The air vibrated with the frantic rhythm of their footsteps.
"We have to move, Yue'er! Emperor Dark Wind and the Ice Empress are close," Ling Feng urged, his voice tight despite the forced calm.
He clutched the smaller hand of the girl beside him, pulling her through the sparse, craggy landscape.
Each breath they tore from the humid air felt like drawing knives into their lungs. Days of relentless flight had etched exhaustion onto their very souls.
"Big Brother Feng... I can't," Ling Yue gasped, her words a barely audible whisper.
Her usually vibrant face was ashen, a stark white against the dark smear of blood at the corner of her lips.
Her once pristine white martial robes were stained with crimson in jagged patches, testimony to recent, desperate skirmishes.
Ling Feng, barely older than his sister, was a Half-Saint in his own right, a figure of striking contrast with his vivid scarlet robes that seemed to defy the grim reality of their chase.
Ling Yue, despite her fragile state, also pulsed with the nascent power of a Half-Saint.
Yet, even their combined might was like a flickering candle against the storm of two true Saints—the very beings who hunted them.
Ling Feng, his dark, unruly hair framing a face etched with grim determination, glanced back at his sister.
Her delicate fingers trembled in his grasp, a stark reminder of her youthful innocence.
Unlike him, whose very presence seemed to exude a strange, almost demonic radiance, his hand instinctively hovering near the hilt of the sheathed blade at his hip, Ling Yue was still new to the brutality of their world.
She hadn't yet learned to harden her heart against the whispers of despair.
What cataclysmic event could drive two young, powerful cultivators like Ling Feng and Ling Yue to such desperate lengths?
The answer was a long, bloody tale, one that intertwined ancient prophecies, forbidden artifacts, and the relentless ambition of power-hungry cultivators.
Their pursuers, it seemed, weren't content with just capturing them; they desired their extinction, or at least, a fate worse than death.
Seeing the raw fear in Ling Yue's eyes, Ling Feng's heart clenched. He slowed his pace, pulling her closer.
"Yue'er, don't say that," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the tearing wind.
"Just a little further. Once we reach your master, the Heavenly Profound Great Saint, everything will be over. We'll be safe." A tranquil smile, a mask he wore for her sake, touched his lips.
Her beautiful, watery phoenix eyes, clouded with fatigue, squinted at him.
"Really?" she sobbed, a single tear tracing a clean path through the grime on her cheek.
Ling Feng nodded, firm and reassuring. A subtle shift occurred in Ling Yue. The frantic beat of her heart began to steady, the psychic torment of the past few days receding like an ebbing tide.
Her big brother's conviction was a beacon, a flickering light at the end of the darkest tunnel. Her master, the venerable Heavenly Profound Great Saint, represented salvation.
With that thought, a fragile warmth spread through her, and she nodded back, a silent promise to endure.
Wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, Ling Yue managed a weak, glistening smile that momentarily banished the pallor from her features.
Ling Feng felt a sliver of relief. Her renewed hope allowed him to refocus his own mind, sharpening his senses against the imminent danger from the Dark Wind Emperor and the Nether Ice Empress.
WHOOSH!
Ling Feng extended his hand, a ripple of spatial energy distorting the air around them.
In the next instant, their forms blurred, then vanished from their location, leaving no trace behind. Not a leaf stirred, not a stone displaced.
Moments later, the very fabric of the air shrieked. A brutal, crushing force descended, a wind so fierce it felt like the breath of a dragon, tearing at the very earth.
Yet, instead of the expected rain that often followed such tempests, frost crystals, sharp as obsidian shards, plummeted from the sky.
Snow fell, soft and silent, in defiance of the harsh summer sun that still blazed, unseen, beyond the roiling clouds.
The contrasting elements, furious wind and delicate snow, created a bizarre, beautiful, and terrifying scene.
"These two... seeking the Heavenly Profound Saint Emperor. How amusing." A voice, deep and resonant, rumbled through the storm-wracked air, seemingly emanating from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"I wonder what expressions they'll wear when they find the 'resting' old man, haha!" The voice carried a chilling undertone of malicious amusement, suggesting its owner had been a silent observer for far longer than Ling Feng and Ling Yue could have imagined.
RIP!
The sound of tearing silk echoed, but it was the void itself that shredded. A gaping, jagged circle of darkness appeared as if ripped from the fabric of reality, twisting and distorting the light around it.
PLOP!
Two figures descended from the newly formed rift, enveloped in an otherworldly golden light.
As their feet touched the ravaged earth, the light slowly receded, revealing two individuals of contrasting yet equally striking appearances.
At first glance, they seemed almost ordinary, devoid of the overwhelming aura one might expect from beings of immense power.
Yet, the moment they arrived, the storm itself seemed to hold its breath.
A profound silence descended, thick and absolute, a pressure so immense it felt as if time itself had paused.
This was not the brute force of a Half-Saint or even a Saint; this was the ethereal, undeniable weight of a Saint Emperor, a being who held dominion over life and death itself.
It was subtle, yes, but undeniably present—a chilling sense of mystery and an inherent, imperial temperament that marked them as beings far beyond mortal comprehension.
The man possessed a delicate, almost perfectly spherical face, framed by flowing earth-brown hair that cascaded over his shoulders.
He radiated the timeless grace of a youth in his prime, his gaze holding the dazzling intensity of distant stars.
Dressed in simple, casual blue robes, he exuded a holy aura that felt utterly alien to the mortal world. His form seemed both solid and fleeting, like a perpetual, swirling tornado.
Beside him, the woman was clad in robes of shimmering silver, her dark silver hair a stark contrast, fluttering like a banner in the supernatural wind.
Not a speck of dust dared to alight on her, repelled by an invisible force field that kept all things at a respectful distance.
Her gaze, cold and utterly indifferent, fixed on the direction Ling Feng and Ling Yue had taken. From her, an icy might emanated, so potent it seemed to freeze the very space around her in an instant.
There was no doubt. These were the two Half-Step Emperors Ling Feng had sensed, the formidable Dark Wind Emperor and the terrifying Ice Empress.
They had been here all along, observing, waiting. They could have struck at any moment, yet their presence had remained undetectable to the two Half-Saints.
"Xue Ying," ," the Dark Wind Emperor said, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, "What do you make of this, hmm?"
The Ice Empress, now identified as Xue Ying, regarded him with an unreadable expression.
"Feng Yin," she replied, her voice like the whisper of glaciers, "this Ling Feng is far from simple, though his sister does seem to be a liability. If the rumors hold true, then an unscathed return for us is far from guaranteed. If he truly possesses that divine weapon, and if he can activate it, then any Saint below the Monarch Realm would not only lose their lives, but their very souls." Her words were laced with a rare, profound weariness.
The Dark Wind Emperor, Feng Yin, fell into a moment of rare, deep thought.
"The Priest foresaw this event, long ago," he finally blurted out, a wide, predatory smile stretching across his face. "It truly seems a bloody slaughter is about to descend. It's best if we remain out of this for now. Let Tian Wei and the Five Elements Kings test its power first. It wouldn't be a bad thing to offer a few sacrificial lambs for the glory of the Dark Sovereign's mission, would it?" His laughter, cold and resonant, echoed through the swirling storm.