Wan sprinted toward her father, her boots skidding on the stone tiles as she threw herself between him and the retreating blue robe. Her breath was shallow, coming in frantic hitches.
"Dad, stop! He isn't the enemy," she cried, her voice cracking. "He just came for his friend!"
Jie Ming didn't lower his hand. His gaze shifted from the courtyard gates to his daughter, his eyes narrowing into cold, predatory slits. The air around him seemed to drop in temperature.
"So," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. "It was you. You brought that rat into my house."
Wan flinched as if he'd struck her, but she didn't back down. She sucked in a breath, her hands curling into tight, shaking fists at her sides. "I love him, Dad. I want to marry him. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep him."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Jie Ming's expression didn't soften; it shattered into a mask of pure loathing. He moved faster than she could track, his palm connecting with her cheek in a sharp, wet crack. The force sent her stumbling back, her hip catching on the edge of a stone fountain.
"Coward," Jie Ming spat, looking at her as if she were a piece of rotting meat. "I didn't raise you to be soft. I didn't raise you to be a fool."
Tears blurred Wan's vision, hot and stinging, but she didn't let them fall. She wiped a smudge of blood from the corner of her mouth and stared back at him, her jaw set in a line of sudden, jagged defiance.
"I love him," she repeated, her voice steady now. "And you can't stop me."
She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving her father standing in the center of the dark courtyard. Jie Ming watched her go, his fingers twitching. For the first time in decades, the Patriarch felt something he couldn't control: disappointment.
In the forest bordering the city, the air was thick with the scent of pine needles and damp earth. Lei Ze moved through the canopy like a shadow, Ying Hua's weight a leaden pressure against his back. Behind him, the sound of breaking branches and the hum of active Qi told him the pursuit was closing in. Seven of them.
"Stop, brat! There's nowhere to run!" a voice barked from the darkness behind him.
Lei Ze didn't answer. He didn't have the breath to waste. He veered sharply to the left, diving behind the massive trunk of an ancient, gnarled tree. He slid down the bark, gently depositing Ying Hua into a hollow between the roots. She was a dead weight, her breathing thin and shallow.
He didn't stay with her. He couldn't. He leaped for a low-hanging branch and vanished into the foliage just as the first four cultivators hit the ground. Three others remained in the air, circling like vultures.
"Where is he?" one of them muttered, drawing a short, curved blade.
"The girl has to be close," another said. He wiped sweat from his forehead, his eyes darting through the undergrowth. "She's a beauty. Even better than the Patriarch's daughter. I've never seen a face like that."
"Shut up," his companion hissed. "Find them before the Lord decides our heads are better decorations than our helmets."
The man opened his mouth to reply, but the words never came. He turned to find the space beside him empty. His two partners were gone. No sound. No struggle. Just the wind through the leaves. A cold sweat broke across his neck. He stumbled back, his boots slipping on the slick moss.
Lei Ze stepped out from behind a veil of ivy. His clothes were untouched, but his eyes were flat and dark. He had taken them out in the silence of the shadows.
"What do you want with her?" Lei Ze asked.
The man stammered, his blade shaking in his hand. "I... I don't know."
Lei Ze moved. He was on the man in a heartbeat, pinning him to the ground and grinding his boot into the man's fingers. The sound of small bones snapping echoed in the quiet clearing.
"Last time," Lei Ze said, leaning down.
"What do you want with her?"
"The scroll!" the man shrieked, his face twisting in agony. "Master Jie Ming wants the ancient technique her father stole. He thinks she knows where it's hidden."
Lei Ze's brow furrowed. "And that's why you're trying to kill her?"
"No," the man wheezed, his eyes wide with terror. "The order was to bring her back. We were only supposed to kill you."
Lei Ze offered a small, ghost of a smile. He leaned closer, his voice a cold whisper in the man's ear. "Then you go first."
He shifted his weight and crushed the man's windpipe with a single, decisive snap.
A sudden flash of light cut through the trees.
A spiritual sword, glowing with a sickly pale energy, tore through the air from behind. Lei Ze tried to twist away, but the blade grazed his ribs, carving a jagged line through his skin. He coughed, the taste of copper filling his mouth as he hit the dirt.
"Found him!" a voice yelled from the canopy.
Lei Ze scrambled to his feet. He didn't look back. He grabbed Ying Hua, slung her over his shoulder, and vanished into the deeper thicket. When the remaining three men landed, they found only four corpses and a tree where a sword was buried deep in the wood. They didn't chase. They looked at the bodies and turned back toward the city, their faces pale.
Lei Ze found a small, circular clearing miles into the heart of the woods. The ground was bare, shielded by a natural ring of stones. He laid Ying Hua down on a flat rock, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"You're a heavy burden," he muttered, glancing at her pale, still face. "What do they even feed you in those sects?"
He gathered dry sticks, striking a spark until a small fire flickered to life. The light threw long, dancing shadows against the trees. He sat cross-legged near the heat, closing his eyes to check the state of his inner sea.
The Tri-Core path was a mess. The demonic energy was a black, oily tide, trying to swallow his spiritual foundation. The Daoist and Buddhist energies acted like two small anchors, keeping him from drowning in the dark, but the balance was precarious. Deep within him, the Jade Sun Pagoda, he had spent months refining into his marrow—shimmered with a dull, protective light.
I have to be stronger, he thought. Revenge isn't for the weak.
He pulled a small, crimson pill from his pouch. It smelled of bitter herbs and old earth. He swallowed it.
As the medicine dissolved, his Qi surged outward. The force of it shook the surrounding branches, sending a rain of yellow leaves onto the clearing. His skin began to glow with a faint, golden hue, and his hair drifted in a wind that wasn't there.
He was deep in the meditation, lost in the flow of his own blood, when the shadows moved.
Four figures emerged from the tree line.
They wore tribal masks carved from bone, their bodies bare and painted with grey ash.
Each of them had four arms, fingers ending in hooked talons. They didn't make a sound as they surrounded the boy sitting by the fire.
Lei Ze didn't move. He couldn't even feel them.
One of the masked things raised a jagged stone knife, its eyes fixed on Lei Ze's throat.