Orin sprinted through the forest, the elders were all around him, but his mind was locked on Old Han—crumpled back there, bloodied, holding off three sixth-step elders alone.
"He's not dying for me!" Orin growled under his breath, his feet pounding the dirt.
The elders' qi flared behind, a purple ripple bending branches—Gao's voice suddenly filled the air, "He's circling back!"Wei's eyes narrowed, catching Orin's path. "He's heading for the old man!"
He spun toward Old Han's fallen form, staff glowing. "Grab him—now!"
"No you don't!" Lian shouted, lunging forward, qi blade slashing the air to cut Orin off. They were pretty serious, and Orin knew that his life was at stake. They had realised that he was using dark qi, something forbidden.
If they caught him, then his next destination would probably be solitary confinement, they wouldn't take it easy on him. He wasn't about to let that happen.
But Orin was already moving—legs pumping, he kicked off a root and launched into the air, high above the elders' reach.
He soared into the sky, exhibiting a tattoo powered jump that was over twenty feet high.
His mind was racing, he needed ideas, fast.
In that split second, something broke loose inside him. The tattoo on his palm surged, silver runes erupting like wildfire—spreading fast, coating his right side in jagged, glowing lines.
His arm, chest, leg—all shimmered with a cold, radiant sheen, as if forged from starlight and ash.
Orin's breath caught, then exploded in a roar—Deity's Shard igniting, a torrent of qi flooding his veins. The power was fast overflowing, it needed a release.
Silver light pulsed, raw and untamed, and he thrust both hands downward, channeling the surge toward the elders below.
It's effect was stunning.
A beam of silver qi roared out, sharp as a blade's edge, it quickly rained down, like several missiles, slamming into the forest floor.
The elders' eyes widened—Gao shouted, " Qi Barrier!"—purple qi flaring as the three slammed their hands together. A shimmering dome snapped up just as the silver struck, a deafening boom splitting the air.
The ground buckled—earth shattered, trees toppled, and a massive crater yawned open, dust and debris choking the sky. The shockwave rippled outward, an earthquake trembling through the forest, cracking roots and shaking leaves loose. Orin didn't look back. He landed hard, boots skidding on the torn earth, and bolted for Old Han. The old man lay slumped against a splintered trunk, blood streaking his chin, stick dim in his grip. Orin slid to his knees, grabbing Old Han's arm.
"Up—now!"
he grunted, hauling him over his shoulder. Old Han groaned, head lolling, but his weight settled—alive, barely.
Behind, the elders staggered in the crater's wake, barrier flickering. Gao gritted his teeth, fist clenched, purple qi sparking. "Damn him!" Wei coughed, wiping dust from his scarred face, his staff planted to steady himself.
Lian's gaze tracked Orin's fading figure, cold and silent. "He's gone," he muttered, voice tight. The hole gaped between them—too wide, too deep to cross fast.
Orin had slipped their grasp.
Scar paced a clearing half a mile off, boots scuffing moss, hands tugging at his torn shirt.
Five minutes—Orin had said five minutes. "Come on, Boss," he muttered, panic clawing his chest.
The elders' qi blasts had faded, but the ground still quaked—rumbling like the world was splitting. "He's dead, or caught, or—damn it, where's he at?"
His swollen eye twitched, pacing faster. No Old Han, no Orin—he was alone, an orphan again, stuck in a forest with nowhere to run. He stopped, fists balled, ready to bolt or fight or something—then a voice pierced the haze.
"Scar!"
It was sharp, urgent, unmistakable. Scar whipped around, heart jumping. Orin burst through the trees, silver glow fading from his right side, Old Han propped against him—limp but breathing.
"Boss!"
Scar rasped, relief flooding his bruised face. He stumbled forward, hands out. "You—how'd you—?"
"No time," Orin cut in, voice ragged, sweat streaking his dirt-smeared brow. He shifted Old Han's weight, nodding at Scar.
"Grab his other side—we're out of here."
Scar nodded fast, hooking Old Han's arm over his shoulder, wincing as his own ribs ached. The old man's head lolled, a weak grunt escaping—still kicking.
Orin glanced back, tattoo dim but humming. The elders' qi flickered faint in the distance—pissed, regrouping. "Move," he said, low and firm, leading Scar deeper into the woods, earth still trembling underfoot.