The morning after Yuyan's first flame flickered, the Xuèyàn manor stirred with quiet unease. Servants moved briskly through the courtyards, their hushed voices carrying tension instead of calm. Rumors crept like smoke through the corridors—strange movements on the roads, shadows in the forests, soldiers sighted near villages.
Lin Jinhai stood at the gate of the training yard, his eyes fixed on the horizon, unreadable as stone. Fang Zhi approached silently, bowing his head.
"They are coming," Fang Zhi said simply.
Jinhai's jaw tightened. "Heavenly Dao Sect?"
"Yes. Azure Sky Sentinels. At least three squads. Their movements are disciplined, swift. They will arrive within days."
Behind them, Yuyan sat cross-legged, unaware of the storm gathering. A faint crimson flame still danced upon her fingertip, fragile as a candlelight. Pride lit her face as she looked up at her father.
"Father, look—I can hold it longer today!"
Her joy pierced Jinhai's heart like a blade. For an instant, the unyielding clan leader faltered, seeing not a weapon of inheritance but simply his child. Then his face hardened again.
"Good," he said curtly. "But remember—flames invite the storm."
Yuyan tilted her head, puzzled by the weight in his voice.
Fang Zhi stepped forward, his tone respectful. "Master Jinhai, perhaps we should summon the elders. A council must be held."
"You're right," Jinhai replied. "Although it is a hassle, set the meeting at once."
Yuyan frowned in confusion but followed as they left the training ground for the main hall.
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The great hall of the Xuèyàn clan filled quickly. Torches burned low, shadows wavering against the crimson banners that hung along the walls. Elders and captains gathered, their faces lined with worry.
Fang Zhi spread a map across the long table, marking the Azure Sky Sentinels' march. "Three squads at least, closing in from the east. Their speed is deliberate—they know where we are."
Murmurs rose instantly.
"There are too many. Why don't we flee, as before?"
"Flee where? The sect hunts us everywhere."
"Then scatter! Let each family branch carry the flame separately. At least the bloodline will survive."
"No—we must fight! We cannot run forever."
The voices clashed like swords, some sharp with fear, others with defiance.
"We hold. If we run, we tell the world we fear them," Jinhai's voice cut through the debate, harsh and absolute.
The elders fell silent, but the division lingered in their eyes.
Yuyan, too small to understand their grim arguments, grew restless. She clutched her stomach and tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mother… I'm hungry."
Her mother, who had been silent through it all, pulled her gently onto her lap. She handed her a fruit from the basket nearby, holding her tightly as Yuyan bit into it with childish innocence.
The elders argued on—bloodlines, pride, sacrifice—yet for Yuyan, the hall was only warm arms, sweet fruit, and confusion.
Her mother's eyes, however, were clouded with worry.
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Meanwhile, far beyond the manor walls, the Azure Sky Sentinels pressed through the forests. Their sapphire cloaks blended with the dawn mist, boots moving in perfect rhythm, silent as wolves on the hunt.
Captain Tian Lianxu raised his hand, halting the column. His sharp gaze swept the terrain before them.
"Do not underestimate them," he said coldly. "The Xuèyàn clan are cornered beasts. Even the smallest spark of their flame can burn."
His words sent a ripple through his men. Some gripped their spears tighter with righteous zeal, convinced they were purging traitors. Others swallowed unease, questioning why their blades must be turned toward a child.
But doubt was treason in the Heavenly Dao Sect. Orders were iron.
The march resumed. As they advanced, a flock of crows burst from the treetops, their harsh cries echoing like a dark omen.
⸻
That night, Jinhai gathered his household in the lantern-lit chamber. Yuyan sat at her mother's side, rubbing her eyes, half-drowsy from the long day of training. Fang Zhi unrolled a map once more, his finger tracing the enemy's path.
"They will be here within two nights," he said grimly.
Jinhai's tone was calm, yet his words struck like thunder. "Then we must decide: do we stand and burn with what remains… or do we scatter, and let the flame survive?"
The silence was heavy. Everyone knew either path carried ruin.
Then Yuyan's small voice broke the stillness. "Father… why would we scatter? Doesn't the flame grow brighter together?"
The room froze. Her innocent question cut deeper than fear itself.
For a long moment, Jinhai closed his eyes. He heard again his own words, spoken countless times: Discipline before strength. Endurance before death.
When he opened them, resolve burned in his gaze.
"The Heavenly Dao Sect believes they can smother us," he said, his voice steady, unyielding. "Let them come. The Xuèyàn flame was never so weak that it bows before false saints."
Outside, the night wind howled against the shutters, carrying the distant toll of temple bells.
The hunters were drawing closer.
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