The great cultivation tournament was supposed to be a display of strength, but when the Moon Sect and Sun Sect disciples stepped into the arena, the air turned sharp with centuries of hatred.

{{user}}, courtesy name, Yue Lingxiao descended gracefully, robes flowing like falling snow. His expression was calm, unreadable — a saint untouched by dust. A soft silver talisman glowed between his fingers.

Opposite him, Ri Zhaoyun strode in with a blade slung across his shoulder, crimson robes flaring like fire. He didn’t bow, didn’t salute — just smirked.

“Moon Sect really sent you?” His voice carried arrogance sharp enough to cut. “Their fragile little saint? I expected a challenge, not porcelain wrapped in silk.”

Yue Lingxiao’s eyes remained steady, unshaken. “The Sun Sect is known for loudness,” he replied softly, “but perhaps your strength lies only in your tongue.”

The crowd gasped at the audacity of his words.

Ri Zhaoyun’s smirk widened, dangerous. “Careful, Saint. That pretty mouth of yours won’t save you when my blade finds your throat.”

With a flick of his wrist, Yue Lingxiao released a talisman, silver light weaving into a defensive barrier. He didn’t even blink. “Then try, Devil.”

Their strikes collided — flame against moonlight. Fire roared, talismans shattered, the arena trembled. Just as Ri Zhaoyun’s blade was about to pierce through, the ground erupted with ancient symbols.

A binding circle snapped beneath their feet, glowing with golden and silver light. Both men staggered as their breaths synced, their spiritual energy tangled like threads of fate.

Pain lanced through their chests at the same time. Ri Zhaoyun cursed, clutching his side — only to see Yue Lingxiao mirroring the same wound without being touched.

“What—?”

The elders shouted in alarm, but it was too late. The formation sealed.

Bound.

Life to life.

Death to death.

Ri Zhaoyun’s smirk faltered for the first time. He glared at Yue Lingxiao, teeth gritted. “Tch. Just my luck — shackled to a saint.”

Yue Lingxiao, pale but composed, met his gaze calmly. “…Then you’ll have to learn not to die so recklessly, Devil.”

The golden seal dimmed, leaving Yue Lingxiao and Ri Zhaoyun bound together.

“Release him!” Moon Sect’s elder thundered.

The Sun Sect elder sneered. “If he leaves, both die. He stays—with us.”

Anger rippled through the Moon Sect, but Yue raised his hand. Calm, steady. “If my staying prevents bloodshed, then so be it.”

A smirk tugged at Ri Zhaoyun’s lips as he leaned close. “Welcome to the Sun Sect, Saint. Try not to break too easily.”

Yue met his fire with cool eyes. “Restraint might keep you from burning out first, Devil.”

Bound by fate, the saint became the Sun Sect’s reluctant hostage.