The Red Lotus Mercenaries' base nestled deep within Xu Capital's old quarter, blending subtly into the backdrop of ancient fortresses and commercial avenues. But within its walls, the scent of blood-tempered steel and sharp vigilance hung thick in the air. Jue Qingling sat cross-legged before a tactical map, eyes narrowed, as Ruan Lianhua leaned over her shoulder.
"They're late," Ruan murmured.
Qingling didn't reply. Her senses had already picked up the arriving pulse; a distinct aura of the Yang Refining Realm, deliberate and heavy with purpose. She rose.
The outer guards bowed as two figures in traveling robes flashed their insignias from the Saint Spirit Sect while stepping into the courtyard. Their presence crackled faintly, like a flame suppressed beneath an oiled cloth.
"Deacons Lin and Hua," Qingling greeted smoothly, inclining her head. "An unexpected honor."
"Not honor. Duty," replied Deacon Lin, his eyes sharp, his tone dry. His counterpart, Hua, said nothing, but his gaze swept the base with a calculating chill.
They were not here as guests.
In a quiet chamber moments later, the deacons revealed their purpose. Lin handed over a jade scroll and several thick seals engraved with runes.
"We bring new formations for blood essence collection," he explained. "They are more efficient than previous models, and for the best results, are designed to activate during battlefield engagements, drawing from ambient slaughter."
Ba Shanyue accepted them with a faint frown. "So soon? We were told our mission window was six months."
"The timeline has changed," Hua said curtly.
Lin continued, "Your orders are to deploy these formations during any territorial conflicts or regional skirmishes. Blood essence gathered must be reported monthly, without exception."
"Of course," Qingling replied, her expression composed. "But such improvements, hand-delivered no less... surely you didn't travel all this way merely to deliver scrolls."
Lin offered a humorless smile. "No, of course not. We're also here to inspect."
The mood in the room shifted. Reports were summoned, mission logs unsealed. Hua read them aloud, slow and precise, as if seeking discrepancies in the ink itself. When he reached the mention of the Elven Kingdom's tribute, his brows lifted slightly.
"Generous compensation," Lin murmured, glancing at the ledger. "And all perfectly allocated."
The implication hung in the air like a blade suspended by thread.
Qingling did not miss it. She leaned forward and, with deliberate grace, opened a carved box.
"As emissaries of the sect, surely you deserve tokens of our respect," she said, offering rare herbs, crystalline cores, and a piece of elven jewelry.
Lin and Hua stared but did not move.
"We are not here to barter," Hua said coldly. "The Sect Master has awakened, and we only move with his will now."
Qingling's fingers twitched. "Awakened?"
"He recently summoned all of the branch leaders," Lin confirmed. "And with their recent meeting comes a tide of change. War is no longer something far. It has become necessity."
The words rang with finality.
Qingling's thoughts churned behind a placid mask. If war came early, they would lose precious time—time to build alliances, to entrench local support.
"Will the missions be recalled early then?" she asked.
"Possibly," Hua said. "Blood must flow. The surrounding regions must be soaked in essence before the season turns. That is all we are permitted to say."
Qingling bowed low. "Then we shall obey."
But even as the deacons left, rejecting every offer of comfort or bribe, Qingling and Ruan exchanged a single glance.
Something was wrong.
---
Later that evening, inside a quiet room of polished wood and incense smoke, Jue Qingling and Ruan Lianhua sat alone. The window was cracked open, letting in the sound of distant market laughter. The air between them was soft and still.
Qingling leaned back with a playful sigh. "So, loyal servant of our future overlord... how does it feel?"
Ruan shrugged slightly. "Familiar. Comfortable."
Qingling grinned, her voice light. "Comfortable, huh? Not exactly the word most would use after swearing obedience to someone who nearly blew up his own courtyard while experimenting."
Ruan's lips twitched. "He didn't."
"True," Qingling allowed, pouring herself a cup of tea. "He just got very, very close. Still, I didn't expect it to feel so... right. When I said I'd follow him, I meant it, but... it felt like something clicked into place."
Ruan gave a small nod. "It did."
There was a quiet pause.
Then Qingling leaned in, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial glint. "We've still got our mission. Still got to build ties, gather strength. But now it's different. We're not just doing it for survival. We're doing it for all of us. For the future we're starting to believe in."
Ruan looked at her. "But we also need to demonstrate obedience."
"And we'll show it," Qingling said, lips curving. "Naturally. Let them see loyalty in our posture, our actions. But that doesn't mean we stop thinking. If we can be strong allies, we'll earn more than favor. We'll be indispensable."
Ruan gave the smallest of nods. "And when the time comes?"
Qingling's smile softened. "Then we'll already be standing where we need to be."
The evening breeze fluttered the window curtain.
Ruan sipped her tea, then looked at Qingling. "You've changed."
"Yeah?" Qingling blinked innocently. "How so?"
"You smile more."
Qingling chuckled, raising her cup. "Blame Feiyin. He has that annoying effect."
They clinked their cups together with small, contented smiles.
---
At the same time, Ba Shanyue sat across from Deacon Lin in a quiet courtyard near the guest wing. Lin, a sharp-eyed man with a build like chiseled stone, crossed his arms as he stared down the younger disciple.
"So? You've been stationed here long enough. Have you seen anything suspicious?"
Ba Shanyue shook his head. "Nothing concrete. Jue Qingling and Ruan Lianhua seem loyal enough- at least on the surface. No signs of collusion or hesitation in their operations. They're efficient. But I can't prove anything against them."
Lin's gaze narrowed. "You're from the Saint Body Branch. You should know better than to take everything at face value."
Ba tensed but nodded. "Understood. I've kept my distance, but I've kept my eyes open too. If they're hiding something, it's subtle."
Lin exhaled through his nose, then shifted the topic. "And the real task we gave you? The clan of giants. Any progress?"
A shadow passed over Ba's expression. "Some traces. Old tracks in the deep woodlands, ruins with abnormally large furnishings- definitely not human-made. But I haven't located the clan itself. They're good at hiding."
Lin's voice grew sharp. "Good at hiding isn't good enough. If you want to become a deacon- much less dream of becoming an elder- then you need to deliver. The Saint Body Branch is counting on you."
Ba bowed his head. "I understand, Deacon Lin. I'll keep pushing."
"Do more than push," Lin snapped. "Prove yourself. Or someone else will take your place."
Ba Shanyue remained silent, his fists clenched tightly at his side as Lin walked away, the pressure of expectation weighing heavily on his broad shoulders.
---
To the northwest, far from Xu's Capital, where dry hills rolled into forested ravines, a caravan trembled under the weight of approaching steel.
Bandits had swarmed them, crude auras blazing with desperation- but their confidence shattered when a dozen armored figures surged from the treeline.
"Defensive wall!" shouted Cai Feng, his sword already drawn.
His squad of Spirit Slaying Alliance members moved as one, surrounding the merchants and pushing back the attackers with precise, brutal efficiency. Moments later, silence returned to the path, broken only by ragged breaths and hooves shifting nervously.
One merchant, a plump man with weathered eyes, approached cautiously.
"Senior cultivator, you saved us. We had no idea this stretch was so dangerous."
Feng wiped his blade and nodded. "The warbands are moving closer to the capital. You're lucky we patrol these roads."
As the rescued group regained their composure, the merchant rummaged in his wagon.
"I was headed for the next city to deliver these," he said, holding up a weathered satchel of letters and scrolls. "Courier work pays well lately, with the wars rising again."
Feng's eyes fell on the bundle. Something tugged at him. A sense. A whisper.
"May I...?" he asked.
The merchant blinked. "You know someone on the list?"
Feng didn't answer. His fingers trembled slightly as he flipped through the letters, breath shallow, heart hammering.
Then-
He froze.
A single envelope, smaller than the others. No seal. No signature. But the handwriting-
His knees weakened.
"This writing..."
He tore it open, hands shaking as though possessed.
Only one sentence graced the page.
I'm alive and well. Don't worry about me, I'll see you soon.
Feng stood in stunned silence.
The world around him dimmed, the chirping of birds and wind in the branches falling away.
Tears traced silent trails down his hardened face.
For so many years, he had locked grief behind the armor of purpose. A soldier. A father. A man who had lost and could only move forward.
But now-
Now he wept.
Not from sorrow.
But from joy.
A rough sob tore from his throat as he clutched the letter to his chest. His squad looked on in silence, shocked at the emotional display of their leader yet respectful, eyes softening as they saw the veteran warrior tremble with emotion.
One younger cultivator stepped closer. "Commander... is it..."
"My son," Feng whispered, voice breaking. "He's alive. He's alive."
He collapsed to one knee, not in defeat, but overwhelmed by the weight of relief that crushed his spine and heart alike.
A smile broke through the tears.
He was alive.
His boy was alive.
'I have to tell them, Liao and Meimei!'