The Heroine Must Die

Briar gently lowered him to the ground. Gerald, pale and drenched in sweat, forced a grin and gave the little plant a shaky thumbs-up. “Nice timing.”

The woman’s Nascent Soul had barely surfaced before Edmund swallowed it whole. Her body didn’t go to waste either—Briar absorbed it as nourishment without ceremony.

No one celebrated this time. They retreated into the formation immediately and began recovery.

Dorothy, who normally guarded her pills like they were her own children, flung open her storage pouch without hesitation.

“Use everything,” she ordered. “No holding back.”

Elixirs were distributed like candy. Healers rushed in. Gerald and the three thousand disciples were prioritized. Without them, the sect would be finished.

Lauren’s condition was better—she’d burned through talismans, not her core energy.

While Gerald meditated, Lauren did the math quietly. “Edmund said one day in heaven equals one year down here,” she murmured. “Roughly speaking, thirty seconds up there is half an hour for us.”

Gerald gave a faint nod without opening his eyes.

“Then we have a little breathing room.”

“From the first one to the second, it was about half an hour,” Lauren continued. “But they won’t keep moving that slowly.”

Gerald sighed. “What if several come down at once?”

Lauren shook her head. “Edmund said they can’t open the passage too wide. Too much celestial energy would leak out. From what we’ve seen, they can’t all descend together.”

Even so— The pressure was suffocating.

Logan stepped forward. “We’ve already sent urgent messages to the Calculation Sect, the Divine Sword Sect, and the Moonlit Sect. Reinforcements are on their way.”

“Good,” Lauren said.

Because Gerald alone couldn’t keep this up. Not in a drawn-out fight. And soon enough—

Another figure descended. The gap this time was shorter. Far shorter. This one was a young man.

Plain long robe. A sword strapped to his back, wrapped in worn cloth. No flashy aura. No overwhelming presence.

If someone saw him on the road, they’d assume he was a wandering swordsman.

Lauren narrowed her eyes. This was the most ordinary-looking cultivator she’d ever seen. Which made him infinitely more dangerous.

Unlike the previous two, his eyes held no arrogance. No contempt. Just calm. And people like that were the worst.

“They’ve already been killed by you?” His voice was steady. Almost gentle.

Gerald was still meditating. Even with pills, recovery in such a short window was impossible.

Lauren stepped forward. She had to stall. If Gerald wasn’t at full strength, fighting head-on was suicide.

“Even ants struggle to live,” she replied evenly. “If someone comes to kill us, we’re not going to lie down and wait.”

The man’s gaze settled on her. For the first time, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

Not even thirty. And already at Great Perfection of Spirit Severing.

Looking around, every other Spirit Severing cultivator present was over a century old. She was far ahead of her generation.

“Hand over the Demon Dragon,” he said calmly, “and I’ll spare your lives.”

Lauren laughed. A soft, almost mocking sound.

“Demon Dragon? There’s no Demon Dragon here. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and leave. Otherwise…” Her smile thinned. “You’ll end up like the last two.”

No anger touched his face. He simply reached over his shoulder.

Slowly. Carefully.

He drew the longsword from his back and began unwrapping the tattered cloth binding it. The moment the final strip fell away—

The blade was revealed. It gleamed with terrifying clarity.

A low hum filled the air.

It wasn’t loud. But it pierced straight through the skull like a needle. Disciples instinctively covered their ears, faces turning pale.

Logan glanced at Gerald, who was still seated in meditation, and his stomach dropped.

The swordsman lifted the blade. Then, without flourish—

He thrust it into the Mountain Protection Array.

Crack.

The once-solid barrier of light fractured instantly. Like glass under pressure.

Logan’s face went ashen. “Damn it,” he muttered hoarsely. “He’s a sword cultivator.”

The man slowly drew his longsword free. He didn’t attack again. He simply stood there in the sky, blade in hand, calmly observing the people below—as if waiting for them to finish struggling.

At that moment, Gerald opened his eyes. His face was grim.

“Sect Leader,” Logan asked quietly, “are you ready?”

Gerald rose to his feet, gripping the golden greatsword. “Almost.”

Then he looked up at the plain-robed swordsman and exhaled slowly. “But we have no chance of winning.”

“That man looks like an ordinary mortal—no aura, no visible cultivation. That means he’s already returned to simplicity. His understanding of the sword has long since reached unity. One with the blade.”

Gerald’s jaw tightened. “When someone like that strikes with full force, they can break all techniques with a single cut. Our Mountain Protection Array won’t survive it.”

Dorothy swallowed. “But his cultivation is still suppressed to Great Perfection of Mahayana by this world’s laws.”

Gerald gave a bitter smile. “Even at the same realm… the difference in strength can be heaven and earth.”

Above them, the swordsman finally spoke. “Still unwilling to hand over the Demon Dragon?”

His voice was calm. No threat. No impatience.

He was nothing like the previous two. Resisting him would be like smashing eggs against a cliff.

Gerald let out a cold snort and hoisted his golden greatsword onto his shoulder. “Three thousand disciples—heed my command!”

“Yes, Master!” Their voices rang out in unison.

“Wait.” Lauren grabbed his arm.

Gerald looked at her, surprisingly calm now. “Drake is about to succeed. Are we going to fail at the last moment?”

“But you can’t beat him,” Lauren said urgently. “If you keep resisting, you’ll all die.”

Gerald suddenly laughed. Wild. Proud. “So what?”

His eyes burned. “Then today, I, Gerald, will die here with my three thousand disciples—to pave the road to immortality for future generations!”

His voice thundered across the sect grounds. “Every cultivator who ascends in the future will remember this day! They’ll remember that Gerald of the Thunder Sect stood against the heavens!”

His grip tightened on the sword. “I, Gerald—and my three thousand disciples—will be remembered for eternity!”

His face was flushed with fanatic determination. He was ready to die.

Lauren’s chest tightened. She held him down hard and transmitted her voice to Edmund. “I can’t watch that sword cultivator wipe out the Thunder Sect. And I can’t watch them throw their lives away for nothing.”

A brief silence. “So,” Edmund replied evenly, “you’re going to hand me over?”

“No.” Her eyes hardened. “I’ll lure him away.”

Another pause. Then—

“Fine,” Edmund said. “We go together.”

Lauren glanced at Briar and the others. “You stay hidden. I have a way to get you out. Don’t show yourselves unless you absolutely have to.”

The swordsman still wasn’t in a hurry. When Lauren stepped forward again, he asked calmly, “Finished discussing?”

Lauren nodded. “We discussed it. We really can’t beat you, so…”

All eyes locked onto her. Gerald stared at her, confused. Lauren gave him a reassuring look—

Then turned and flew straight out of the barrier. A wave of gasps spread through the crowd.

“Lauren!”

“Miss Lauren!”

She didn’t look back. “Gerald,” she said lightly, “find someone quick-witted to take over my duties.” Gerald froze.

The swordsman regarded her quietly. “You dare come out. You have courage,” he said. “No wonder you stand above the rest.”

Lauren smirked. “I know I’m outstanding. I don’t need your praise.”

The swordsman went silent for a beat.

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