The Heroine Must Die

Her hands trembled. Then suddenly—

A hand pressed down on her shoulder. She spun around. “Edmund?!” Her voice dropped to a panicked whisper. “Why the hell did you come out? If they see you—”

He smiled faintly. Calm. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Lauren grabbed his sleeve. “What? No. We’ve sacrificed so much for—”

She never finished. Edmund shoved her away and shot into the sky.

A colossal black dragon exploded into existence above them. Its length was immeasurable, body coiling through the heavens, blotting out the sun itself. Compared to it, the humans below were no bigger than specks of dust.

A collective gasp swept through the battlefield. A dragon? An ancient dragon?

It was magnificent. Terrifying. Awe-inspiring. Only Lauren knew the truth. It was a bluff. All skin. No bones.

The dragon’s enormous head dipped, shadow swallowing the battlefield. Its long jaws opened—

ROAR.

The sound tore through heaven and earth. It was like a hurricane born from ten thousand years of suppressed rage. The very air twisted. The two men below felt their flesh distort under the pressure. The black net shattered and scattered like ash in a storm.

The thinner swordsman had his outer robe ripped clean off his body. They didn’t notice Gerald collapsing free.

They were frozen in raw panic.

An ancient dragon had appeared. They threw out every defensive technique they had, desperately resisting the dragon’s roar.

Inside the fading storm of sound, Gerald coughed up mouthfuls of blood. Ignoring dignity, ignoring pride, ignoring the fact that he was Sect Leader—

He scrambled back into the Mountain Protection Array like a wounded animal.

“Master!”

“Sect Leader, quick—take this pill!”

Above— The dragon faltered. Its massive body began shrinking at an alarming speed. The roar cut off abruptly.

Then it fell. Like a broken puppet.

Everyone stared, stunned, as the enormous dragon plummeted from the sky and slammed into the earth with a heavy thud.

Silence. The two men slowly lowered their sleeves. The oppressive, ancient aura was gone. They exchanged bewildered looks.

Even a weakened camel is bigger than a horse… they thought. Still, they didn’t rush forward immediately.

Lauren’s heart nearly stopped. “Briar—now!”

The ground exploded. Briar burst upward in a frenzy of branches and vines, scooped up Edmund’s collapsing form, and shot away at full speed.

“Fuck!” one of the men roared as realization hit. “He’s all show—no substance! Nothing but skin and bones!”

“Grab him!”

Briar’s branches whipped wildly through the air, snapping and breaking as sword light chased after it.

Somehow—by sheer luck—it made it back to Lauren.

“Huh? There’s another one here.”

“The Demon Dragon’s with that woman! Forget the tree spirit!”

Lauren didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Edmund, turned, and ran straight for the barrier.

Even knowing it wouldn’t do shit—even knowing it wouldn’t kill them—she hurled an Explosive Spirit Talisman behind her anyway.

Boom!

The blast bought her barely a second. But a second was enough.

Inside the formation, Logan and Jade were already watching.

The instant Lauren reached the Mountain Protection Array, they tore open a narrow slit.

She dove through. The formation snapped shut behind her.

“Damn it!” one of the men snarled. “We were this close!”

They turned. The tree spirit was gone. Vanished without a trace.

Just as the battlefield seemed on the verge of collapse, another disturbance tore through the sky.

The enormous mouth above opened again. Someone stepped out.

It was a woman—middle-aged in appearance, cold-eyed, dressed in flowing robes and holding a long white whisk.

The crowd below went pale. The two men immediately withdrew and bowed respectfully.

“Temple Master. Why have you come down personally?”

Her gaze swept over them like frost. “A bunch of useless trash,” she said flatly. “So many of you, and you can’t even deal with a nest of ants?”

The two exchanged uneasy glances but didn’t dare argue.

She looked terrifyingly powerful. But from what they’d said earlier, it seemed no more reinforcements were coming.

Everyone they’d arranged to descend had already done so. Sending more from above wouldn’t be quick—given the massive time difference between realms, it would take at least ten days, maybe half a month.

But this woman alone was more than enough.

“Where is the Demon Dragon?” she asked coldly.

One of the men pointed downward. “On that girl.”

“Oh?” Her eyes locked onto Lauren. Her gaze sharpened instantly. “Immortal Roots… a chosen one?”

Lauren’s heart jolted.

Her master had once told her that even in disguise, no peak Mahayana cultivator should be able to see through her foundation.

This woman had just descended. The world’s laws had suppressed her to the peak of Mahayana— And yet she saw through Lauren at a glance.

“A rare talent,” the Temple Master said coolly. “But unfortunate. You were born in the wrong place.”

Her whisk shifted slightly. “Hand over the Demon Dragon. I value talent. I’ll spare your life.”

Lauren let out a cold laugh. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

The Temple Master’s expression darkened. “You’re not afraid of death?”

“Better to die standing than live kneeling,” Lauren shot back. “If I fall here today, a stronger chosen one will rise. Someone will free the dragon. And when that day comes, he’ll tear you apart and avenge me.”

Her voice carried across the battlefield.

Gerald, blood still staining his robes, burst out laughing. “Well said!” he roared. “Even if we die today, we will never bow to you, old witch! When the dragon escapes, he’ll grind you to dust!”

“Very well.” The Temple Master’s smile turned icy. “Then I’ll grant your wish.”

She flicked her whisk. White threads burst outward like a tidal wave, sweeping across the sky. They wrapped around the Mountain Protection Array, tightening like a noose.

With a sharp tug— The entire formation groaned. Cracks spread violently. It was on the verge of collapse.

Gerald lifted his greatsword again and stepped forward, blocking the path of the Divine Sword Sect.

“Quinlan,” he said without turning, “listen to me. Take your disciples and leave.”

“The Sect Leader sent us to reinforce you.”

“I’ve seen your sincerity. That’s enough. There’s no need for pointless sacrifice.”

He barked, “Cornelius, take them to the forbidden grounds.”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

“Quinlan. Xavi. Yates.” His voice softened slightly. “Go.”

Gerald’s eyes ignited with golden light as he faced the figures in the sky. “Three thousand disciples!” he roared. “The enemy is an immortal from the Upper Realm. Are you afraid?”

A thunderous reply shook the mountain. “Hah! It’s not the first Upper Realm immortal we’ve killed!”

“We’re not afraid!”

“Nothing to fear!”

Gerald grinned fiercely. “Good. Follow me.” He surged forward, sword raised.

Above, the Temple Master chanted, controlling the whisk as it constricted the formation tighter and tighter.

The two men intercepted Gerald, preventing him from interfering.

His sword fell like a collapsing mountain. The ground shook violently.

They caught the strike—but their expressions shifted. They split left and right in perfect coordination, forming a pincer.

Gerald’s eyes flashed. Treasures—ones he rarely used—began flying from his sleeves.

He hurled them like bombs. Spirit Treasures. Even Innate Spiritual Treasures. Each one detonated in a violent explosion of spiritual power.

After nearly ten self-detonations, the tide began to shift. Gerald’s face twisted with pain.

“Damn it…” he muttered hoarsely, tossing out another artifact.

This time he was bleeding money—bleeding legacy. If he didn’t kill those two bastards today, neither he nor his destroyed treasures would rest in peace.

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