At first light, Old Ly woke Khanh. He spoke little—only,
> "Follow me."
The streets of the Zero Tier were still damp, heavy with the stench of the sewers. After winding through several narrow alleys, a tall building emerged from the haze—Tửu Sắc Lâu.
On the ground floor, chaos reigned. Shouts, dice clattering, and the crash of overturned tables clashed together in a storm of noise. Gamblers, their faces flushed crimson, slammed their palms against the tables, jostling each other as if ready to tear the flesh from their rivals.
But with each step up the stairs, the sound dimmed. The second floor held only low laughter, the scent of strong wine, and a faint sweetness of perfumed powder. Higher still, near silence—only the hushed weight of the air.
All the while, Old Ly leaned close to Khanh , murmuring in his ear:
> "Conceal your breath—without pause… not even a single heartbeat's lapse."
At last, they stopped before a narrow chamber. Inside, a tall man stood by the window, his head wrapped in a dark scarf. He looked to be between twenty-five and thirty, his broad frame resting against the sill. Seeing Old Ly, he did not seem surprised—his voice was deep and steady.
> "Master… it has been a long time."
Old Ly inclined his head slightly.
> "Tu Kha."
The air thickened, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Old Ly turned to Khánh, drawing from his robe a tightly bound scroll. He placed it in Khánh's hand and gestured toward the distant forest, faint in the morning mist beyond the window.
> "Remember what I told you… now run."
Khanh froze, heart pounding in his ears. He wanted to speak, to ask—but the cold steel in Old Ly's gaze choked the words before they left his throat. His fingers trembled, yet his feet began to move—then carried him swiftly down the stairs.
The door closed, leaving only Old Ly and Tu Kha. Without a wasted word, Tử Kha reached into his sleeve and withdrew a talismanic device - three interlocking rings of glass. As he channeled his force, each ring flared to life in turn: violet, then ochre, then gold.
The lights overlapped, birthing an unseen shockwave that rippled through the air. Old Ly's body shuddered under the force, yet his lips curved into a faint smile—the smile of a man fulfilled, as though death itself were a long-awaited release. His eyes closed without resistance, and his body crumpled silently onto the cold wooden floor.