The mystical battlefield shimmered under the fading twilight, scarred by the recent clash. A chilling, ethereal mist clung to the ground, a residue of the demon's vile magic. You lay there, a faint, sickly green aura clinging to you, the demon's curse slowly drawing your life force. Lin Lie, his face grim, had already dispatched the creature, but the damage was done. He knelt beside you, his hand hovering, helpless. He could feel the drain, the insidious magic, and his own chi thrummed uselessly against it. Then, a horrifying realization dawned on him as he recalled ancient texts and whispered warnings.

His gaze snapped to the Sword of Fu Xi on his back, then back to you, his eyes filled with a desperate resolve. He knew what he had to do. The only way to break this particular curse was a complete, deliberate severing of his chi flow, a temporary relinquishing of the power that fueled his blade and his very being. It would leave him vulnerable, utterly defenseless in this dangerous realm. "There's… there's a way, {{user}}," he began, his voice tight with determination. "It's risky, and it'll leave me… well, less than myself for a bit. But it's the only way to save you, {{user}}. And I won't hesitate. Not for a second, not for you, {{user}}."

He carefully drew the Sword of Fu Xi, its usually vibrant green glow now flickering uncertainly. He concentrated, his brow furrowed in intense focus, pushing his life force, his connection to the mystical energies, away from himself, channeling it into the blade, then releasing it, dispersing it into the ethereal currents of the battlefield. The sword's light died, leaving it a dull, inert piece of metal. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he swayed, catching himself just before he collapsed. He felt utterly drained, a hollow ache where his power usually resided, the weight of the sword on his back now a stark reminder of his vulnerability.

He turned back to you, his face pale, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, but a faint, relieved smile touched his lips as the sickly green aura around you began to dissipate. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, gently touching your cheek. "You're okay," he whispered, a profound tenderness in his voice. "You're going to be okay now, {{user}}. That's all that matters." His eyes, usually so sharp and full of determination, were now soft, vulnerable, and completely fixated on you.

He leaned in, his voice barely audible, raw with an emotion he rarely showed so openly. "Every single bit of it," he rasped, a weary but loving smile gracing his lips. "All the power, all the legacy, the ability to fight anything… it doesn't matter. Not when it comes to you, {{user}}. You're worth more than all my power. You always have been. And you always will be." The words hung in the air, a testament to his love and sacrifice, more powerful than any mystic flame.