Chapter 997

Han Wuxian and Yan Xirou, after many twists and turns, finally managed to temporarily evade their pursuers.

But this certainly won't last; in the Nan Ting Mountain Region, the Profound Gate's power is overwhelmingly huge.

One could say that, after all, Yan Xirou and Han Wuxian acting together make a big target, and they are unwilling to slaughter or to borrow strength, so Profound Gate cultivators naturally have many ways to deal with them.

But now is not the time to talk about that.

Yan Xirou damaged three souls to save Han Wuxian; after days of fleeing she is utterly exhausted, and just as she relaxed she collapsed unconscious to the ground.

"Miss Yan, Miss Yan?!" Han Wuxian widened his eyes, hastily embraced Yan Xirou, his face full of worry.

"Clearly his injuries are improving, how... could his soul be damaged?" Han Wuxian assumed Yan Xirou had damaged her soul by unleashing a secret technique to let them escape, and now there was little he could do.

"All we can do is first settle Miss Yan, then think of a way to wake her."

Han Wuxian sighed; of course he could not possibly abandon Yan Xirou like that.

The rain in the Nan Ting Mountain Region comes suddenly and stops quickly. Han Wuxian carried the unconscious Yan Xirou on his back, trudging difficultly along the slippery mountain path. His clothes were already soaked through with rain and sweat, and with each step he could hear the gurgling of water pooled in his boots.

"Miss Yan, hold on a little longer..." Han Wuxian whispered, more to himself than to her. He lifted his gaze to the sky; dusk gathered, and distant mountain ranges appeared and faded in the post‑rain mist.

A faint tearing sound came from behind; Han Wuxian's heart tightened, and he swiftly darted into a rock crevice. Three Profound Gate cultivators flew past on their swords, their white Daoist robes snapping in the mountain wind.

"Strange, the tracking talisman clearly shows they are nearby." The leading middle‑aged cultivator frowned.

"Uncle Master, could that demoness have used some kind of illusion?" the younger disciple asked.

The middle‑aged cultivator snorted coldly: "That demoness has already damaged three souls to save that brat; she probably can't even stand steady now. Keep searching! They won't get far!"

The voices faded away, but Han Wuxian dared not relax in the slightest. Only after confirming the Profound Gate cultivators had truly left did he let out a long breath and carefully peek out.

Yan Xirou on his back was as light as a feather, her breath so faint it was barely perceptible. Han Wuxian gently adjusted his posture to let her rest more comfortably.

Using the last light of day, he saw a few raindrops on Yan Xirou's pallid face, her lashes casting tiny shadows on her eyelids.

"It's all my fault..." Han Wuxian's throat tightened as self‑reproach surged like a tide. If it weren't to save him, Yan Xirou would not have forced the forbidden technique, nor would she have ended up like this.

The mountain wind grew cold; Han Wuxian knew he must find shelter quickly. He focused his senses on the surrounding spiritual flow, and suddenly his eyes brightened—on a nearby cliff face, hidden by vines, there appeared to be an opening.

He pushed aside layer after layer of vines, revealing a small cave before his eyes. Han Wuxian cautiously inspected it, confirmed there was no danger, then gently laid Yan Xirou on the dry stone floor. He quickly set up a concealing seal at the mouth, then took out the Night Pearl he carried; its soft light instantly filled the cavern.

"Miss Yan?" Han Wuxian knelt beside her, calling softly. Receiving no response, he placed his hand on her pulse, his brows knitting tighter.

Her pulse was erratic, her soul unstable. What startled him further was that something foreign seemed to be gnawing at her already damaged soul inside her body.

"This is... a Soul‑locking Needle?" Han Wuxian sucked in a breath of cold air. The Profound Gate is so vicious, attacking them while secretly planting such a cruel means on Yan Xirou.

The Soul‑locking Needle is as fine as cow hair, invisible upon entry, targeting cultivators' souls specifically. At first the victim merely feels listless; over time the needle slowly devours the host's soul, eventually leaving an empty shell.

Han Wuxian's hands trembled slightly. No wonder Yan Xirou's condition wasn't improving but worsening; aside from the three souls damaged, this thing was at work.

"We must remove it as soon as possible..." Han Wuxian muttered, yet could not think of a safe method. The Soul‑locking Needle is extremely sensitive; a slight mishap would cause it to burst inside, inflicting worse harm.

Yan Xirou gave a soft cough, her brows knitting in pain. Han Wuxian quickly steadied her shoulders: "Miss Yan? Can you hear me?"

Yan Xirou's eyelids twitched a few times but remained closed. Her lips were dry and cracked, opening and closing slightly as if she wanted to speak.

Han Wuxian leaned in to listen, catching only a few fragmented words: "Go... don't mind me... danger..."

"Don't talk nonsense!" Han Wuxian's voice tightened. "How could I possibly abandon you?"

The Night Pearl's light illuminated Yan Xirou's paper‑white forehead, where fine beads of sweat appeared, showing she was enduring great pain. Han Wuxian felt as if his heart were being sliced, yet he could do nothing.

Suddenly he recalled an ancient art he had obtained during his travels—the Soul‑guiding Art.

This method uses the practitioner's own soul as a guide to draw out foreign objects from another's body. But the risk is extreme; a mistake could lightly damage the practitioner's soul or, worse, cause his soul to fly apart and scatter.

Han Wuxian clenched his teeth. There was no time to hesitate; Yan Xirou's condition was deteriorating rapidly.

He drew a deep breath, sat cross‑legged beside Yan Xirou, and formed intricate hand seals. As he chanted, he felt his own soul being drawn out thread by thread, turning into invisible filaments that probed into her body.

Instant pain swept through his body, as if countless steel needles were piercing his marrow simultaneously. Han Wuxian's forehead veins bulged, cold sweat poured like rain, yet he dared not slacken. His soul carefully searched within Yan Xirou and finally found the Soul‑locking Needle at a meridian junction.

The Soul‑locking Needle sensed the incoming foreign soul and struck like a venomous snake. Han Wuxian endured the agony, guiding his soul to contend with it. It was a silent struggle; a slip could wound both.

"Come out!" Han Wuxian snapped his eyes open and pulled his hands outward. A stream of black qi was wrenched from Yan Xirou's chest, twisting and struggling in the air.

Han Wuxian quickly took out a jade vial, sealed the black qi inside. Having done that, he could no longer hold himself up; he spat a mouthful of blood and collapsed limp to the ground.

Through blurred vision he saw Yan Xirou's breathing grow steady and a hint of color return to her face. Han Wuxian's lips twitched upward slightly, but his consciousness ebbed away like a tide.

In the final moment before darkness claimed him, he seemed to hear Yan Xirou calling his name...

But no matter what, at least Miss Yan is free of hidden danger; she should be all right.

Thinking thus, Han Wuxian slipped into a brief coma.