pain Hulü Yan must be enduring; he didn’t dare to think about how Hulü Yan had managed to hold on. 

All he could feel was grief over his abandonment, cowardice, and the thought of leaving Hulü Yan behind to face this world alone. He trembled with sorrow. He regretted it. Perhaps he should learn from Hulü Yan and struggle against the mire.

Mi Lu raised his hand to wipe the tears from the corner of his eye. Now, he could finally see Qiu Bei’s face clearly. Qiu Bei was circulating spiritual energy to disperse the flames of the blood curse; with his uniquely gifted water spirit root and advanced cultivation, he could carve out a small space to breathe even in the midst of the blood curse’s flames. 

However, the power of the blood curse was too strong, and Qiu Bei was struggling to hold on.

Mi Lu hoarsely asked, “Are you here to save us or to kill us?” Qiu Bei squatted on the ground, a bead of sweat seeping from his forehead, his calm gaze constantly on Hulü Yan, his fingertip still touching Hulü Yan’s forehead.

“I didn’t expect Lin Ji to ignite the curse with his body. His resolve was too great, and I couldn’t stop him. It also took me some effort to find you,” Qiu Bei replied, implying the answer without directly addressing Mi Lu’s question.

Mi Lu understood, but beyond the clear mirror of understanding lay fog-shrouded territory. He stared directly at Qiu Bei. “What are you trying to say?”

Qiu Bei hesitated, then finally deigned to look up at Mi Lu. Mi Lu’s face was deathly pale, his brows furrowed in obvious pain. Although he was in excruciating pain, he carefully held Hulü Yan in his arms, trying to find a position that wouldn’t touch Hulü Yan’s wounds.

Qiu Bei had long known that the person accompanying Hulü Yan was the lost young master of the Mi family, raised in luxury and cherished by Mr. and Mrs. Mi like a fragile object. 

He didn’t harbor bad feelings toward Mi Lu, but he wasn’t particularly fond of him either. 

To put it bluntly, he had never taken a serious look at Mi Lu. A pampered young master—this was his evaluation of Mi Lu. 

However, hearing Mi Lu’s words just now made him realize that this young master, whom he hadn’t taken seriously, was smarter and more sensitive than he had imagined. 

Mi Lu didn’t ask why; he directly asked what Qiu Bei wanted to say. It seemed Mi Lu had guessed that he and Lin Ji were not on the same side and had followed Lin Ji and the others here to find the right opportunity to talk to them.

To be precise, to talk to Hulü Yan. How could Mi Lu, who could take Hulü Yan away under the watchful eyes of the Hulü family and cause half the cultivation world to be in an uproar without even showing his face, be a mediocre and thoughtless pampered young master? 

Qiu Bei realized he had prejudged based on a sliver of evidence.

“Now that the eyes and left leg have returned,” Qiu Bei thought for a moment, then said, “what’s missing are a pair of hands and a heart.” 

As he spoke, water-blue ripples continued to flow from his fingertip into Hulü Yan’s forehead. 

Hulü Yan’s long eyelashes trembled slightly, and slowly, he opened his eyes.