Yun Fang leaned into Zhao Rui's shoulder, her voice frayed. "Hiding was wise... but what now?"
Leng Xin's static-laced confession crackled through the phone. "The mine's structural arrays were sabotaged. Those 'inspectors' manipulated earth veins. And the storm—it wasn't natural. Local weather logs show sunshine. Yet boulders melted like butter under phantom rain!"
Zhao Rui's thumb traced the jade shard's pulsating vein. "Three Lives Temple summoned tempests."
"But without proof—"
"Proof?" Zhao Rui's laugh held winter's edge. "Since when do wolves need proof to feast?" He kissed her brow, the gesture tender yet final. "Stay. Breathe. This ends at dawn."
Qiyun Mountain's peaks speared heavenward, their qi-rich mists coiling like sleeping dragons. Atop Wanshou Peak, Three Lives Temple's obsidian gates bore carvings of the Eight Immortals—their stone eyes weeping black resin.
Two acolytes barred the path, their nasally challenges drowned by Dun Che's snort. "Gatekeepers to a piss-ant sect. Move."
"Insolent beasts!" Sword glares erupted—twin jade serpents aiming for Zhao Rui's spine.
Dun Che yawned. His clawed palm twisted.
Crunch.
The blades crumpled like foil. The acolytes' jaws followed suit as hurricane-force qi lifted them airborne. They became projectiles, shattering the main hall's vermillion doors in a rain of splinters.
Inside the Hall of Returning Origins, Abbot Three Lives rose from his mercury throne. "Who dares—"
"Repayment's come due," Zhao Rui announced, stepping over groaning acolytes. "For 400 buried souls. For Yun Fang's tears."
Tianqi scrambled from behind a pillar, face still dented from their last encounter. "Master! They're the ones who—"
"Silence!" The Abbot's jade prayer beads glowed toxic green. "Shi Clan's collapse was natural disaster. Three Lives Temple mourns their—"
Dun Che's fist met a marble pillar. The entire hall trembled. "Liar's tongue grows heavy, eh?"
Zhao Rui unsheathed the Raksha's Bow. Its azure light exposed hidden sigils on the walls—blood-drawn wards of misdirection. "Your storm reeked of Three Lives' water manipulation arts. Your greed left mountainside bones."
Abbot Three Lives' smirk revealed filed fangs. "Allegations require evidence, young master. Where are your—"
"Enough."
The bowstring hummed.
Chaos erupted.
Novices flung talismans that dissolved mid-air, their incantations smothered by the Raksha's aura. Elder disciples formed sword arrays—only to watch their blades rust to dust in Dun Che's gravitational vortex.
Abbot Three Lives shed his mortal guise. Flesh sloughed away, revealing obsidian scales and serpentine eyes. "Fools! You think Hua Yang hasn't foreseen—"
The arrow pierced his third eye.
For a heartbeat, the hall held its breath. Then—
*BOOM.*
The Abbot's true form unraveled—a thousand-year accumulation of stolen qi erupting in geysers. Mummified corpses tumbled from hidden alcoves—previous Wanshou Peak occupants, their essence siphoned to fuel Three Lives' ascent.
Dun Che whistled. "Talk about bad feng shui."
Zhao Rui crouched beside Tianqi, now a shivering heap. "Tell Hua Yang." He pressed the jade shard into the disciple's palm. Its crimson vein pulsed hungrily. "Next arrow bears his name."
Dawn found Yun Fang awaiting on the helipad, her gaze scanning eastern skies.
They descended amid rotor wash—Zhao Rui's coat singed, Dun Che picking scales from his fur.
"Well?"
"Three Lives Temple," Zhao Rui said, "is now a very quiet place."
She touched his cheek. "And Hua Yang?"
The jade shard in his pocket throbbed—a captured fragment of Three Lives' stolen earth dragon. "He'll come. And when he does..."
Shanghai's skyline glittered, unaware of the storm gathering beneath its streets.