Kai collapsed.
The Crucible's heat surged around him like a divine forge, hissing with every stolen breath. He lay curled at its center, his skin slick with spiritual sweat, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. The technique he had flung moments ago—Mirror Breaks the Moon—had cracked the Crucible's seals for less than a heartbeat. Not enough. Not even close.
Now, his Qi was draining faster. The siphoning had resumed at double pace.
He was breaking.
And she knew it.
The Immortal Paragon stood above him, arms folded loosely in her sleeves, the picture of grace layered over venom.
"You really thought that would work?" she asked, tilting her head in feigned sympathy. "You're clever, Kai Feng. But you're not clever enough."
Kai forced himself up onto his elbows. His hands trembled, breath ragged. "You… said you would show me the truth."
"Since you're going to die," she said softly, "why not enjoy a story before the end? Stories are sacred, after all. And you, bookkeeper that you are, deserve to be written into one. This is the gift that I have promised you after all, even though you are going to die for it."
She knelt beside him, the hem of her luminous robe floating inches from the floor.
Kai spat blood to the side and narrowed his eyes. "You seem awfully eager to talk for someone who claims to be above mortals."
"Oh, Kai," she sighed. "You still don't understand. I am above mortals. That's why I don't need to lie anymore. And that's what makes telling the truth so… delicious."
She stood, turning her back to him.
"The truth, then," she said.
And the Crucible dimmed slightly—not in threat, but in attention, as if the chamber itself wished to listen.
She began to pace, her voice deceptively light.
"Once, I had no name. Or rather, I had one—but it wasn't important. I was born into the Liu clan. An old name. Not a great one, not a powerful one, but reputable. Dutiful. Loyal."
Her tone grew sharp, brittle.
"And naive."
She stopped pacing and looked upward, her eyes reflecting the golden inscriptions swirling above them.
"My father was a man of numbers. Trade routes. Tithes. Contracts. He was brilliant—but too trusting. He placed everything into a partnership with an old friend. A childhood brother-in-arms who promised wealth beyond imagination. What he got instead… was debt. Collapse. Betrayal."
Her voice dipped, almost wistful.
"My mother drank bitter leaf tea that morning. My father followed by nightfall. They left me a name no one wanted. A crest stamped in red. And a clan reduced to begging for scraps from sects too proud to even spit on us."
She looked at Kai again.
"I was sent to the Azure Cloud Sect. Not as a disciple. Not as a cultivator. But as a servant. A handmaiden."
Kai's breath hitched.
"You… were Jiang Xue's—"
"Yes," she said flatly. "I was her handmaiden."
She began to walk again, slow steps echoing in the crucible.
"When she married Dai Tianxiang, the sect's great leader, I was assigned to her personal retinue. The irony, of course, was exquisite. The daughter of a disgraced clan… attending the wedding of the woman who had everything."
Her voice tightened.
"Position. Power. Beauty. Talent. Love. All wrapped in those moonlit eyes and that graceful voice."
Kai looked up slowly, seeing the layers peel back from the Paragon's face. The serene mask remained, but the voice beneath it was alive with scorn.
"She never mistreated me, no," the Paragon said. "That would have been too easy. No, Jiang Xue was kind. She smiled. She asked after my health. She treated me like a friend."
Her lips twisted.
"That was the worst part."
She turned her head, only slightly.
"Because I hated her."
Kai said nothing.
"I hated how easily she walked through doors I could only scrub. I hated how everyone adored her without question. I hated how she whispered with Dai Tianxiang late at night on the high balconies, as if no one else in the world mattered."
She paused, gaze distant.
"And I told myself she only attained her high cultivation because she seduced Mo Xuan. That she clung to Dai Tianxiang with that gentle smile and perfect hair, flaunting her purity like a crown."
A beat passed.
"I told myself she was nothing without the men around her. That if they were taken away… she would fall."
She turned back toward Kai, and her eyes were cold now. Bright. Lit by something far older than resentment.
"And so I waited. I smiled. I bowed. I braided her hair. I served her damn meals. And I listened."
Kai's chest tightened. He knew what came next. The pieces were forming.
"I planted the first seed with Pu Erniang that Elder from your Sect's Shadow Hall," she continued. "The way she watched Dai Tianxiang… it was obvious. She never got over him. And so I fed the fire."
Her voice became syrupy, mocking.
"Did you see how he smiled at Lady Jiang, Elder? It's wonderful how loving the couple are!"
She laughed.
"She fumed for months. Eventually, I whispered that they were already expecting a child. That Jiang Xue had 'won' the prize. The jealousy cut so deep, Elder Pu hated Jiang Xue with a quiet, seething fury that curdled into obsession."
She spread her arms, as though admiring an art piece.
"Poor, vain, hopeful Erniang. Always dreaming. Always believing that Dai Tianxiang still thought of her."
Kai's blood turned to ice.
"Oh yes," the Paragon purred. "I would often visit Erniang as a friend. During one of the spring ceremonies, when she'd had too much wine, I told her that Dai Tianxiang would have chosen her, if not for the pregnancy. I said that Lady Jiang used the child as a leash. That every time he looked at Erniang, it was with longing."
Her eyes glinted.
"It was a lie, of course. He never looked at her. But she believed it. And when I told her Jiang Xue would be gone for a training retreat—well… Er Niang saw her chance."
Kai's voice cracked. "You knew about the massacre."
Kai's voice cracked, hoarse with disbelief. "You… you knew about the massacre?"
The Paragon turned, her expression unreadable for a breath—then split into something cold and gleaming.
"I didn't just know about it," she said, her voice like silk pulled across a blade. "I planned it."
She began to circle him again, her footsteps silent against the Crucible's glowing floor.
"Er Niang was never clever. Vain, sentimental, hungry for affection—but not clever. She would never have dared without a little… guidance."
She stopped and looked down at him, her smile tight.
"She wanted to hurt Jiang Xue. I simply gave her the means."
Her tone dropped to a purr.
"I suggested a poison. Not a killer's brew, no. Something subtle. Something that would only weaken a cultivator fresh from a major breakthrough—disrupt their Qi flow, dull their senses, slow their reaction time just enough in a real battle."
Kai's stomach turned.
"She took the idea eagerly," the Paragon continued, eyes distant with pleasure. "Found the mixture in one of her old training texts. She thought it was her own discovery."
She gave a faint chuckle.
"But it wasn't."
Her eyes glinted.
"It was mine."
Kai's heart pounded in his ears.
"And then, the final step is that old rat Shen Zhenhai."
She said the name like it was a curse.
"What he wanted—what he obsessed over—was her power," she said. She took a step forward, and her voice lowered.
"He studied her, shadowed her, flattered her in public, all while nursing one thought: If only I had her technique. Her talent. Her body of Qi. He believed she was blessed unfairly—that her strength was undeserved, stolen, wasted on someone who didn't hunger for greatness the way he did."
Kai's eyes narrowed. "And you fed that."
The Paragon's smile turned cruel.
"I didn't need to feed it. I just… aimed it."
She moved as if recounting a fond memory.
"I told him Jiang Xue was hiding a weakness—something dangerous she couldn't control after her last breakthrough. I repeated the little poison recipe I'd coaxed out of Er Niang. I told him, Imagine what you could do with her out of the way. Imagine if her legacy could be yours."
Her voice darkened.
"And he did."
She turned toward Kai, robes trailing light behind her.
"He slipped it into her preparation broth before Jiang Xue planned to face your sect to exact her revenge. He thought it was his idea, that it would just tilt the odds. He didn't realize he was a chess piece, part of the chain reaction I was setting in motion."
She exhaled slowly, as if tasting the memory.
"It was beautiful."
Kai could barely breathe.
"And it worked," the Paragon whispered. "Oh, how it worked."
She walked slowly back to him, crouching once again beside his trembling form.
"Do you understand now?" she said gently. "Do you see the truth I promised you?"
Kai tried to speak. No words came. The crucible's pull was constant now, and his limbs refused to answer him.
"I was nothing," she said, more softly now. "But I made myself into something more. Through patience. Through bitterness. Through clarity."
She leaned in, her breath close to his ear.
"I watched as the world burned from shadows. And now… I will refine you into the tool that completes mine."
Kai tried to summon his Qi—but it was slipping from his soul like water through broken stone.
The crucible surged.
The Paragon stood.
And the light grew blinding.