The air shifted. The sky dimmed.
Blood red aura swirling from the masked figure in front of her. It rippled like smoke, curling from his fingers and swirling around his body, bleeding into the wind.
Then came the pressure. A slow, suffocating weight that crept beneath her skin and sank into her bones. Linyue dug her heels into the cracked earth to keep herself from falling. The sword trembled in her hands, betraying her calm.
The masked figure swept his arm across the air. A wave of red-black energy erupted, crashing into them with the force of a thousand storms.
Fast. Merciless. Unforgiving.
The air turned razor-sharp, slashing through her spiritual defenses. It pierced straight into her chest and sank deeper into her soul. Her whole being felt as if it were being torn apart from the inside out. Then came the impact.
The world spun violently as dirt and stone tore at her skin. She hit the ground hard enough to rattle her teeth. Pain flared in her shoulder, bloomed across her ribs, searing hot and unrelenting.
But that wasn't what left her shaking.
It was the cold, hollow absence where her spiritual energy used to be.
Linyue's fingers clawed at the dirt. Her body trembled violently as she forced herself onto her elbows, vision blurred, lungs gasping for air.
She looked around at the others.
Song Meiyu lay face-down in the dirt, unmoving. For one terrible heartbeat, Linyue thought—
Then a hoarse groan broke the silence.
"… Ow! Stupid cabbage demon!" she groaned, voice muffled, spitting dirt.
Beside her, He Yuying coughed. "Did… someone just shove a mountain up my nose?"
Shen Zhenyu had already pushed himself up. He staggered a little—his calm face finally cracked with a deep frown.
Shu Mingye was already at her side. He knelt quickly, grabbing her arm with a trembling hand.
The earth around them split apart, a web of fractures carving through the soil. The air buzzed with the aftertaste of blood.
The masked man stood still.
Unmoving. Untouched. Unbothered.
Meanwhile, they were already broken. Trembling. Weak.
The red-dark aura around him surged again. The ground beneath his feet bled red, dark cracks spreading like veins. The air thickened—red mist rising, curling, spreading fast.
The sky seemed to turn even dimmer.
Song Meiyu's voice cracked. "W-What is that?"
He Yuying whispered, "Nightmare."
That was what it felt like. A living nightmare. One that seeped into her skin, slowed her thoughts, and gnawed at her courage until nothing remained but hollow fear.
Linyue gritted her teeth.
She looked up, saw the red mist still thick in the air.
No spiritual energy answered her call.
None.
She was a cultivator without cultivation.
A warrior without a sword.
A protector with nothing to protect anyone with.
It was hopeless.