The three individuals that approach, and fly on their swords up to a distance of one hundred steps, are mostly in the Nascent Soul cultivation realm — having just stepped into it — except one of the three, who is at the peak of Core Formation.

They wear dark cloaks and plain clothes underneath that bear no markings that could identify their origins. Other than the make of their clothes, I also notice traces of battle damage and the lingering residual qi belonging to demonic beasts native to this region.

I conclude that they are poachers, exploiting the forbidden lands of a large sect in secret, or perhaps hunting one demonic beast in particular.

This latter theory seems even more plausible considering how their eyes glimmer with excitement when they stare at the fallen bird behind Lan Xiaohui. If my owner were not present, I imagine they would already be chopping up the bird for its valuable materials.

“We are merely travelers of generous and merciful disposition, little sister,” the figure in the center says, hopping off his sword and landing among his two companions — a male and a female. “We observed your battle from a distance and were so impressed by your skill that we decided to offer to carry your prize for you.”

Hearing those words, Lan Xiaohui lowers her head and chuckles darkly. Naturally, she understands what the person truly means by offering his “help”.

Despite her best attempts to stand tall and look invincible, it is quite obvious that Lan Xiaohui is hurt and exhausted. Her left arm hangs uselessly to her side, and her remaining usable manipulator is still being bathed in her blood, which she is unable to completely stop.

Slowly, Lan Xiaohui draws in another breath, operating her [Empty Moon Prana] and the vital energies of nature it gives her access to. This is not something that goes unnoticed by the trio. Her lack of conversation, other than the first question she posed, makes her into an unapproachable wall with no weaknesses.

Frustration and impatience grow in the trio, and they approach closer. Seventy steps now.

“Little sister, are you not in the mood for dialogue?” the female in the group asks, smiling darkly.

Sixty steps.

“This Qianyan Kongju behind you is a mythical beast thought to have been killed in the last Great Demon Suppression over two hundred years ago. You should be grateful that we will let you live, and only want the demonic beast,” the cultivator in the peak of Core Formation says, but his tone casts doubt on their intent to let my owner leave.

In fact, just as the male is finished speaking, the leader quietly whispers to his companions. “Don’t worry, she is exhausted and with one foot already in the grave. When you have the chance, kill her without mercy.”

Lan Xiaohui, who doesn’t hear this command, draws in another breath as the trio approaches. “Many of my ancestors were killed by Qianyan Kongju,” she says, wrapping her fingers around my hilt and pulling me out of the ground. “They were part of the suppression force. Two hundred years ago, Qianyan Kongju was exterminated. That is an undeniable fact.”

I didn’t know that Lan Xiaohui had such a relationship with the bird behind her. Qianyan Kongju must have been named so by the denizens of the continent at the time, and if Lan Xiaohui’s words are true, then the bird behind her must be a descendant of the mythical beast that terrorized the continent back then.

Seeing Lan Xiaohui wield her weapon the trio stops, fifty steps away, and considers her carefully.

“Little sister, what do you think you are doing?” the leader asks, his mocking sneer growing in intensity. “Are you planning to fight us? How? No one will come to your help out here, so what will you do? You don’t have the heart to kill one demonic beast; do you really think you can kill a random stranger?”

The environment flickers by under Lan Xiaohui’s Vanishing Steps, and the Core Formation cultivator on the left flank barely has enough time to make an expression of mixed awe, terror, and surprise when Lan Xiaohui, just like that, appears right in front of him.

Effortlessly, my blade slides through his skin, meat, and bones, carving through his throat and collar bones, bathing in the luxury of a living cultivator’s blood after such a long, long time.

My sentient core bubbles with ravenous elation at the taste of a life evaporating and I am not certain if this is because of its refined palate — tired of consuming demonic beast blood and flesh — or because it is developing a taste for extermination.

Before anyone can react, Lan Xiaohui’s thrust pins the male cultivator to the ground with a powerful slam, and, at this moment, my owner’s victim is still alive but the wound is fatal. In the very next moment, however, Lan Xiaohui carves my blade down across the man’s chest and into his stomach — severing his lungs and heart — and then back up and out through his head, causing an eruption of blood that sprays a burst of crimson twenty steps ahead of Lan Xiaohui, and all over her clothes.

It is a merciless and swift execution.

Whether my owner has the heart to kill a demonic beast is still under question, but when it comes to “random strangers”, her heart does not even register the event.

She is exhausted to the point that her arm trembles as she stabs me once more into the chest of the dead cultivator and for that brief moment I sense a flicker of adoration in her heart.

“You dare, junior!?” the remaining two cultivators shout — both in the Nascent Soul cultivation realm — but still they jump back to gain distance from someone who is merely in the Core Formation stage.

“Go ahead, Yaoyue,” she whispers. “There is no need to hold back out here.”

I give up on trying to understand my owner’s motivations and reasons when she speaks those words. Her willingness to kill others — but not a demonic beast — and that flicker of adoration and goodwill at the prospect of feeding me are indicative that my owner’s personality and morality have both become extremely warped.

I approve of this.

I release my conscious hold on my [Avarice] and [Tyranny] as my core opens up, in a spiritual sense, and draws in the remains of the dead cultivator. Even as the rain of blood falls all around us, his body disperses into tendrils of black smoke that all disappear into the black jade at the core of my vessel.

“You dare launch a sneak attack on your seniors!? You are looking for death!” the leader of the remaining two shouts, angrily, and a scroll unrolls from his sleeve, flashes with golden inscriptions, and then transforms into a spear. His companion, the female, extends her hand out to her side, and a slender green sword appears in her grip.

Lan Xiaohui, once more, lowers her head and chuckles. “Hiding in the bushes, waiting for me to be wounded and exhausted, and then even counting on my personality to be unable to retaliate,” Lan Xiaohui says. “You still have the nerve to accuse me of being impolite?”

The leader laughs loudly — a bit too loudly and forcefully — as his eyes carefully observe Lan Xiaohui, seeking weaknesses among the many obvious ones in her physical form. This time, it is clear that he does not wish to be deceived by Lan Xiaohui’s apparent state, unaware that there is no trickery here on Lan Xiaohui’s part.

However, how many times has Lan Xiaohui been in this state, across the many hundreds of simulations she endured, not to mention the hellish events of her captivity in Eternal Red’s prison, where she crawled back from the brink of death many times, and even crossed over the line dividing life and death once?

“Master, that sword is not ordinary,” the girl whispers. “There is something strange about it.”

The leader glances at his companion and nods slowly. “Go and notify the others,” he whispers, even though Lan Xiaohui is more than capable of hearing him at this distance. “There may yet be a windfall, after all.”

Lan Xiaohui tilts her head and stabs my vessel into the ground, in the place where the body of the male cultivator used to be.

“No one will come to your help out here,” Lan Xiaohui says, repeating the earlier statement word for word.

She presses her index finger into the pommel of my hilt and takes another deep breath.

“First Form: Void Boundary,” Lan Xiaohui utters the words, and the dark, colorless domain expands once more from its shrunken state from the earlier battle. All those gasps for breath that Lan Xiaohui has been taking, ignoring even the management of her wounds, have been for this: re-activating her sword domain of no escape.

Seeing the expanding field of colorless darkness, and perhaps even sensing the strange warping and curvature of space, the two remaining cultivators become even more alarmed.

“Sword Law…” the female cultivator whispers. “How…?”

“Calm down,” the leader quietly says. “It’s just a Core Formation brat. If we attack together, she will die a miserable death.”