The sun had not yet cleared the jagged teeth of the eastern peaks, but the air was already heavy with the promise of iron and wood. This was the day of the Hunt. In the grand cycles of the Eastern Lands, it was the moment where the four great sects stopped pretending to be neighbors and started remembering they were rivals.
Lei Ze sat in the dirt of his usual clearing. He didn't look for the sunrise. He looked inward. The internal topography of his spiritual sea had changed. It was no longer a quiet lake of golden Buddha-light or the steady, green flow of the Dao. A third current, a viscous, midnight-crimson tide, now ground against the others.
He took a slow, deliberate breath. The air in his lungs felt sharp. He pushed the combined energies through his meridians, forcing the Mid-Golden Core to settle.
The breakthrough had been violent, catalyzed by the fall and the demon's seed, but now it sat in his gut like a lead weight. Stable. Lethal.
The sound of a boot scraping against stone broke his focus.
Hú Yì landed ten paces away. His descent on the flying sword was clumsy, a slight wobble in his knees as the blade clattered onto the grass. He looked like a man who had spent the night chewing on his own bile.
Lei Ze didn't move until the final surge of his cultivation session had fully coiled into his core. When he finally stood, the displacement of Qi was a physical shove. It wasn't a flare of light; it was a sudden increase in atmospheric pressure. Hú Yì, caught off guard, stumbled back two steps, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword.
"That pest," Hú Yì spat. The words were low, thick with a heat that had nothing to do with the sun.
Lei Ze brushed a stray bit of pine needle from his sleeve. His face remained a flat mask of disinterest. "You're early, Senior. Or did you simply lose control of your flight?"
Hú Yì's jaw tightened so hard the muscle jumped. He stepped forward, the smell of expensive silk and unrefined anger preceding him. Lei Ze looked at him, and for the first time, he felt a genuine flicker of disappointment.
"Instead of taking the win and staying quiet," Lei Ze said, his voice level, "you're here looking for more. I protected you, Hú Yì. I lied to the Sect Master for you."
Hú Yì let out a short, jagged bark of a laugh. "Protected me? You're a stray dog Jìng Xū picked out of the mud. Why would I owe a dog anything?"
Lei Ze tilted his head. "Have you asked yourself why the guards haven't come for you? Why the Elders haven't stripped your rank for trying to murder a junior?"
Hú Yì flinched. It was a small movement, a microscopic retreat in his posture, but in the silence of the clearing, it was as loud as a shout. He knew. He knew the cost of what he'd done, and the realization that he was beholden to Lei Ze's silence was a rot in his pride.
"So what?" Hú Yì hissed.
Lei Ze sighed. He didn't have the energy for the theater. He turned to walk toward the main gate, his back to the senior.
The air hissed. A hand clamped onto Lei Ze's shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle, and yanked him back.
"You don't turn your back on me!" Hú Yì roared.
He didn't use a technique. He used raw, clumsy spite. He lifted Lei Ze and slammed him toward the ground.
Lei Ze didn't resist the fall. He used the momentum. As his back hit the dirt, his hand shot out, catching Hú Yì's wrist in a grip that felt like a stone vice. He jerked down. Hard.
Hú Yì wasn't expecting the leverage. He went down beside Lei Ze, his face hitting the dry grass with a dull thud.
Lei Ze scrambled up, his breathing still rhythmic, still controlled. He brushed the dust from his shoulder, intent on leaving before the blood reached Hú Yì's head. But the senior was past reason. From the ground, Hú Yì swung a low, sweeping kick aimed at Lei Ze's knees.
Lei Ze didn't jump. He stepped into the arc, catching the shin with the side of his boot, then twisted his torso. His fist didn't travel far. It was a short, focused strike into the soft meat of Hú Yì's abdomen.
The sound was a hollow oomph.
Hú Yì skidded across the clearing, his body folding like a piece of paper. He hit the base of a tree and stayed there, clutching his stomach, his face a mottled shade of purple. He looked up, his eyes wide with a sudden, freezing realization. Mid-Golden Core? No. That was too heavy.
Lei Ze didn't look back to check the damage. He just kept walking.
The Central Square was a sea of grey and green. Lǐ Yúnzhōu stood on the high platform, his eyes scanning the twenty disciples selected for the Hunt. Lán Tíng was there, her hand resting nervously on the pommel of her sword.
"Jìng Xū?" Lǐ Yúnzhōu said, leaning toward the monk.
Jìng Xū didn't look at the students. He was watching a figure on the far edge of the square—Huò Jié. The man was speaking to a junior, his hands tucked into the deep sleeves of a black cloak that seemed to swallow the morning light.
"Something's wrong with the air around that one," Jìng Xū murmured.
"Huò Jié?" Lǐ Yúnzhōu frowned. "Wèi Kāng brought him in. Found him being hunted by debt collectors in the southern slums. Saved his life."
"Debt collectors or a cleaning crew?" Jìng Xū stroked his beard, his eyes narrowing. "I saw him leave the gates last night. Full cloak. No lantern. A man who moves like that isn't looking for a midnight stroll."
Lǐ Yúnzhōu's face hardened. He watched Huò Jié turn and walk toward the supply wagons. "If he's the leak, the Jīn Yàn will know our route before we even clear the first ridge."
"They likely already do," Jìng Xū said.
Lǐ Yúnzhōu turned back to the crowd. "Disciples! You head for Wǔ Yán Gǔ. The Five Flames. This unit will be led by Lei Ze."
He paused. He looked at the row of nineteen students. Lei Ze's spot was empty.
Just then, Hú Yì limped into the square. He was pale, one hand pressed firmly against his ribs, his breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches.
"Hú Yì," Lǐ Yúnzhōu barked. "Where is the boy?"
Hú Yì forced his face into a mask of feigned concern. "My Lord... I saw him. By the valley tree. He seemed... hesitant. I think he's decided the risk is too great."
Lán Tíng's head snapped toward Hú Yì, her eyes flashing with a sharp, lethal doubt. Lǐ Yúnzhōu's jaw set. The sun was up. They couldn't wait. He looked at Hú Yì, his hand hovering over the leadership scroll.
"If he isn't here—"
"I am here."
The voice wasn't loud, but it carried. Lei Ze walked into the square, his stride long and easy. He didn't look like a man who had been hesitant. He looked like a man who had been busy.
He knelt before the platform, his head bowed. Lǐ Yúnzhōu's relief was a physical exhale. He stepped down, placing a hand on Lei Ze's shoulder.
"My grandson," the Sect Master said, his voice low enough for only the inner circle. "You lead them. Bring nineteen back. Not eighteen. Nineteen."
Lei Ze stood. He met Jìng Xū's eyes. The monk gave a single, slow nod.
"I will not fail you," Lei Ze said.
Hú Yì stood in the second row, his fingers curling into a white-knuckled fist. The jealousy was a physical taste in his mouth, metallic and sour. Leader? That insect?
"We move," Lei Ze commanded.
The journey to Wǔ Yán Gǔ was a test of endurance.
Four powers were converging on the volcanic wastes. The Green Pine, the Jīn Yàn, the Bì Yù Zōng, and the Crimson Wine Gate. Eighty disciples in total, all hunting for the same scraps of ancient power.
Lei Ze stood on the back of Lán Tíng's flying sword. He didn't have the luxury of his own flight yet, and the proximity to her was a quiet anchor in the chaos. The wind whipped at his hair, pulling at the crimson band.
Below them, the world changed. The lush greens of the mountain gave way to a scorched, black landscape. The earth was cracked, weeping lines of orange magma that looked like glowing veins. The air turned sulfurous, a dry, baking heat that made the horizon shimmer.
"Wǔ Yán Gǔ," someone shouted over the wind.
In the distance, other streaks of light appeared—different colored robes, different sword-glows. The Jīn Yàn were easy to spot; their gold and black looked like wasps against the red sky.
Hú Yì, flying on his own blade a few yards to their left, looked at the converging sects. He licked his lips, a cruel, jagged smile breaking across his face.
"Outsiders," he muttered, his eyes tracking the Jīn Yàn scouts. "This is going to be so much fun."
Lei Ze didn't look at the other sects. He looked at the central peak of the valley—the caldera. He felt the Tri-Path Core in his gut pulse in time with the heat of the mountain. The halberd was down there. Somewhere.