Chapter 67: Yin-Yang Venomgulf
The situation was grim, and Lordi Payne was a liability—worse than useless. A deadweight anchoring Oen Shinae. More than once, this Mid Phase Foundation cultivator could have fought her way free alone. But hauling this junior brother along kept yanking her back into the endless fray.
If this keeps up... neither of us will make it out alive.
Lordi Payne's face darkened like cold ash. "Senior Sister Oen," he blurted, voice tight, "just go! Leave me!"
Lordi Payne's fingers twitched toward the escape Dao Fulu Kinson Wexford had given him. In the Abyss Pit Sect—a den of demons where betrayal was as common as breath—Oen Shinae's stubborn protection was nothing short of madness. Righteous. Reckless.
But if things grew worse? If she, too, was pushed to the brink? She'd have no choice but to abandon him—or worse, use him as bait. Better to cut the comrade cord now... than let it end in bloody embarrassment.
However, unlike what Lordi Payne estimated, after hearing this, Oen Shinae intended not to take advantage of his words and flee away alone, instead she grabbed Lordi Payne's wrist with her palm and yanked him close to her side.
"I, Oen Shinae, always keep my word!" Her voice was sharp as a winter gale, her delicate teenager features hardening into something far older. The air around her seemed to chill as she spoke, each syllable deliberate, unyielding. "I swore to the Bloodline Lord that I would see you claim the Ice Pith Fire. And as long as I draw breath, that oath stands."
SLASH!
Endless vines surged—just in that split-second distraction, a serpentine tendril shot toward Oen Shinae's throat. She twisted, avoiding a fatal strike, but not fast enough. A jagged gash split open her right shoulder.
She didn't flinch. Didn't even glance at the wound.
Instead, her grip on Lordi Payne tightened, and with her free hand—she seized one of the massive chains binding the giant black coffin behind her. With a fierce swing—