Chapter Fifty-Five: Awakening

Page 1 of 3

Shuiyao Xian leaned weakly against the cold stone wall, her heart suspended halfway to the sky. She had nearly exhausted the last remnants of true energy in her body, barely managing to use her sect’s secret divination technique. In the hazy, indistinct omens, she saw that the one who could turn this perilous mission into a narrow escape had already arrived.

She knew it must be an elite special operations member sent by headquarters—perhaps even from that mysterious unit she’d only heard vague rumors about, never having met a single soul from their ranks. Warriors of such unparalleled caliber would have no trouble with ordinary special operations, but now…

Every time she thought of James Sam’s superhuman prowess, Shuiyao Xian felt chills deep in her bones, as if the icy stone behind her had seeped into her heart. Coupled with the subtle hints within his mad ramblings, she was almost certain: James Sam was far from a mere sniper. He must possess some mysterious power—otherwise, she wouldn’t have been rendered so utterly powerless.

Facing such a formidable opponent, what chance did their soldier truly have to prevail?

And what of the newcomer? Was he the owner of those eyes—the benefactor destined to help her restore the prestige of her sorcerous clan? Or… was he the man, foretold in Amu’s dying vision, who would be fatefully entangled with her for a lifetime, bound by love and resentment alike?

If it was him… would he win?

A violent surge of anxiety crashed through Shuiyao Xian’s chest, draining the last vestiges of color from her face. Blood welled at her lips.

As her anxiety grew unbearable, a thunderous roar echoed from beyond the statue, followed by a deafening explosion. The ground shook as a body slammed heavily into the statue, the force so immense that even the air in the stone chamber seemed to ripple.

“They’ve started?” Shuiyao Xian’s heart leapt. “Who will win?”

She struggled to stand, but her body refused to obey. Soon enough, though, she realized there was no need. The sounds from outside continued, and with a piercing, anguished scream from James Sam, Shuiyao Xian finally exhaled in relief. Even if her rescuer could not win, he was in no danger.

But what happened next was entirely beyond her expectations.

After that single, tormented cry, James Sam put up no further resistance. The relentless barrage of blows that followed was so swift and fierce it was impossible to distinguish where one strike ended and another began; each landed with brutal force. From then on, James Sam made not a sound.

Stunned, Shuiyao Xian’s faint breath grew ragged. She had imagined the newcomer might not be James Sam’s match. She had envisioned a titanic struggle, a battle of dragons and tigers. She had considered a thousand possibilities—except this: the fight was over almost before it began. No—it could scarcely be called a fight at all; it was utter, complete domination.

James Sam, whom she had deemed almost beyond human limits, had been utterly powerless from beginning to end, like a frenzied fly caught in the wind of a swatter, like an ant before an elephant, or a mongrel before a raging lion.

Page 2 of 3

Was this person even human—or something else entirely? A flush of unnatural color crept across Shuiyao Xian’s pallid cheeks—yet why, she wondered, did he have to be so coarse, his curses so crude?

In the midst of her fervent hopes, an inexplicable sense of disappointment crept in, but somewhere deep inside, she found a strange, exhilarating appeal in that vulgar outburst.

For a moment, a tangle of unspeakable, unfathomable emotions took root and grew in her heart.

“Son of a bitch!” With this furious shout, all fell quiet. Swift footsteps approached.

Shuiyao Xian longed to rise, but her injuries forbade even the slightest movement. Any exertion sent searing pain through her chest. In her agitation, the breath she’d been forcing herself to hold finally escaped her, and the world began to spin.

“Is it him?” Through the haze, she caught a glimpse of a figure racing toward her with leopard-like speed. That was the last thought she managed before losing consciousness. Yet, as darkness claimed her, those deep, lustrous eyes—like precious stones—appeared once more in her mind.

Fire—fire roared all around her, surging skyward from the bowels of the earth. The inferno’s tongues raged like wild beasts, or perhaps venomous serpents, coiling tightly about her, burning even her internal organs as if she were imprisoned in hell itself.

Ensnared by this relentless fire, Shuiyao Xian felt herself being scorched from within and without. She desperately wished to flee this ocean of flames, but her body was utterly spent, unable to move even a fraction. All she could do was endure the hellish conflagration inside and out. She could even feel her life force ebbing away, little by little. She wanted to cry out, but lacked the strength to open her mouth…

She had no idea how long this torment lasted. Just as the last vestige of her vitality seemed about to burn away, she glimpsed, through the haze, a towering door wreathed in the same unquenchable flames—yet radiating an infinite, bone-deep chill. The door creaked open, a violent wind pulling her toward it, and she could even hear the wailing of ghosts on the other side.

Suddenly, from somewhere unknown, a single drop of water—cool, yet suffused with warmth—fell quietly from the midst of the inferno.

Plop.

She could not fathom what composed this drop, but it seemed to ignore the raging flames, falling directly onto her—or perhaps into her. Instantly, she felt a thread of coolness amid the burning, as though that drop had pierced directly into her heart.

More wondrous still, that drop—no larger than a pearl—began spinning and swirling through her meridians, a tiny stream of crystal clarity. Wherever it flowed, the unbearable, skin-searing heat receded in its wake.

It seemed to last but an instant, or perhaps a century. Suddenly, Shuiyao Xian’s mind cleared, her consciousness returned, and with a faint gasp, she slowly opened her eyes.

“Am I still dreaming?”

Those deep, radiant eyes—dark as gemstones—filled her vision, making her wonder if she still lingered in a dream. They were the eyes she had come to know so well in just a few days—eyes that seemed familiar through countless lifetimes, though she had only just met them.

Page 3 of 3

Shuiyao Xian closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head with difficulty. Even such a simple, ordinary gesture drained almost all her strength, and the pain that flared from every part of her body told her this was no dream, but harsh reality.

She forced her eyes open again and saw those gemstone-like eyes once more—saw the worry, the reassurance, and… was it pity?—shining within them.

“How do you feel, any better?” Lost in the complexity of those eyes, she was startled when a gentle voice reached her.

It was a familiar voice—the same that, not long ago, had thundered at James Sam outside the chamber. Then it had been so forceful, so explosive—so crude. Yet now, from the same lips, the voice was clear and gentle.

“Are you alright?” Lei Dong, seeing her awake and aware, grew anxious when she didn’t answer. His voice rose in concern, rousing Shuiyao Xian from her strange reverie. She gave a faint “ah” of surprise, bewildered and a little ashamed by her own lapse, exhaled softly, and nodded ever so slightly. “I’m… fine…” Her voice was softer than ever, barely a whisper.

Fortunately, Lei Dong’s senses far surpassed those of ordinary people, and he caught her mosquito-like response, breathing a sigh of relief. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder: “Such a delicate, timid beauty—can she really be a famous agent?”

Could her injuries have worsened? Alarmed, Lei Dong reached out—one hand to her forehead, the other to her pulse.

Her skin was exquisitely smooth and cool to the touch. The fever had receded, and though her pulse was still faint, it no longer teetered on the brink of collapse as it had just minutes before. Instead, life was returning, the first signs of recovery stirring deep within.

“Whew…” Lei Dong let out a long breath. “Old Master’s secret pills really are something else!”

Just minutes earlier, when Lei Dong had burst into the chamber, he’d been shocked to find Shuiyao Xian collapsed on the ground, her face flushed an abnormal red, blood soaking her chest, her breathing so shallow it was almost undetectable. He’d immediately regretted losing his temper—knowing full well that Shuiyao Xian could be in mortal danger, why had he wasted time venting his rage on the already defeated James Sam, pummeling him like a mad dog?

For a moment, Lei Dong recalled a similar moment back at Hanqing University, when rescuing An Jing. He’d been rebuked by his father that very night for letting emotion override reason. In fact, his father’s hopes for him to become a perfect blend of wisdom, composure, and courage—a true soldier, not a reckless brawler—was one of the main reasons he’d joined the army.

He had thought that, after so many years of training, he could finally live up to that ideal. Yet, when the moment came, he found he still could not.