Chapter Seventeen: Spatial Domain Gate (Part One)

Bang!

The False Prophet’s leg, hard as steel, crashed into Guan Qian’s abdomen, sending him hurtling into the mud with a powerful jolt.

“My dear Prophet, don’t get distracted, or this will be far too boring!” sneered the False Prophet.

“Hmph! I hope you don’t disappoint me!” Guan Qian rolled out of the mud and sprang to his feet. He needed to end this quickly and reach Tang Ruyan as soon as possible.

“As you wish, then.” The False Prophet’s face was cold and calm as water as he spoke.

The sound of rapid footsteps echoed as the two faced off, their pale pupils flashing with white light. They launched into close combat atop the soggy, drunken earth, the air between them instantly thick with the scent of gunpowder.

They fought from one spot to the next, and then to yet another, their movements so swift that they left afterimages everywhere, making it hard to follow their true positions.

This was a contest of speed and strength! No one would doubt that such a fierce clash would render the outcome between the two shrouded in uncertainty—far surpassing the excitement of any Hollywood action blockbuster.

Yet beneath this display of thrilling prowess, a deadly intent simmered.

“Damn! This bastard’s even harder to beat than a cockroach!” Guan Qian was getting desperate. The False Prophet’s strength matched his own, and trying to suppress him now was pure fantasy.

Tang Ruyan’s peril only made him more anxious. He had to shake off the False Prophet’s pursuit.

“Heh, what’s wrong, my dear Prophet? You seem awfully flustered,” the False Prophet mocked, dodging one of Guan Qian’s punches.

In response, Guan Qian’s attacks only grew fiercer. The blows rained down like cannon fire, relentless and overwhelming. The False Prophet was forced onto the defensive, barely able to block, clearly at a disadvantage.

Seizing the opportunity, Guan Qian landed a kick that sent his opponent flying.

And in that instant, Guan Qian vanished from sight.

Teleportation.

This was one of the skills accessible in his pale-eyed state—a technique Guan Qian had discovered in the heat of battle. By moving at supersonic speeds, he could cover short distances in a blink, and there was no limit to how many times he could do it.

He traversed the battlefield with explosive speed, every step vanishing into thin air as if he were walking on the edge of time itself.

The False Prophet, in the moment he was kicked away, realized Guan Qian was escaping. Yet Guan Qian had already teleported several kilometers away—or perhaps even further—leaving the False Prophet seething with a hidden fury.

“Heh... Let’s see how far you can run.” With a sinister grin, the False Prophet vanished into the mire as well.

Teleportation.

The chase was on.

The downpour continued as Guan Qian raced back like a phantom. Tang Ruyan’s sudden predicament gnawed at his heart—what had happened? Guan Qian was frantic with worry.

But—

When Guan Qian finally reached Tang Ruyan, he saw a figure in white collapsed on the ground.

Her jet-black hair veiled her pale face, and a trickle of blood glistened at the corner of her mouth. Against her ashen complexion, the crimson stain made her look even more frail and haggard.

“Tang Ruyan!”

He shouted, instantly appearing at her side. Kneeling, he gathered her limp, delicate body in his arms, calling out to this silent, cold woman.

No matter how he called, Tang Ruyan remained deeply unconscious. Her breaths were shallow and intermittent, her body icy, her life flickering like a candle about to be snuffed out.

Guan Qian frowned, his gaze falling on the dark pit before him, a wave of dread rising within. In the depths of that abyss, two faint golden characters shimmered, spelling out “Domain Gate.”

What did this mean? Had Tang Ruyan attempted a new divination, only to collapse when something went wrong?

He fell silent, staring at Tang Ruyan, whose life hung by a thread. Even a Prophet’s power could not rescue someone so close to death. Her survival would depend on her own will to fight against death. For this enigmatic woman, Guan Qian could only sigh. Though he wanted to save her with all his strength, there was nothing more he could do.

“Domain Gate? Domain Gate?” he muttered, his pale eyes locked on Tang Ruyan’s wan face, his frown deepening.

“Could it be—”

He suddenly looked up at the stormy night sky, where a white vortex spun with a blinding light, like a giant silver moon suspended overhead.

“Is this what you’re trying to tell me?” Guan Qian’s low voice seemed to be directed at Tang Ruyan, or perhaps to himself.

“Heh, that’s right!” The False Prophet emerged from the darkness, his wicked smile and eerie white eyes sending a chill through the air.

“You—” Guan Qian had been so focused on Tang Ruyan and the glowing words that he had let his guard down.

“My dear Prophet, don’t tell me you rushed back just for this woman?” The False Prophet eyed him with an expression full of hidden meaning.

Without a word, Guan Qian instantly flashed to Tang Ruyan’s side, his eyes wary as he faced the man less than two meters away.

“Heh, she seems like a very special girl. Why so nervous? I’m not going to eat her,” the False Prophet said, stroking his smooth chin.

“Our battle should not harm the innocent!” Guan Qian shielded the unconscious Tang Ruyan, his voice resolute.

“Innocent? My dear Prophet, I haven’t done anything yet,” the False Prophet answered, feigning innocence, though his eyes glinted with cunning.

“Then let’s take this elsewhere. Leave her out of it!” Guan Qian demanded, afraid his foe would harm Tang Ruyan.

“My dear Prophet, this woman’s barely clinging to life. If I don’t act, she’ll be beyond saving,” the False Prophet said, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips.

“You—!” Guan Qian’s face turned icy cold. The False Prophet was clearly threatening him with Tang Ruyan’s life.

“My dear Prophet, don’t look at me like that. I assure you, I’m really quite kind,” the False Prophet’s face softened into a mask of benevolence.

“If you’re a man, face me one-on-one!” Guan Qian shot to his feet. Trusting a word from this man would be more foolish than smashing his own head in.

“Heh, but my dear Prophet, I’ve suddenly decided not to kill you after all.”

“You—” Guan Qian was at his breaking point.

“My dear Prophet, why so angry? I’m helping you, you know,” the False Prophet said, feigning hurt.

“What do you really want?!” Guan Qian jabbed a finger at the False Prophet’s nose, furious.

“Heh, an interesting woman. It seems she’s tasted the Prophet’s blood—and now there’s something in her even I can’t see through,” the False Prophet replied cryptically, gazing at Tang Ruyan’s pale face, half to Guan Qian, half to himself.

Guan Qian’s brows drew together.

What trick was the False Prophet playing? Prophet’s blood? Did he just say Tang Ruyan had drunk the Prophet’s blood?

Guan Qian looked at the unconscious woman in his arms, a vague suspicion rising within.

“My dear Prophet, it seems you didn’t know. The blood of a Prophet can heal—even bring the dying back from the brink!” the False Prophet continued, the implication clear.

“What?!” Guan Qian was caught off guard, torn between hope and anxiety.

Just what was the False Prophet? This mysterious man had appeared out of nowhere, possessing all the powers of a Prophet—perhaps knowing even more than Guan Qian himself.

“Heh, then, my dear Prophet, I’ll be waiting for you at the Domain Gate. I think, when she wakes, she’ll have much to tell you.” The False Prophet’s tone was gentlemanly.

But as he turned to leave, he tossed something toward Guan Qian. “I think you’ll recognize this. I hope you show up soon—the game is getting more interesting, heh.”

With a sinister laugh, the False Prophet vanished. Guan Qian stared down at what he’d caught—a military night-vision scope!

It was the very scope he had borrowed from Jiang Qiang during the Saint Virtue Palace theft. He’d returned it to her himself—had the False Prophet captured Jiang Qiang?

“Damn it!” Guan Qian clenched the scope, glaring after the vanished figure, his face grim and uncertain.

...

The storm had passed, and the night sky was clear and deep.

Tang Ruyan groaned, her heavy eyelids fluttering open.

“You’re awake!” Guan Qian sat at her bedside, watching quietly as she returned from the edge of death. His right index finger was wrapped in a conspicuous white bandage.

The False Prophet had been right—the blood of a Prophet could indeed save a life. But Guan Qian hadn’t expected it would take so much.

Nearly five hundred milliliters—well over the national donation standard of four hundred—had been drawn. Guan Qian couldn’t help but feel a pang of pain over the loss.

Fortunately, he was strong and healthy, suffering little more than weakness. Otherwise, he would have demanded a hefty repayment from this woman.

“Prophet...” Tang Ruyan’s mind was still drifting in the images of her divination, mumbling as she rubbed her brow. But when she realized she was lying safely in bed, her eyes widened in surprise.

When she saw Guan Qian sitting beside her, understanding dawned instantly.

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, tinged with shyness as she lowered her head, the bandaged finger already catching her eye.

“All right, since you’re out of danger, I need to ask—what happened? Why did you collapse after I left, and why were your injuries so severe?” Guan Qian pressed urgently. He needed to know what Tang Ruyan had learned.

But her answer only made Guan Qian’s frown deepen.

(Sweat—just heard the wrong chapter was uploaded, apologies, apologies, a slip-up from the Moon Palace.)