They did not take him far.
Zhou Wei realized that before the sun fully cleared the clouds. The sect had quieted after the tribunal, but it was the brittle kind of quiet that came from pretending the worst had already passed. Guards moved with forced calm. Elders spoke in low voices behind closed doors. No one wanted to believe Elder Zhang was still dangerous.
Zhou Wei knew better.
He felt it in the way the warmth inside him refused to settle. Not flaring, not warning. Simply awake. The kind of alert that came before violence.
"They'll move him at dusk," Mei Lin said quietly.
They stood near the herb sheds, far enough from the main paths to avoid attention. The air smelled green and wet, crushed leaves releasing sharp notes underfoot. Mei Lin's posture was composed, but Zhou Wei felt the tension coiled tight beneath it.
"Yes," Zhou Wei replied. "They'll think daylight is safer. Less chance of interference."
"And less chance of witnesses," she added.
"Exactly."
She looked at him sideways. "You're certain he'll try."
Zhou Wei did not answer immediately. He reached inward instead, brushing the edge of Elder Zhang's presence. It was faint now, distant and muffled by seals and bindings, but the intent bled through clearly.
Rage. Calculation. A single, focused line of will.
"He won't accept a cage," Zhou Wei said finally. "Not after losing control in public."
Mei Lin nodded once. She had learned to trust that tone.
The order came in the late afternoon.
A short announcement, carried by a junior disciple trying very hard not to look nervous. Elder Zhang was to be transferred to a Heavenly Purity holding site at dusk, escorted by sect guards under supervision.
Routine. Clean. Proper.
Zhou Wei watched the preparations from the margins. He counted guards. Not enough. He noted the route. Too narrow. Too familiar.
"They're making it easy for him," Mei Lin murmured.
"They're assuming he's broken," Zhou Wei said.
They were both quiet after that.
When the sun dipped low, painting the stone paths gold and shadow, the procession assembled. Elder Zhang was brought out last, hands bound, cultivation suppressed by layered seals that glowed faintly against his skin. His robe had been changed to plain gray. No insignia. No authority left to display.
He walked upright anyway.
Zhou Wei felt the eyes turn as Zhang passed. Some were curious. Some were relieved. Some were afraid of what his fall meant.
Zhang did not look at them.
He looked straight ahead.
That was the second warning.
The Heavenly Purity elder did not accompany the transfer. That was the first mistake. Authority had delegated the task, assuming the danger had passed.
The gates opened.
The procession moved.
Zhou Wei followed at a distance, blending into the crowd of servants and junior disciples who lingered along the outer paths, pretending curiosity. His breath stayed even. His steps were measured.
Mei Lin was not supposed to be there.
That worried him.
He felt her presence anyway, a steady knot of awareness trailing the procession from the opposite side. She was not close. She was not hiding poorly.
She was choosing to watch.
The path narrowed near the old stone bridge that crossed the ravine below the sect. The sound of water rose, loud and constant, swallowing smaller noises. Guards tightened formation, spears angled inward.
Zhang stumbled.
It looked real. His foot caught on uneven stone. One guard reached out instinctively to steady him.
Zhou Wei's pulse jumped.
The warmth inside him surged.
Zhang moved.
The seals shattered in a burst of sickly light, corruption snapping through them like dry branches. Spiritual pressure exploded outward, flinging two guards off their feet. The one who had reached for him screamed as Zhang twisted free, bones cracking under the force.
"Now," Zhou Wei whispered.
He did not rush forward.
He stepped back.
Zhang turned, eyes wild, blood at the corner of his mouth. His cultivation flared erratically, power tearing against restraints that were no longer there. He lashed out again, sending another guard crashing into the bridge railing.
Panic erupted.
Disciples scattered. Servants screamed. The escort formation dissolved in seconds.
Zhang laughed.
It was ugly. Triumphant. Unhinged.
"Did you think chains would hold me," he snarled.
Zhou Wei felt the intent sharpen then, snapping into place as Zhang's gaze found Mei Lin across the chaos.
There.
Zhang moved toward her, forcing his way through the confusion, power crackling around him.
Mei Lin did not run.
She stepped back once, planting her feet at the edge of the path. Her breath steadied. The Fallen Grace stirred inside her, not flaring, but aligning.
Zhou Wei moved at last.
Not toward Zhang.
Toward the bridge supports.
He slammed his palm into the stone, channeling a controlled burst of corruption into the old structure. Not enough to collapse it. Just enough to fracture a weakened section.
Stone groaned.
Zhang leapt.
The timing was wrong.
The bridge edge gave way beneath his feet, stone breaking loose and dropping into the ravine below. Zhang twisted midair, roaring in fury as he slammed into the remaining structure, fingers clawing for purchase.
Zhou Wei felt the opening.
He stepped into it.
The warmth inside him surged outward in a precise, controlled strike. Not raw force. Alignment. He hit Zhang with his own imbalance, feeding it back into him, twisting corrupted energy against corrupted flesh.
Zhang screamed.
The sound tore raw from his throat as his cultivation buckled, backlash ripping through meridians already strained by years of abuse. Blood sprayed across the stone.
Guards stared in horror.
Zhou Wei stood a few paces away, chest heaving, face pale. To anyone watching, he looked like a terrified servant caught in the wrong place.
Zhang collapsed.
His body convulsed once, twice, then stilled.
Silence fell, broken only by the roar of the ravine below.
A Heavenly Purity patrol arrived moments later, drawn by the surge. They took in the scene with trained eyes. The broken seals. The shattered stone. The corpse twisted unnaturally against the bridge remains.
One of them knelt, fingers brushing Zhang's neck.
"Dead," he said. "Demonic backlash."
The words settled like a verdict.
Mei Lin exhaled slowly.
Zhou Wei let himself sink to his knees, breath ragged, hands shaking. Not entirely an act. The backlash had taken something out of him. He felt the warmth settle again, heavy and quiet.
The patrol leader turned to Zhou Wei. "You."
Zhou Wei looked up, eyes wide. "He broke free," he said hoarsely. "He attacked. The bridge. I don't know what happened."
The patrol leader studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Get him away from here."
Guards moved to clear the area. Bodies were pulled back. Blood washed from the stone with buckets of water drawn from the ravine.
By the time night fell fully, Elder Zhang's death was already being shaped into a story.
Resisting arrest.
Demonic backlash.
Unfortunate. Inevitable.
Zhou Wei found Mei Lin later, near the south wall, where shadows pooled thick and deep.
She looked at him for a long time before speaking.
"You killed him," she said.
"Yes," Zhou Wei replied.
"You didn't hesitate."
"No."
She nodded slowly. "Neither did he."
They stood there, listening to the sect settle again, this time into something closer to relief.
"What happens now," Mei Lin asked.
Zhou Wei looked toward the darkened bridge, where broken stone still marked the place of Zhang's fall.
"Now," he said, "the sect pretends this was justice."
"And you."
"And I disappear," Zhou Wei said quietly.
She met his gaze. There was no fear there now. Only understanding.
"That means I do too," she said.
Zhou Wei did not deny it.
Behind them, the Clear Stream Sect exhaled, believing the danger past.
It was wrong.
The first predator was gone.
But the blood in the water had already spread.