The single drop of dark crimson hovered silently above Elder Lianhua's palm.
It did not drip.
It did not ripple.
It simply… **existed**.
Heavy. Dense. Wrong.
Lianhua's gaze remained fixed on it, her expression composed, her thoughts precise.
"…One drop," she said quietly.
Her eyes swept over the ruined district—the collapsed buildings, the gouged stone, the scarred earth.
"From an entire battlefield."
Her tone remained calm, but beneath it ran a cold, unyielding edge.
"This battle took place only last night," she continued. "And yet the ground has already swallowed nearly everything."
She knelt, fingers brushing the soil. It crumbled easily, dry and loose.
"The blood has been absorbed," she said. "Pulled into the earth, mixed with dust and broken stone. Dried and scattered."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Not by time," she corrected. "By **it**."
A faint pressure stirred in the air.
"Ordinary blood lingers," Lianhua said. "It stains. It seeps. It leaves residue."
Her fingers closed slightly beneath the hovering drop.
"But yours does not," she murmured. "You take yourself back."
The implication was clear.
The White Scale Demon was not merely killing.
It was **reclaiming**.
"Your body rejects this world," Lianhua continued. "Even your blood does not wish to remain."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Which is why only this remains."
She lifted the drop slightly, bringing it closer to her gaze.
"You were careless here," she said softly. "Just once."
The air around the drop wavered, reality bending faintly around its edges.
"But once," Lianhua continued, "is enough."
Her qi shifted.
Not violently.
Not forcefully.
It **aligned**.
Her energy adjusted thread by thread, matching the faint misalignment within the blood. The world around her seemed to tilt subtly, as if perspective itself had been altered.
The drop responded.
Barely.
A faint tremor ran through it.
Then—
A **direction**.
Not a line.
Not a trail.
A **pull**.
So faint it could almost be imagined.
But Lianhua felt it.
Her lips curved by the smallest degree.
"This will be enough," she said calmly.
She straightened, the ruined district reflected in her eyes.
"You erased your tracks," she said. "You scraped the land clean. You swallowed your blood."
A pause.
"But you forgot one thing."
The air grew faintly cold.
"I am not bound by the same rules."
Her fingers closed fully.
The drop vanished into her sleeve, sealed within layers of spatial and spiritual containment.
Lianhua lifted her gaze toward the distant horizon.
Toward where the pull faintly tugged.
"You ran," she said softly.
Her eyes sharpened with ancient resolve.
"Good."
The air bent.
Space folded.
And Elder Lianhua vanished—following the faintest thread of misaligned existence, moving not as a hunter chasing prey…
…but as **judgment** following inevitability.
---
### **Forest — Cave Entrance**
The forest was quiet.
No wind stirred the leaves. No birds called. Even the shadows seemed hesitant, holding still as if waiting for something unseen.
Then, as if the trees themselves parted, **Elder Lianhua appeared** at the mouth of a hidden cave. Her robes flowed like liquid, her steps silent on the forest floor. The faint light of dawn barely touched the edges of the cavernous entrance.
She paused. The air around her was heavy—not with qi, but with expectation.
Her eyes scanned the darkness beyond the mouth of the cave.
**Then she moved.**
From within her sleeve, she withdrew several small objects.
They hovered effortlessly before her, spinning slightly in the air—**formation flags**, each meticulously etched with layered earth runes. High-tier. Earth-grade. Imbued with the precision and power to withstand even a sudden assault from a high-level demon beast.
She raised her hand, and the flags responded instantly, spinning faster, spreading outward in measured arcs. With a subtle flick of her fingers, the flags began to settle into position, floating at precise distances, aligned perfectly to a preplanned schema.
A low hum vibrated through the air as the runes glowed faintly, interacting with the cave walls and the soil of the forest floor. The magic of earth, of containment and restriction, spread in an invisible lattice.
Lianhua moved forward, fingers guiding the formation. Flags hovered before her, behind her, and on all sides, creating a compact but unbroken **defensive array** that covered the cave's mouth and a portion of the surrounding forest floor.
She paused at the edge of the cave entrance. Her eyes traced the lattice of qi lines connecting the flags, invisible yet absolute.
"This will suffice," she said calmly.
The formation would not withstand a full-scale attack from a high-tier cultivator—but it was more than enough for her current purpose. It would alert her to intrusion, slow an enemy momentarily, and mask her presence within the cave.
Satisfied, she allowed the flags to settle, hovering silently, perfectly still.
Her gaze shifted to the darkness beyond. The cave mouth yawned like an empty throat, deep and cold.
Lianhua exhaled softly.
Her qi rippled subtly. The formation sensed her, adjusting in a thread of feedback so slight no ordinary observer could detect it.
Then she **lifted off the ground**, robes fluttering, and glided into the cave.
The darkness swallowed her like water, yet her presence was absolute, senses extending ahead. Every stone, every cavity, every shift in the air, even the faintest trace of misaligned qi—the drop of blood from Jinshi City—threaded through her awareness.
The cave swallowed all sound.
Even Lianhua's movement made no echo. She hovered midair, legs crossed, robes folding softly around her as if gravity itself had loosened its grip. The faint scent of damp stone and crushed earth filled the space but barely registered.
From her sleeve, she drew a small stack of **talisman papers**. They hovered before her, suspended in the air, each sheet crisp, etched faintly with protective and spiritual symbols.
She studied them for a long moment.
"The drop from Jinshi City," she murmured softly. "It will guide me… if I prepare correctly."
Her eyes closed. Her qi extended outward, gentle yet exacting. Threads of energy traced through the cave, brushing walls, stone floors, and the residual misaligned qi the White Scale Demon had left behind.
The talismans hovered, quivering slightly in response. Each sheet was sensitive—responsive to both life force and misalignment. Alone, they were insufficient.
"I need a blood-tracking talisman," she said thoughtfully. Her voice was calm, almost inaudible, yet carried a weight that made the shadows pause.
Her fingers danced in the air, tracing invisible runes. Each gesture drew upon the principles of containment, resonance, and perception.
"The beast does not leave tracks as ordinary creatures do," she continued softly. "It erases, absorbs, misaligns. To follow it… I must do more than sense. I must **draw it out**."
The talismans began to glow faintly, reacting to the subtle qi of the blood sample hidden in her sleeve.
"One drop… enough to tether, enough to anchor," she murmured, a trace of approval in her voice. "It is all I need. Even a single thread can guide me if properly amplified."
She exhaled slowly. Her qi spiraled through the cave, weaving a delicate lattice of perception.
"Not a trap," she clarified softly, almost to herself. "Not a snare. A beacon… a lens. That is what I need first. Then… I will follow. Then… I will find you."
The talismans rotated around her in a circle, energy flowing from her palms into the papers like water threading through stone.