Chapter 855: Aged Sun

Qingque didn't dodge.

It's not that she didn't want to dodge; she couldn't avoid it.

The distance was too short, the speed too fast, and a wall was right behind her.

In her pupils reflected the ever‑growing cone tip: a dark‑copper shaft, a cold‑silver blade, cyan‑blue runes spinning and glowing in the air, each detail crystal‑clear to a maddening degree.

In that instant, her back suddenly lost its support.

The wall was still there.

But in that moment, the very thing called "hardness" was pulled away.

The wall's feel changed from icy‑solid wood planks to something like water warmed by sunlight.

Her body slipped backward without resistance.

The wood grain around her turned into soft ripples.

In her final second, she saw the Demon‑Breaking Cone blast the wall apart: shards of brick, wood chips, wall dust all expanded in the air into a gray‑white cloud, the cold cyan‑blue rune light trapped inside, exploding with a thunderous boom.

Everything vanished at last!

Falling.

A soft fall.

The surroundings felt as if immersed in a cup of perfectly drinkable warm water.

No sound, no gravity, no direction.

Qingque remained in that state for barely two seconds before her back suddenly struck something hard, the pain ricocheting upward.

"Wua—!"

She let out a strange sound between a scream and a moan, curled on the ground for two seconds before barely propping up her upper body.

Her mind was still racing, but her eardrums still held the echo of the wall's explosion.

Qingque squinted and looked around: a narrow alley, coarse stone walls on both sides, a few clumps of dry moss growing in the cracks.

Above her was a thin sliver of sky, the light having shifted from afternoon gold to evening dark blue.

Where is this?

Qingque turned back and glanced at the stone wall behind her—solid.

Had she just passed through that wall and fallen out?

Qingque lowered her head to look at her hand; a faint liquid‑like sensation still clung to her fingertips.

Boundless Myriad Blossoms.

It happened again.

Perspective shift.

Xue Yi stood where she was, slowly pulling her arm back.

The wall ahead had been blasted by the Demon‑Breaking Cone into a gap nearly a meter wide, broken bricks and plaster scattered everywhere, the edge still smoldering with cyan‑blue rune ash that flickered in the shadows.

Opposite was another corridor, empty, no silhouettes.

Not even a trace of the green‑skirted girl's silhouette remained.

Xue Yi turned, her small leather boots lightly rolling over the debris, the heel crushing a tiny piece of wood shavings.

She looked toward the far end of the corridor; two bound bodies lay on the ground.

Bai Lu's wrist and ankle Lock chains had been slightly deformed by the struggle, Little Dragon Girl's dragon tail drooped lifelessly on the floor, its tip's soft hair dusted with ash.

Her eyes were half‑closed, eyelashes trembling slightly, and she mumbled something incomprehensible in a daze.

In the wreckage of the medicine chest on the other side, Jing Yuan's leg had already been pulled out of the broken cardboard, but he wasn't fully conscious; white hair scattered among the debris, his lips moved slightly, spitting out a vague syllable.

At the moment Xue Yi stepped between the two and halted, Bai Lu's body twitched lightly.

As if something beneath her skin was moving, trying to find an exit.

After a moment, a lump of vivid green light rose from Bai Lu's chest.

The hue was as thick as a pool of moldy water.

It coalesced in the air, its surface constantly shifting vague facial features: two hollow eye sockets, a crooked mouth, the whole "face" wavering unstably, as if molding a statue from smoke—forming, dispersing, forming, never quite complete.

Aged Sun.

Over at Jing Yuan's side, a similar thing also emerged.

Green light seeped simultaneously from his chest, shoulder, and temples, converging above his body, rotating slowly, emitting a muffled hum.

At this point, Xue Yi's hands had already risen.

In her left hand she held the Demon‑Breaking Cone, tip pointing outward; in her right hand the Soul‑Binding Iron Chain, the Lock chain loosened halfway and hanging on the floor.

Her stance shifted from "relaxed" to "combat ready", knees slightly bent, weight lowered, shoulders opened, her scarlet eyes locked onto the two forming ghost fires ahead.

The two Aged Suns wavered in the air, as if just waking from anesthesia and still disoriented.

At that moment, they both noticed Xue Yi!

The green light surged abruptly in a Shana, the two vague faces splitting simultaneously, two pairs of fang‑filled huge mouths lunging toward Xue Yi.

Yet Xue Yi's expression was unafraid, she charged straight ahead.

The iron chain shot out first, pulling upward at an angle; the Lock chain traced a golden line in the air, striking dead center of the ghost fire on the left.

The Aged Sun let out a shrill screech, was pulled backward, flipping several times; the green light scattered across the ground, re‑coalescing after two seconds.

The Demon‑Breaking Cone followed instantly; using the recoil from the iron chain, Xue Yi spun, thrusting the right‑hand cone tip from below into the core of the right‑hand Aged Sun; the cyan‑blue runes on the cone flared the instant they met the green light, emitting a sizzling, scorching sound.

That ghost fire writhed wildly, its illusory limbs flailing at the air, finally snapping free from the cone tip, retreating to the opposite side of the corridor, its whole form shrinking dramatically.

The two Aged Suns re‑merged at opposite ends of the corridor, their hollow eye sockets aimed at Xue Yi.

Their humming grew louder, like an angry screech.

Xue Yi stood in the center, the Lock chain slowly coiling on her right side, the Demon‑Breaking Cone emitting a cold glow at her left fingertip.

She stared expressionlessly at the two balls of ghost fire, her eyelashes not a hair's breadth moving, her lips pressed into a thin pale‑pink line.

Beneath this cold silence, deep within her crimson pupils, a cluster of the same dim green light flickered slowly, flashing once.

Perspective shift.

The air of the Scale Abyss Realm was soaked with a fresh, moist vapor, chilling the lungs with a faint coolness.

Dan Heng planted his feet, the butt of his Cloud‑Striking Spear pressed against the damp stone slab, the tip pointing upward, emitting the cold iron's unique glint within the hazy pale‑blue aura.

His breath had not fully settled, his chest rising and falling, a few strands of hair at his temples clinging to his skin with sweat, his eyes fixed on the fork ahead.

He lost the trail.

Those two figures—the white Fox Ears girl and the one whose hem billowed like crow wings—were less than twenty steps ahead a moment ago, but vanished after the turn.

He stopped at the fork, glanced left and right; both paths were empty, only the emerald glow‑stone set into the stone wall blinking silently.

Something's wrong!

He knew his own pace, and he was even more aware of the Chi Ming Tribe's speed advantage in watery environments.

When he caught up, those two had clearly slowed, their steps even stumbling, yet at that very corner—one that could never possibly hide anyone—both vanished simultaneously, as if swallowed by the stone.