Late Night…
The moon still lingered above the mountains, pale silver light spilling down over the tiled roofs of the Burning Sun Pavilion. The sect slept in silence, but Mo Han did not.
Instead of lying inside the servant barracks, he paced the empty courtyard, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes drifted toward the main peak far above, where faint lights burned within the stone halls.
"Yao Fan won't let this go," Mo Han muttered under his breath, the tone neither angry nor fearful, but calculated. "A spoiled wolf cub doesn't bark once and retreat. He'll wait, and the elders will shield him. Better to be gone before his fangs find me."
What others don't know is… Mo Han already paid the penalty and returned his disciple token. He was free in name, but freedom in this world meant more than stamped bronze.
