Han Zhenwu's stern face softened slightly as he looked at his son. Nineteen years old, and already at the low stage of Rank 2—an achievement most would never touch in their lifetime. He gave a single approving nod.
"Zhennan, you've done well," he said. "Rest for now, but listen carefully to what I'm about to say."
Han Zhennan straightened, sensing the weight in his father's tone.
"The region will soon fall into turmoil. The empire and the sects will not war among themselves, but with the Far Lands."
Zhennan's eyes widened. The name of that place had long been whispered throughout the region, always shrouded in dread. He had never seen it, but he had heard enough to know it was unlike anywhere else. His thoughts ran wild.
The Far Lands? Why would the empire and sects waste their strength there? Against who? As far as I know, the Far Lands hold nothing but beasts. And no one who has crossed the mountain gates ever returned alive…
Before he could ask, Han Zhenwu's voice cut through his doubts.
"You will leave the sect soon," his father said firmly. "Do not worry about your friends. Their fathers were told by me as well, and they'll be making the same demands. You have only one more year left in the sect before the empire moves to war. But listen closely—this must remain a secret."
Zhennan felt his chest tighten as his father's gaze hardened.
"The information I have came from the empire… and I did not take it legally. If they discover this, they'll be on my neck. So keep your mouth shut, child. I want you to take as much as you can from the sect—skills, resources, connections—but stay low. Do not draw their attention. If they see you as a candidate, they will take you into the war early. And once that happens, you won't belong to the sect anymore. You'll be claimed by the empire under a mutual pact between the two, and from that point on, leaving will no longer be an option. It will be considered treason."
His father's tone grew colder.
"You can withdraw from the sect on your own, but it must be within the next eight months, just to be safe. If anything changes, I will come for you myself. If the sect tries to force you into the empire's army, I don't want to have to pay those weasels a single coin to get you back from the empires army."
Han Zhennan clenched his fists, his mind racing, but he gave a firm nod.
Han Zhenwu leaned forward, his eyes sharp as steel.
"So if I tell you to come back, you return—whether or not your friends follow you. Is that clear?"
"Yes, father," Zhennan answered.
Han Zhenwu's expression eased only slightly, but his voice carried a final weight.
"I am trusting you with this, Zhennan. Otherwise, I would have forced you into an oath. Do not disappoint me."
Han Zhennan bowed deeply before his father and turned to leave, the heavy words of the conversation still weighing on his mind. For several days after, he remained at home, resting as commanded. His body needed recovery, but more than that, his thoughts churned endlessly. The looming war. The Far Lands. His father's demand to remain silent. He carried the weight of secrets that could shatter sects and draw the empire's wrath.
When the time came for him to return to the sect, he gathered his belongings and departed quietly, his steps steady though his mind was far from calm.
The moment he arrived back at the Storm Break Sect, he was greeted by familiar voices.
"Finally you're back!" Lu Zhenhai exclaimed dramatically, rushing toward him. His grin was wide and exaggerated, though his eyes betrayed real relief. "Now I don't have to listen to that damned goat all day long!"
Before Han Zhennan could even chuckle, Xue Lian's voice rang out like thunder.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A GOAT, YOU LAZY COWARD?!" She stomped forward, eyes blazing as her long black hair whipped in the breeze.
Lu Zhenhai flinched, holding his hands up as though surrendering, though a mischievous smirk tugged at his lips. "I was just… paying respect to your endless wisdom, of course."
"You dare—!" Xue Lian's face reddened, and she raised her sword threateningly.
Han Zhennan couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into laughter, the sound deep and unrestrained. The tension dissolved instantly. Even He Ruying, standing quietly behind them, allowed herself a faint smile at the familiar antics.
Together, the four walked into the sect's courtyard, laughter and bickering echoing in the crisp air. For a brief moment, life felt normal again.
---
The following months settled into a rhythm. Training, missions, study. Their bond deepened with each passing day. Han Zhennan often found himself sparring with Lu Zhenhai under the watchful eye of the elders, their blades clashing in a storm of sparks. Xue Lian remained the loudest, always shouting encouragement or complaints during their sessions, while He Ruying's quiet determination drove her palms against wooden dummies until they split apart.
Yet even in this familiar cycle, Han Zhennan's heart carried the shadow of his father's words. He never spoke of it, not even to his closest companions.
That fragile peace was broken one morning when a disciple delivered sealed letters to each of them. The wax bore their families' insignias.
Han Zhennan's chest tightened as he broke the seal and read his father's message. The words were simple but absolute: Leave the sect. Now.
He looked up and saw the same shock mirrored in his companions' faces. One by one, they began to gather their things. No hesitation. No farewell.
When questioned by the teachers, Han Zhennan kept his explanation plain. "I cannot hold my clan alone. I must return to assist the elders." His tone allowed no room for doubt.
Lu Zhenhai, too, was pressed. One elder in particular demanded answers—an elder who had invested resources in him, hoping to pull him into his own faction. But Lu Zhenhai only smiled, offering smooth words and feigned innocence, until finally, when the pressure grew too great, he slipped away. It was only later whispered that he had taken advantage of that elder's generosity, draining his coffers under false promises before vanishing. The elder raged, but could do nothing. No rules had been broken he could only wish he'd meet him again so he could beat him up for tricking him.
And so, one by one, the four left StormBreak Sect behind.
---
They returned to their hometown, each heading toward their family estate. For Han Zhennan, the familiar courtyard of his clan stood waiting, its walls weathered but strong. He stepped through the gate and found his father seated in meditation, his aura steady and deep.
Zhennan waited silently until Han Zhenwu opened his eyes.
"Very well," his father said calmly. "I see you have kept your promise."
Zhennan bowed. "Yes, Father."
He began recounting all that had transpired within the sect: the training, the missions, the growing whispers of war. He spared no detail. When he finally finished, he hesitated, then asked:
"Father… may I ask you something?"
Han Zhenwu's gaze sharpened. "Yes. The war is about to begin. The empire and the sects are expected to march through the mountain gates within a month. That is why I called you back."
Zhennan's breath caught. "So soon…"
"As for that sect," Han Zhenwu continued, his tone dismissive, "you need not concern yourself. You will not be returning. You are already of age, Zhennan, and so it is time I tell you of our true inheritance."
---
Han Zhennan leaned forward, every fiber of his being attentive.
"Our ancestor," Han Zhenwu said, his voice heavy with reverence, "was once a grand cultivator—a titled cultivator who reached the CoreForged Stage. In his time, our clan was not the modest family you see today, but a power rivaling even mid-sized sects. Wealth, prestige, respect—we had it all. But such brilliance draws envy."
Han Zhennan's pulse quickened as his father's eyes hardened.
"We were branded and hunted. Sects and clans conspired together, seeking our treasures. Our name had to be buried. We took on the name 'Han,' erasing our true lineage. Even I do not know the original name—it is spoken only in whispers, lest it be discovered."
Zhennan's heart pounded. The weight of history pressed against his shoulders.
"Our ancestor left behind an inheritance. But it cannot be seized through force. Only a true blood of the Han clan can enter, and only once. Each person has only a single chance and unfortunately you cna only pass through it as long as you're not above mid stage of rank 2 otherwise the inheritance will not allow you inside it was made as a measure as far as i know so that no one that powerful can get inside or break into it."
From within his robes, Han Zhenwu produced a small, ancient amulet. Its surface shimmered faintly, etched with runes that seemed to shift under the eye.
"This amulet is the key for the inheritance," he said. "My father tried. His father before him tried. I, too, attempted—and failed. None of us reached the end. But you, Zhennan… you are different. Your talent, your strength, your will—you may yet succeed where we have all fallen short."
Han Zhennan reached out, his fingers trembling as he touched the amulet. Its surface was warm, almost alive.
"But," Han Zhenwu's voice cut sharply, pulling his son's eyes back, "the path is perilous. There is a great chance you will die. And because of that, before you go, you must fulfill one duty."
Zhennan frowned. "What duty?"
Han Zhenwu's eyes narrowed. "You must have offspring."
Zhennan froze. "Offspring? You mean—"
"Marriage." Han Zhenwu's tone was absolute. "Yes. I want you to marry. Do not look so shocked. I have already begun selecting candidates. Each one has something that will benefit you and your descendants. They will strengthen our bloodline."
Zhennan's mouth fell open. He had faced blades, demonic cultivators, life-and-death battles—but this… this he was not prepared for.
"I—Father, I don't think I can! Marriage now? I am still nineteen! Wouldn't that distract me from cultivation? Children, responsibilities—surely that would hinder my progress?" He spoke quickly, desperate, hoping his reasoning would be accepted.
But Han Zhenwu only snorted. "You will not be babysitting your wife, boy. Why would she hinder you? If anything, she will support your path. And do not think to use my own words against me."
"Father, I—"
"No." Han Zhenwu's voice was sharp as a blade. "This is not a request. Your talent and your future are too grand to waste on one woman. You will not marry a single wife, Zhennan. You will take several, each carefully chosen to strengthen our clan's future. Political power. Allies. Bloodline. That is the foundation upon which your cultivation must rise."
Zhennan's protest died on his lips. He could only stare, stunned, as his father's words crashed over him like waves.
"Prepare yourself," Han Zhenwu said at last. "This is your duty—not only as my son, but as the heir of our buried legacy."