The scarred assassin struck first, his blade singing with earth-attributed profound energy that turned the air to gravel. Yun Che ducked under the strike and felt stone shards tear through his robes, slicing thin lines across his back. The second assassin came from his left, and the third from behind.

He had eight seconds of enhanced combat before his forcibly elevated cultivation collapsed. He used the first second to drive an energy blade through the scarred assassin's knee — not fatal, but the man wouldn't be walking for weeks. The second and third seconds went to creating distance, using the trees as cover against a technique that was already blowing them apart.

The fourth second was for the trick.

Yun Che had learned many things in the Profound Handle's dungeon. Resilience. Patience. How to sleep on a stone floor so cold it felt like ice. But the most valuable thing he'd learned was from the guard who'd mocked him on his first night: 'You were never the real genius, Prince. You were just the one with the best bloodline.'

He had dismissed it as spite. Now he realized it was the truth. His body, his meridians, his very soul — they were not extraordinary because he worked harder than anyone else. They were extraordinary because of his bloodline. The Evil God's heritage. The legacy that had been sleeping in his veins since birth, waiting to be awakened by the Sky Poison Pearl.

He channeled that bloodline now, and for one glorious second, his profound energy turned from blue to black — the color of the Evil God — and his power transcended the Spirit Profound Realm entirely.

The two remaining assassins felt it and froze. They had been trained to fight cultivators. They had not been trained to fight gods.

Yun Che used the final seconds to escape, melting into the forest, leaving his assassins alive but broken in body and spirit. He didn't kill them. He wanted them to report back. He wanted Xiao Wuji to know what was coming.