The moment Divya finished speaking, the air in the hall grew tense, thick with unspoken rage. The ghost cultivators' eyes sharpened, their hands tightening around the hilts of their swords.
Then-
Shing!
Blades were drawn, the cold gleam of metal reflecting the flickering lantern light.
Divya barely had time to register what was happening before one of them lunged.
Her body reacted before her mind could.
She dropped to the ground, feeling the air shift above her as a blade sliced through the space where her head had been.
Holy hell.
She scrambled back just in time to dodge another strike. Then another. And another.
It wasn't skill. No, she knew her limits. She was a boxer, a kickboxer-dodging fists was one thing, but swords? That was a whole different nightmare.
Yet, here she was, weaving through attacks like a seasoned warrior. This body...
Something wasn't right.
Pangpang was supposed to be a fool. A weakling. A disposable pawn.
Then how was she dodging attacks that should have killed her ten times over?
Could it be muscle memory? No-this was beyond that. It was as if Pangpang's body had a mind of its own, reacting before she could think.
And then-
Shing!
A sword came straight for her hand.
Her eyes widened. She was too slow-
CRACK!
The blade snapped in half the moment it touched her.
Time seemed to freeze.
Divya barely had a second to process what had just happened before-
BOOM!
A shockwave exploded from her wrist, sending a violent pulse of energy through the hall.
The cultivators didn't even have time to scream.
One by one, they were lifted off their feet, their bodies thrown into walls, pillars, and each other. The force sent furniture crashing, dust rising into the air as the entire room trembled from the impact.
And then-
Silence.
Divya remained standing in the middle of the destruction, chest heaving, the faint hum of power still buzzing through her veins.
Slowly, she looked down at her wrist.
Her bangles-simple, delicate trinkets-were now in pieces on the floor.
Her gaze flickered from the broken bangles to the unconscious cultivators scattered around the room, then back to her own hands.
She swallowed.
Did she just... single-handedly annihilate a group of ghost cultivators?
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
Finally, after a long pause, she let out a slow, shaky breath.
"Well... that was unexpected."
Staring at the shattered pieces of the bracelet on the ground, a thought crept into Divya's mind—Could it be that this PangPang wasn't just some ordinary person?
She knew PangPang's family was powerful, that much was common knowledge. But PangPang herself? She was unfavored, neglected, practically invisible in her own household. There was no way someone like her should have possessed such a strong artifact—unless there was something more to her past than anyone realized.
A sudden headache throbbed in Divya's skull, sharp and insistent. She winced, pressing her fingers against her temples. Then, as if a hidden door in her mind had been flung open, a fragment of memory surfaced.
Wait a minute… who was PangPang's mother?
Her hands stilled against her forehead. She couldn't remember. Not a single detail. The story—PangPang's supposed backstory—had always stated that she was the heroine's sister. That was it. Nothing more. But if that were true, then why had the so-called heroine treated her with such disdain? There was no warmth, no familial bond—nothing that indicated they shared the same blood. And yet, the world recognized her as the heroine's sister, meaning there had to be some connection.
And now, after witnessing the way PangPang's body reacted in battle—the precision, the instinctive dodges, the unshakable strength—Divya couldn't ignore the possibility anymore. Even without knowledge of cultivation, she could tell this was no ordinary body. It was top-tier.
But before she could dwell on it further, her survival instincts kicked in. Forget it—now's not the time to solve mysteries. Now's the time to run.
Getting in had been difficult, but escaping? That was something she had been trained for since childhood.
Her so-called Hitler father—a strict, regulation-obsessed man who believed curfews were sacred and time management was law—had made sneaking out of the house nearly impossible. Nearly. But Divya had spent years perfecting the art of slipping away unnoticed. From childhood to adulthood, she had mastered every trick, every escape route, every shadow to melt into.
And now, combined with PangPang's sharp instincts, escaping this place was nothing short of effortless.
She encountered a few ghost cultivators along the way, but they were low-ranking. Weak. Easy to deal with. Before they could even register her presence, she had already disappeared into the darkness.
And just like that, she was gone.
Huff, huff, huff.
Divya clutched her knees, gasping for breath as she finally stumbled out of the Ghost Cultivators' mansion. Every muscle in her body burned, and the adrenaline that had been keeping her upright was beginning to fade.
Now, she was hiding—stuffed inside an old, barely standing stable, its wooden beams creaking with every gust of wind. She pressed herself against the rough wall, her heart pounding like a war drum.
Then, she smelled it.
Her nose wrinkled immediately. What the hell is this smell?!
She covered her nose, but it barely helped. The stench was thick, putrid—like rotten hay, wet fur, and something far worse mixed together. For a second, she genuinely thought her nose was going to catch fire from the sheer intensity of it.
But there was no time to complain. This was the only place she could duck into without being spotted. And right now, if she wasn't wrong, the entire Ghost Cultivator clan was on high alert.
They would be searching for her.
And if she didn't stay hidden—if she didn't play this right—there wouldn't be a second escape.
After all, one of her bracelets was already history, and now she had only one left. And let's be real—these ghost cultivators weren't just going to keep politely aiming for her hand like it was some kind of warm-up round.
No, no. The next strike? It was coming straight for her neck.
Great. Just great.
Because clearly, almost dying once tonight wasn't enough.