Chapter 109: Little Sword Sheath

After they made their decision, they no longer hid; the Demon Realm grew increasingly arrogant, or rather, after the Immortal-Demon War, its calm was merely gathering strength, waiting for the day it could battle the Cultivation Realm again.

Ling Xiao pulled Shi Ran onto the Dragon Chant Sword, watching the blood-colored clouds roil between the mountains; for the first time Ling Xiao felt a hint of tension and shouted, "Stay close! Be careful!"

Shi Ran nodded, then asked Ling Xiao a question he found hard to answer: "Master, why don't I have a sword? When will I get my own?"

Ling Xiao gave Shi Ran a deep look, then after a pause said, "If we make it out safe this time… I'll give you one!"

Shi Ran brightened, "The prettiest one?"

Ling Xiao nodded, "Bing Xi may not be the strongest sword I have, but it is certainly the most beautiful sword in the Cultivation Realm!"

A blood-colored vortex spun before them, demonic energy reaching out like tendrils. This is the Soul-devouring Miasma! Rather than let this miasma pollute the land, it would be better for them to charge through it straight into the Demon Realm!

Seeing the vortex about to swallow them, Ling Xiao couldn't help but warn again, "Stay close."

Shi Ran nodded, gripping Ling Xiao's hand tighter as he formed a one-handed seal; a golden light barrier enveloped them. She noticed the blood seeping again from the bandages on his arm, but dared not speak—now she had to stay out of the way, lest she become a burden.

The moment they stepped into the vortex, Shi Ran felt as if thrown into a boiling blood pool. Millions of shrill wails flooded her ears; countless gaunt hands reached from the void, trying to tear at her soul. She bit her tongue to stay conscious, then her wrist tightened—Ling Xiao's hand clamped on her like a branding iron, dragging her forcefully out of the torrent.

"Breathe."

Only then did Shi Ran feel her lungs burning with pain. She gasped, and the scene gradually cleared: a dark-purple sky hung with a blood moon, a road paved with white bones winding toward a distant castle, and the air drifted with ash-like motes of demonic energy.

Worse, these particles tried to pierce the golden light barrier; each one that seeped through made Ling Xiao's brow tighten a fraction more.

"Master, your wound…"

"It's fine," Ling Xiao cut her off, lifting a talisman with his sword tip. "The Soul-devouring Miasma is the Heart Demon's eye—from now on, don't stray more than three steps from me."

Shi Ran nodded, but froze as she lowered her head—dry bones on the ground rearranged into eight bloody characters: "Welcome home, Little Sword Sheath!"

The Dragon Chant Sword flashed from its sheath, sword qi shattering the bone characters. Ling Xiao's back was drawn taut like a fully drawn bow, yet Shi Ran keenly noticed a crack appearing on the pearl at the end of his sword tassel.

"She's read my memories," Ling Xiao's voice whispered, almost lost in the wind, "About you…"

Before his words finished, the earth suddenly collapsed. Shi Ran lost her footing; as she fell, she saw Ling Xiao leap down without hesitation. Countless memory fragments sliced past like blades—a girl in green smiling in illusion, Ling Xiao kneeling in a pool of blood, bewildered as he gazed at her, and…

"Wake up!"

A sting on her cheek made Shi Ran open her eyes to find herself lying in Ling Xiao's arms. His fingertips still tingled with the spiritual energy he'd used to slap her, though dread welled in his eyes. In the distance came the clang of metal; twelve bronze puppets dressed in immortal-sect robes advanced from all sides.

"They're the Heart-devouring Demon's watchdogs," Ling Xiao said, shielding her behind him as the Dragon Chant Sword rang clear and true. "Move within the range of my sword's shadow."

Shi Ran nodded; she wasn't completely useless. In her hand were the talismans Ling Xiao had given her, already inscribed—Thunder Summon, Fire Sigil, Invisibility Charm… everything one could need.

Seeing the tide turn against them, she flung a talisman; it always struck where they least expected, and the master-disciple duo worked in perfect sync—those puppets fell like paper cutouts.

When the third puppet hit the ground, she suddenly realized their faces—all were Ling Xiao's as a youth.

"Watch out!"

One puppet suddenly broke through the lines, its bony claw lunging for Shi Ran's heart. Ling Xiao couldn't block in time, so he threw his body in front of her. As the claw pierced his shoulder with a dull thud, Shi Ran saw the puppet's lips move, uttering in Ling Xiao's exact voice: "Ling Xiao, who are you…?"

Crimson sword light exploded, reducing the remaining puppets to dust. Ling Xiao half-knelt, black gas bubbling from the blood wound on his shoulder. Shi Ran tore open his collar, her hand trembling; the demonic energy eating at the wound's edges had already turned bluish-purple.

"The Clear Heart Pill isn't working…" her voice trembled as she pressed her palm to the cinnabar mark on her brow. "Master said this was a lifesaving charm drawn with your heart's blood…"

"No way!" Ling Xiao seized her wrist, gritting his teeth against the pain. Shi Ran seized the moment, dabbing her cinnabar‑stained fingertip onto his wound; golden‑red light flared, and the demonic energy screamed as it was forced out.

Ling Xiao's gaze shifted. When the last trace of black energy dissipated, he suddenly pulled Shi Ran close, their noses almost touching: "Do you know what the Heart's Blood Talisman signifies?"

Shi Ran swallowed. The ancient texts record that those who bind themselves with heart's blood share life and death.

A flute melody drifted suddenly from the castle direction, sweet as lovers' whispers. Ling Xiao's face shifted; the Dragon Chant Sword flew into his hand on its own: "Someone is activating the Heart‑devouring Demon's true form."

The castle at the road's end began to warp, bricks turning into writhing flesh. Shi Ran suddenly pressed her temples—the flute kept drifting, drifting, until she saw a girl who looked exactly like her, mindlessly gnawing a duck neck, chewing and sighing, yet unable to stop her mouth.

"Don't look." A warm hand covered her eyes; Ling Xiao's voice carried an exhaustion unlike any before: "The Heart‑devouring Demon is digging into your fears."

"That's not fear." Shi Ran lowered his hand, meeting those eyes that always hid secrets: "Is it memory, then? I feel… not quite like you all…"

The flesh‑and‑blood castle burst apart, a huge shadow soaring upward. The Heart‑devouring Demon's true form—a black mist covered in eyes—engulfed the blood moon, each pupil reflecting Ling Xiao's face.

"At last you've come, my young master," a chorus of voices overlapped, "If only your mother's companions had come with you back then, or if you hadn't been on the brink of death, you would have stayed with us…"

Ling Xiao's sword qi suddenly ran wild. Shi Ran was flung backward by the blast; looking up, she beheld the most terrifying sight of her life—the demon's mist seeping into Ling Xiao's seven apertures, yet he smiled, a blood pattern like the cinnabar mark blooming on his forehead.

"Master!"

The instant she lunged forward, the world froze. The Heart‑devouring Demon's mad laughter, the faint glow of the blood moon, even the drifting ash hung motionless in the air—only Ling Xiao's heartbeat grew louder, like a war drum beating pain into her chest.

"Is this… a Heartbeat Boundary?" Shi Ran suddenly recalled a passage from a forbidden tome: when a sword cultivator stands on the edge of demonic possession, the heart instinctively creates an absolute domain.

She fumbled to take Ling Xiao's hand, pressing her forehead to his chest. If her memory served, the book said exactly that—

"The sword is too sharp, it breaks easily," she whispered an incantation she couldn't recall where she'd heard, "Let me be your sword sheath."

The cinnabar mark suddenly flared hot. The frozen world began to crack; Shi Ran felt her consciousness being dragged into some abyss. In her final vision, she saw four‑year‑old Ling Xiao clutching a sword taller than himself, standing in the Demon Realm in tears, while his adult self, master, gently wiped the tear from her cheek with a blood‑stained finger.