Xiao Lian landed hard, her knees hitting the rough ground as a wave of dizziness rushed over her. The teleportation had been instant, but the disorientation lingered. She forced herself to breathe, to steady her senses.
Then she looked up.
Her stomach clenched.
They were standing in the middle of a battlefield.
The sky was a deep, unnatural purple, swirling with thick, dark clouds that moved as if alive. The ground was cracked and scorched, littered with rusted weapons, broken banners, and scattered bones. The air smelled of burnt metal and something else—something old and decayed.
Xiao Lian slowly rose to her feet, scanning the surroundings.
Ji Ren stood a few feet away, bent over with one hand braced against his knee. He was still injured from his previous fight, his breath coming in heavy, uneven gasps. Qin Ziyan was silent, his gaze fixed on the battlefield, his grip on his sword too tight.
A terrible sense of familiarity crept over Xiao Lian. She knew this place. She had never stepped foot here before, but she knew it.
"This can't be…" Her voice was barely a whisper, her heart pounding.
Ji Ren turned his head toward her, wiping the sweat from his brow. "You recognize this?"
Xiao Lian swallowed, her throat dry. "Yes."
She pointed to a shattered statue in the distance, half-buried in the dirt. It was eroded by time, but she could still make out the emblem carved into its chest—a crimson feather.
"The Crimson Feather Sect," she said, her voice barely steady.
Ji Ren straightened, his expression shifting. Even Qin Ziyan's eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"This battlefield," Xiao Lian continued, her fingers curling into fists, "is where my sect was destroyed."
The words hung heavy in the air. Before anyone could respond, the ground trembled.
A deep, echoing voice filled the sky.
"Survive… or become one of them."
A chill crawled down Xiao Lian's spine. She turned in time to see movement in the distance.
Bones rattled. Swords dragged against the earth. Figures began rising from the ground, some pulling themselves up from the dirt, others assembling from the scattered remains. Their eyes glowed with a dull, eerie light, and though their bodies were broken and twisted, their weapons were still sharp.
Fallen warriors.
Mindless puppets, doomed to fight for eternity.
Ji Ren let out a long breath, raising his sword. "Of course, it had to be undead warriors. Why wouldn't it be?"
Xiao Lian didn't respond. She couldn't. Because in the distance, past the shifting figures, she saw something that made her chest tighten.
A red banner. Torn, faded, but still standing. The Crimson Feather Sect's last symbol of defiance.
She had only ever heard stories of what happened here. How her people had fought to the last breath. How they had been wiped from history, their deaths never avenged.
And now, she was standing in the middle of their graveyard.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. The undead warriors began to move. Then they charged.
Ji Ren was the first to react. Despite his injuries, he moved fast, blocking the strike of a skeletal swordsman before countering with a powerful blow that sent it crumbling to the ground.
Xiao Lian followed his lead, her body moving on instinct. Her blade flashed, cutting down an attacker, then another.
But they didn't stay down. The fallen warriors twisted and reassembled, their broken bones snapping back into place.
"They're not dying," Ji Ren growled, stepping back.
Xiao Lian gritted her teeth. "Because they're not alive."
The battlefield was endless, and so were the warriors. No matter how many times they cut them down, they just kept rising.
Qin Ziyan had barely moved. He fought, yes, but his strikes lacked force. His reactions were slow, hesitant. His mind was elsewhere. He could still hear the whisper.
"Let them die," the voice murmured, curling around his thoughts like smoke. "You are wasting your strength. Let the battlefield consume them."
His grip on his sword tightened. But then Xiao Lian's voice cut through the noise.
"We can't win like this! We need to move!"
She turned toward the red banner, her instincts screaming that it was important. Ji Ren followed without hesitation.
Ziyan hesitated. Then, finally, he moved. The three of them ran, cutting through the enemy ranks. The undead clawed at them, but Xiao Lian was focused on one thing, the banner, the one piece of her sect that still stood.
When they finally reached it, she skidded to a stop, her breath ragged. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the fabric.
The moment she did, the world shifted. The battlefield faded, replaced by a vision, a memory, replaying itself in front of her eyes.
She saw warriors dressed in crimson robes, fighting against an overwhelming force. Their faces were grim, their movements desperate. They were outnumbered, their enemies merciless.
She saw them fall. One by one. Until only a handful remained. Until their leader, an elder, wearing the same crimson robes she once wore, raised his blade, not in surrender, but in defiance. And then, the vision shattered. Xiao Lian gasped, staggering back. It was the past.
A past that was never written in history. And she was standing in the middle of it.
SIS's voice rang in her mind.
"Warning: You have triggered a memory fragment. This battlefield is not just an illusion—it is a prison."
Xiao Lian clenched her fists. "Then how do we break free?"
SIS paused.
Then, finally, the answer came.
"The only way to leave… is to end the battle."
Xiao Lian's blood ran cold. She looked out at the endless warriors. The fight that had never ended. A battle frozen in time, repeating itself for eternity. If they didn't stop it, they would become part of it.
She turned to Ji Ren and Ziyan. "We have to finish this fight."
Ji Ren nodded, his grip on his sword tightening. "Then let's end it."
But Ziyan…He hesitated. Again. The shadowy voice whispered once more, its tone gentle, coaxing.
"Or… you could let it consume them. Let this battlefield take them, and you will finally be free."
Ziyan closed his eyes, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turned white. Xiao Lian didn't notice. Because the final battle was about to begin. And whether Ziyan stood with them or not…The war was waiting.