The skies wept the morning Ember Hollow was found.
Rain soaked the trees, made the earth thick and slow, as if the heavens themselves were reluctant to let go of the newly freed souls that trudged toward the mountain pass. Derick walked in silence, one arm steadying a younger boy on trembling legs, the other gripping the broken remains of a spear. Around him, the others moved with purpose—not confidence, not hope, but raw, determined endurance.
No one knew where they were going.
Only that there was no going back.
The Journey to the Wild
Master Shen's decision to abandon the lowlands was not taken lightly. Scouts had reported demon patrols doubling their numbers, and rumors of "flesh purging" rituals haunted every village that had tried to rebel. They couldn't stay. Not in the caves. Not in the woods. Not anywhere civilization could be easily reached.
So they went north—toward the Broken Fang Range, an ancient, savage mountain range riddled with treacherous cliffs, dense forests, and wild spiritual beasts. It was a place feared even by demons for its unpredictable aura storms and twisted ley lines.
Which made it perfect for what Shen had in mind.
Through Storm and Stone
For nearly a week they trekked.
Derick led one group while Master Shen brought up the rear. Lina stayed in the middle, tending to the weakest and ensuring they didn't lag behind. The nights were filled with fireless meals and hushed warnings. They encountered no major beasts, but signs of danger were constant—scratch marks on trees ten feet above the ground, shredded fur snagged on bark, the occasional pile of bones stripped clean.
They passed an overgrown path where a broken wagon still held rusted chains and shattered iron collars.
No one said a word. But everyone looked.
Everyone remembered.
By the fifth day, the children no longer cried when they woke. They simply stood, collected their belongings, and marched. They were becoming survivors.
They were becoming more.
Ember Hollow
It was Derick who first spotted the veil of water—mist curling from between narrow cliffs like the breath of the mountains themselves. Behind it, a narrow ledge and a hidden opening, obscured from sight and sound, waited in silence.
The entrance was tight and dark, but Shen recognized it at once.
"I found this place years ago," he said, brushing aside old moss. "A forgotten hunting lodge carved into the mountain. Never dared return. Too many risks."
Derick raised an eyebrow. "And now?"
"Now I've got students too stubborn to let me die quietly."
They passed through the veil and emerged into a wide, natural cavern.
The interior was damp but spacious. Water trickled from the rear wall into a shallow pool. Bioluminescent fungi clung to the upper crevices, casting a faint blue glow across the stone. Though aged and filled with nature's reclamation, remnants of civilization remained—crumbling torch mounts, cracked tile patterns on the ground, and worn carvings marking old partitions.
Shen smiled for the first time in days. "This will do."
They called it Ember Hollow.
Carving a Sanctuary
Work began immediately.
Derick oversaw the clearing of old debris and reinforced the entry tunnel with sharpened wooden spikes, should any unwanted guests attempt entry. Lina organized supplies and medicine, creating an inventory from foraged herbs and preserved meat. Shen instructed the older teens to dig small vents along the roof for smoke and airflow, and guided others to shape the spring into a steady water source.
It wasn't long before the cave transformed from a forgotten lodge into something more—a beginning.
Training areas were designated. A kitchen and sleeping quarters were sectioned off with salvaged cloth and stone. Crystals, though faint, shimmered along the upper walls, their presence hinting at minor spiritual energy sources.
The children began to laugh again. Quietly. Carefully. But it was laughter nonetheless.
A Teacher's Limits
Despite the hope blooming in their sanctuary, Master Shen knew time was slipping through their fingers like sand.
One night, as the cavern rested under the watch of glowing fungi, he sat with Derick by the water and spoke quietly.
"I've reached my limit."
Derick frowned. "What do you mean?"
"My knowledge—my techniques—they end with the Body Forging Realm. I can teach how to circulate Qi, how to harden the bones, how to enhance the skin. I can even guide a determined student into the early levels of Qi Awakening Realm. But beyond that… I have no scrolls. No legacy. No guidance. I've been walking blind for years."
Derick stirred the water with a stick. "Then we make our own path."
"You say that so easily."
"Because I have no other choice."
Shen studied the young man, then smiled wearily. "You're not like the rest. You weren't born here."
"No," Derick said softly, eyes locked on the water. "But I died here once. That's enough."
Into the Wild
With Ember Hollow secured, Derick knew they needed more—more crystals for breakthroughs, more food for the growing number of mouths, more herbs for healing. On the tenth day, he, Lina, and two others—Mira and Jian—set out into the forest beyond the Hollow.
Their goal: to find a safe hunting route and identify any spiritual herbs or resources.
The journey was tense. The mountain woods were unlike the lowlands. Beasts were more intelligent, the terrain unstable. Spiritual storms passed through like ghosts, shifting gravity and distorting space. Trees bent in unnatural ways, and stones whispered when the wind blew hard enough.
Still, Derick felt alive.
On the second day, they encountered a Silverhide Boar, a second-level Body Forging Realm beast. Derick managed to defeat it after a grueling battle, earning them meat and a small beast crystal. Mira harvested herbs growing near a waterfall, while Jian tracked the path of a deer-like beast with naturally insulating fur.
By the end of their journey, they returned with packs full of resources.
And a renewed sense of purpose.
The Ember Grows
With fresh food, herbs, and even a few small crystals, morale in Ember Hollow began to rise. Derick distributed the beast crystal to a teenage boy with strong potential. Lina cooked a stew that reminded them all of old memories. Shen drafted new training routines.
More importantly—Derick began to write.
He kept a journal—sketching cultivation theories, drawing diagrams of beast anatomy, listing every herb and its effects. If the past had abandoned them, then they would forge a future through sheer will and recorded effort.
"We're not just surviving," Derick said one night as the flames flickered low. "We're building something that will outlive us."
The others nodded.
The fire in their eyes burned just a little brighter.