Phoebe still stood where she was, looking down at her axe, the blood on her face not yet dry.
Bai Xuan's gaze fell upon her status panel, where several notifications slowly popped up.
【Flaw Strike Lv.0 → Lv.1！】
【Health: 680/680 → 690/690】
【Mana: 240/240 → 243/243】
Bai Xuan stared at the lines of notifications, dazed for a moment before slowly snapping back to reality.
Turning to look at Phoebe, he spoke with a trace of subtle surprise in his voice.
“Your combat skill leveled up?”
Phoebe gently touched the blood on the axe blade, her fingertips trembling slightly.
In her golden pupils, the bloodthirsty sharpness from moments ago had not fully faded, leaving behind a faint trace of crimson.
“Feels... different,” she said, her tone as flat as ever, as if the battle and its accompanying morbid excitement had nothing to do with her.
Her eyes gradually regained their usual tranquility, though a hint of restlessness still lingered deep within them.
That twisted, mad smile and her bloodthirsty excitement from moments ago seemed as though they had never existed.
Only the wet blood on her body proved that everything that had just transpired was not an illusion.
Bai Xuan fell silent for a moment. His gaze rested on the wet blood on Phoebe's face, his mind repeatedly replaying how she had looked just moments ago.
That was not the Phoebe he knew.
The quiet, calm, and even somewhat cold Phoebe would never show such an expression.
But he wasn't sure if he should ask, nor was he sure what kind of answer he would receive if he did.
Phoebe continued to look down at her axe blade, seemingly savoring the sensation of that strike.
Savoring the pleasure of total control and bloodthirsty excitement.
She didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with the sudden surge of morbid excitement.
“?”
Seeing that Bai Xuan remained silent for a long time, Phoebe looked up at him.
Her eyes were completely calm, as if her bloodthirsty demeanor from earlier had been nothing but a trick of his imagination.
“It's nothing.”
Bai Xuan quickly looked away, avoiding her gaze, keeping his tone as casual as possible.
“You've made great progress with that strike.”
Perhaps she was just too immersed in the battle, or perhaps it was simply an instinctive reaction to her skill leveling up.
Bai Xuan couldn't be sure if that morbid excitement was merely a fluke.
Or if it was an undiscovered side of Phoebe that had always been hidden deep within her.
That night, Phoebe was still at the stove cooking soup.
Sitting on the threshold, Bai Xuan watched her busy figure illuminated by the firelight, suddenly recalling the first time he had seen her in the cage.
Back then, she had been kneeling inside the iron cage, her eyes devoid of any emotion, completely indifferent to everything.
Now, she was busily moving around the stove, chopping vegetables, stirring the soup, and adding firewood. Her movements were skilled and natural, carrying a touch of warmth and domesticity.
Phoebe squatted down, ladled a bit of soup with a wooden spoon to taste it, and then gently added a pinch of salt.
Her silver hair slid from her shoulders, draping down to her waist, glowing with a soft, warm light under the reflection of the fire.
Bai Xuan didn't know if she liked this kind of life; she had never said she did, nor had she ever said she didn't.
She simply woke up on time every day, watered the vegetables, chopped firewood, cooked, and went out to fight alongside him.
Perhaps for her, no longer being alone and having someone by her side was already enough.
Phoebe suddenly looked up, pointed at the brightest stone on the ceiling, and spoke haltingly.
“Mom... said... that one... brightest.”
Bai Xuan looked in the direction she was pointing. That particular mineral was indeed larger than the ones around it, and the light it emitted was much softer.
“What else did she say?” Bai Xuan asked softly.
Phoebe lowered her hand and cradled her bowl, her gaze still fixed on the brightest stone as she spoke softly.
“Find... it... then... not lonely.”
After saying this, she lowered her head, took a sip of soup, and fell silent once more, her entire being returning to its usual quiet state.
Bai Xuan looked at her profile, the firelight casting a warm glow over her features.
Her silver hair partially veiled her cheek, and her expression was quiet and lonely.
An indescribable emotion welled up in his heart, like a gentle squeeze that left him feeling both aching and tender.
Bai Xuan opened his hand and stared at the long-healed wound on his palm.
It was left behind from a battle outside the barrier, but Holy Light Catalyst had long since healed it, leaving not even a scar.
Yet he still remembered the pain of that moment—sharp and concentrated, like a fine needle piercing his skin.
He had seen too many wounds—his own, Phoebe's, and those of the strangers he had healed.
He suddenly realized that pain was universal, transcending ranks, races, and status.
Yet, there were some wounds that Holy Light Catalyst could never heal.
Bai Xuan thought to himself.
“Bai,” Phoebe's voice drifted over from behind him, breaking the silence.
He turned around to see Phoebe walking over with two bowls of soup, holding one out to him.
Steam wafted up, carrying a blend of fresh vegetable and savory meat aromas.
Bai Xuan reached out to take the bowl. Phoebe sat down beside him, cradling her own bowl as she gazed into the darkness beyond the barrier.
The faint light from the ceiling was reflected in her golden eyes.
Bai Xuan took a sip of the hot soup, the claw mark he had seen earlier that day flashing across his mind.
That claw mark, level with the top of his head, was a constant reminder of the threat posed by the Blackmane Wolf King.
If the Level 10 Blackmane Wolf King launched a personal assault, could that invisible barrier truly hold it back?
He didn't know, and he didn't dare to think about it.
Silently finishing the soup in his bowl, he stood up and handed the empty bowl back to Phoebe.
“Tomorrow, we continue.”
...
Time flew by, and two months passed in the blink of an eye.
The eighth floor of the dungeon had long since transformed from a carnival for adventurers into a meat grinder that devoured lives.
The adventurers who had initially swarmed the area had now mostly dispersed.
The ruins still stood, but few dared to set foot inside them.
The first batch of people who rashly attempted it suffered devastating losses, and though the second batch was far more cautious, they were not spared either.
Those who remained now were either powerful, well-prepared teams, or desperate gamblers who refused to change their ways.
Odos's team clearly belonged to the former category.
They weren't particularly strong, but their saving grace was their extreme caution.
The five-person squad consisted of three men and two women, led by Odos, a Warrior in his forties.
This team had been scraping by in the dungeon for seven or eight years; they had never struck it rich, but they had never suffered any casualties either.
“This is the place.”
Odos squatted before a half-collapsed stone door and lightly tapped the threshold with the spine of his blade. The dull thud indicated that the stone door's interior was solid.
He looked up at the runes on the lintel. Though weathered and blurred, the overall outline was intact, and it didn't look like a trap had been set.
The team's Mage, Linna, immediately stepped forward. The woman in her early thirties hovered her palm over the runes, closed her eyes to focus her mind for a moment, and then spoke.
“The residual mana is very weak. It should be just an ordinary storage room, not a vital guarded area of the ruins.”
“Open it,” Odos said, standing up and taking a couple of steps back, readying himself to stay on guard.
The Warrior immediately stepped forward, using his shield to firmly brace against the edge of the stone door.
The Archer quickly notched an arrow and stood on alert, while Linna retreated to the center of the formation, a faint glow rising from the tip of her staff.
The entire sequence of movements was smooth and seamless, clearly rehearsed countless times.
The stone door was slowly pushed open. The space inside was small—a typical storage room with a few items scattered across a stone platform.
Rusted vessels, shattered clay pots, and a fist-sized sphere.
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