From the perspective of Zhuge Su Yeon
The black castle did not rush me.
The gate creaked once more, not in farewell, but as if sighing for yet another guest who insisted on staying. And I stayed. Not out of attachment, not out of fear that some intruder might dare to cross the mountain range — after all, the entire world had already forgotten this place — but purely out of convenience.
The formation covering the final range was perfect in its simplicity. Invisible, absolute, it kept away both men and beasts, preserving this wasteland as a vault sealed by fate itself. Add to that the three lords of the Winter Forest — Blue Tiger, Hydra, and Sparrow King — and the castle was not an abandoned ruin, but a living fortress.
A fortress with bodyguards who don't charge me anything. The author, sometimes, is far too generous.
There was, therefore, no rush to return.
I wandered through each floor calmly. Touched walls, opened doors, studied each rune as one who examines the bones of an ancient corpse. The inheritance that many youths would sacrifice their lives to snatch from a single hall was here, open, waiting only for discipline.
But I am not so foolish as to empty an entire treasure.
The castle itself was more useful than any hurried haul. In the future, it would become a perfect training ground. A secret school of the Zhuge clan, protected by the silence of the mountains and the fear of legends.
Still, I selected a few pieces.
Books on formations — not for me, but for Mei Xue. She already possessed rare enough talent to turn lines of Qi into living walls; with these texts, her hand would gain centuries of condensed practice. Some martial techniques also came with me, not the grandest, but those which, in the right hands, could forge solid styles for new generations.
And, above all, I carefully searched among the ancient inscriptions for any sign of teleportation or concealment formations. They were the two I already intended to purchase from the system; if I found them here, it would simply mean saving points. After all, spending points on something the castle offered for free would be foolishness — and foolishness is a luxury I do not permit, not even to the author of this story.
The rest I left where it was.
The black castle did not need to be looted. It needed to be preserved.
Only after weeks of reading and selection — when every detail had already been mapped and catalogued in my mind — did I decide to leave.
Two months had passed since I left Grey Sky. Two months in which the Zhuge clan, I imagine, continued to breathe without me.
I did not worry about their safety.
First, because no one but Mei Lan knew I had left. And even she would understand: it was not rare for me to disappear into "isolated cultivation." Patriarchs can afford silence.
Second, because I had not killed the elder of the Dark Sun Sect.
Wounded, humiliated, yes. Dead, no. That changes everything. A corpse is a banner of war; a survivor is merely another offended piece who must calculate before moving.
And lastly, because the game of power is not simple.
The Dark Sun Sect may want revenge, but it was far from being able to act thoughtlessly. They were not the only predators in this empire: seven other great sects watched every move, prey always lurking for a breach to sink their teeth into. Any one of them advancing without calculation would only mean being devoured by the rest.
And, besides, there was the weight of the Imperial House.
The Zhuge clan, after all, was not a hermit lost in the mountains. We were subjects of the White Flame Empire. And within this empire, the mistress of the greatest sect still bore the same crest as the royal family. A constant reminder that, above sectarian ambitions, there was a throne that did not tolerate prolonged disorder.
Therefore, even with whispered threats, with heavy gazes cast over Grey Sky, things were not as simple as some bitter lips would wish.
And it was with this tranquil reasoning — the black castle at my back, the silent snow beneath my feet, and two months of absence weighing only like a light shadow — that I began my return journey.
I had fulfilled what I had planned.
The black castle was now an invisible foundation for the future of the Zhuge clan, and part of its inheritance already rested under my guard. It was enough.
But there was another reason for my return.
It was not longing — that word sounds almost offensive to one who has already learned to cultivate silence. It was not even concern for Grey Sky, that little town that breathes rumors as others breathe cheap incense.
It was something greater, inevitable.
The next arc of the story.
In four months, the capital of the White Flame Empire would host the selection of the Seven Great Sects. An event announced as a ceremony, but which always transformed into a stage. The kind of stage where destinies are broken or ignited, where ordinary youths bleed for approval, and where protagonists shine like torches lit in the night.
And my brother was, without a shadow of doubt, one of those torches.
Zhuge Yu Jin, with his reckless flame and thirst for vengeance, would never accept missing such a spectacle. To reach the capital, a common cultivator in Spiritual Refinement would need two whole months of travel — crossing forests, dangerous roads, and the inevitable parade of clichés. Which meant he would have to depart soon.
And, being a protagonist, he would not only leave early.
He needed to leave early.
Because the author demands adventures along the way.
If there are no ambushes, chance encounters, mysterious masters, and loyal companions nearly dead in some tavern… then what kind of protagonist would he be?
I smiled faintly.
Ah, Yu Jin… you have the script on your side. And that, by itself, is enough.
As for my little sister, I harbored no illusions. Yui Lan was a river that does not accept damming. No matter how many disguises she wore, how many needles she used to hide her face, fate would push her toward him. Protagonists travel in pairs — or in trios, if the author is especially inspired. Grey Sky could never contain them for long.
Their next stage would be the capital.
There they would meet unlikely masters, allies willing to die in their place, and enemies whose hatred would serve only as a ladder for future ascensions. That was the script. That was the story.
Me?
I would not go there.
At least, not openly.
A patriarch cannot simply parade among adolescents with boiling blood, or he would end up drawing upon himself a narrative focus that does not interest me. But… watching from afar? Spying on the spectacle? Perhaps. It is always amusing to see the author waste his ink on pyrotechnics while I continue writing in silence.
Still, those were thoughts for later.
For now, the path was simple: return to the city of Grey Sky.
Return to the Zhuge clan.
The wind cut across my face with the serenity of one who knows the pieces are already moving on the board by themselves. I only needed to be back in my seat before the curtain of the next scene rose.
And so I walked.
The castle at my back, the snow beneath my feet, and before me… the inevitable return.
I did not find the three youths I had saved at the entrance of the forest.
Nor did I find the girl and her companions.
Whatever had happened, it was for destiny to decide. It was not my task to oversee every line written by this careless author. Protagonists need wounds, antagonists need falls, extras need improvised graves. The machinery of the plot moves on without my hand.
That is why I did not stop.
I shot forward toward Grey Sky.
The journey that, for common humans, would cost two whole months, for me was nothing more than a few hours in full flight. The sky opened, and the forests, rivers, and mountains became mere scratches on the distant ground.
Of course, I did not return directly, tearing across the skies above the townsfolk's heads. Grey Sky did not deserve spectacle. It was too small a city to withstand unnecessary lightning on the horizon.
I landed just before.
Allowed my feet to touch the cold earth again, took a deep breath, and walked to the gates like any traveler returning from a long absence.
As for being seen, that was no longer a problem. Long ago I had learned enough martial techniques to hide from ordinary eyes. And among mortals and low-level cultivators, ordinary eyes are the only currency available.
I passed unnoticed.
Or at least, that was the intention.
But, to my surprise, the quiet Grey Sky I had left behind was not the same one I found upon my return.