The sun had fully risen above the Flowing Cloud Sect.
Warm sunlight fell upon the ruined courtyard, yet it brought no warmth. Instead, it illuminated a scene soaked in blood and silence. Cracked stone grounds, collapsed buildings, shattered weapons, and bodies scattered in every direction—this was what remained of a sect that once stood proud in Yunlai Village.
An elder of the Azure Heaven Sect lay among the rubble near the courtyard's edge. His breathing was shallow, his robes torn and stained dark red. The moment sunlight touched his face, his eyelids trembled.
Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes.
For a brief moment, his vision was nothing but blurred light. Then the memories returned—steel clashing, flames roaring, screams echoing through the night. His heart tightened as he forced himself to sit up, every movement sending sharp pain through his body.
He looked around.
Broken corpses lay everywhere—disciples, guards, cultivators. Some faces were frozen in fear, others in rage, many too damaged to even recognize. The elder's gaze suddenly stopped.
Not far from him lay another Azure Heaven elder.
That man's body was pierced through the chest, his eyes still open, staring at the sky. His sword was planted firmly into the ground beside him, as if even in death he had refused to fall.
The elder trembled.
"…Senior Brother…"
Tears slid down his dust-covered face. That man had shielded him during the final clash, taking a fatal blow meant for him. If not for that sacrifice, he would not have lived to see this sunrise.
His chest felt heavy, as if something was crushing his heart.
But he clenched his teeth.
There was no time to grieve.
The battle might have ended, but danger still lingered. The sect leader—Jian Wuhen—and the others… their fates were still unknown.
Using his sword as support, the elder forced himself to stand. His legs shook violently, blood dripping from his wounds onto the broken stone beneath his feet. His vision swam, and every step felt like he was walking through fire.
Still, he moved forward.
Step by step, he made his way toward the center of the Flowing Cloud Sect.
The deeper he went, the worse the destruction became.
Entire halls had collapsed into rubble. Stone pillars were snapped like twigs. Deep sword marks carved through the ground, some stretching dozens of meters, remnants of terrifying techniques used during the battle.
Bodies were piled together, crushed and burned, their identities impossible to tell.
This was no ordinary conflict.
This was a battle between powers far above ordinary cultivators.
As the elder staggered forward, a figure slowly came into view.
A man sat leaning against a broken wall, unmoving.
At first glance, the elder's heart nearly stopped.
The man's body was soaked in blood. His robes were burned and torn, revealing scorched skin beneath. His chest rose and fell faintly. But what caught the elder's eyes most was the man's right arm.
The flesh was torn open.
Bones were visible.
The arm hung at an unnatural angle, connected to the shoulder by little more than torn muscle and skin. It looked as though a single pull could sever it completely.
The elder's breathing became ragged.
"Sect… Leader…"
Summoning every ounce of strength left in his body, the elder dragged himself forward, his injured leg nearly giving out beneath him. He fell to his knees beside the man and placed trembling fingers on his neck.
A pulse.
Weak—but steady.
Relief flooded his chest so suddenly that he nearly collapsed again.
"He's alive…"
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed behind him.
Heavy. Multiple.
The elder's heart jumped. His vision was still blurry, and shapes moved at the edge of his sight. Figures were approaching—ten, maybe fifteen.
Enemies?
His hand tightened around the sword lying beside him.
If these were remnants of the Flowing Cloud Sect… then this was where he would die.
Even so, he forced himself to stand again, placing his body between them and Jian Wuhen. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, but his eyes burned with resolve.
He would not retreat.
Even if it meant dying here.
The figures drew closer.
Then, one of them spoke.
"Elder, are you alright?"
The elder froze.
That voice—
His vision cleared slightly as the men stepped into the sunlight.
Azure Heaven Sect robes.
Elite unit insignia.
His sword slipped from his hand.
"They're… ours…"
The strength left his body all at once. Relief washed over him like a tide, and before he could say another word, his knees buckled.
As he fell, he forced out his final command.
"Quickly… take the sect leader… to the Physician…"
Darkness claimed him before he hit the ground.
⸻
As Aelric stepped out of the sect hall of the Flowing Cloud Sect, the scene before him was one of quiet chaos. The battle had ended, but its echoes still lingered in every corner of the sect. Members of the elite units moved through the ruined grounds, some supporting injured comrades, others carrying the wounded toward the temporary medical area. A few laughed weakly when they recognized familiar faces still alive, while others knelt beside lifeless bodies, grief written clearly on their faces. The smell of blood, smoke, and broken earth mixed in the air, forming a heavy atmosphere that had yet to fade with the rising sun.
Aelric walked toward the front gate at an unhurried pace, stepping past shattered weapons and broken tiles. His expression remained calm, untouched by the surrounding emotions. His mind was no longer on the battlefield but on the fragmented memories he had forcibly extracted from Li Hong before his death.
Although those memories were incomplete and badly damaged due to the restriction placed on Li Hong, Aelric had still managed to uncover something important. The inheritance of an Immortal Master existed—and it was located within the Tianshan Mountain Range. From what he had seen, the Tianshan Mountains formed a massive natural barrier separating the Western Region from the Southern Region. Their terrain was harsh, dangerous, and nearly impossible to cross by normal means.
More importantly, there was only one known way to enter that mountain range.
Martial Society.
Located far to the west of the Southern Region, Martial Society controlled the passage into the Tianshan Mountains. It was not just an organization but one of the Four Pillars of the Unorthodox Alliance in the Southern Region. Its influence stretched far beyond ordinary sects, and even large factions treated it with caution. From the memories, Aelric understood that without passing through Martial Society, reaching the Immortal Master's inheritance was almost impossible.
That realization alone was enough to shift his future path.
Aelric also confirmed one more critical detail—
The masked man was a member of Martial Society.
That was where the memories ended.
The moment Aelric tried to dig deeper, the foreign energy inside Li Hong's mind reacted violently, destroying the remaining fragments and ultimately causing his death. Whatever secrets lay beyond that point were deliberately sealed away, likely by a curse or a powerful restriction meant to prevent information from leaking.
As Aelric continued walking, questions formed one after another in his mind.
Why did the masked man kill Li Hong?
If Li Hong was already cooperating, then eliminating him served no obvious purpose—unless Li Hong had outlived his usefulness. Or perhaps he knew something he was never meant to know.
Did the masked man manipulate the Azure Heaven Sect from the very beginning, using them as a blade to wipe out the Flowing Cloud Sect and remove Li Hong cleanly?
Was there a second hidden force involved, operating alongside White Dragon Hall, watching from the shadows while both sects clashed openly?
And the masked man himself—
Was the one Aelric saw in the traitor's memories the same person he fought today? Or were they merely wearing the same Rakshasa mask, representing something larger?
The more Aelric thought, the clearer one thing became.
None of this was a coincidence.
All threads, no matter how tangled, pointed toward Martial Society.
Yet despite this conclusion, Aelric lacked the information needed to draw a complete picture. He did not know Martial Society's true goals, nor did he understand their connection to the Immortal Master's inheritance. Acting blindly would be inefficient—and Aelric never acted without purpose.
As his thoughts settled, Aelric's gaze shifted toward the distant horizon beyond the sect gates.
Yunlai Village had lost its value.
At first, this place had sparked his curiosity. The Spirit Realm, the conflicts between sects, the hidden schemes—it had all been mildly interesting. But now, he saw it clearly. Yunlai Village, the Azure Heaven Sect, and even the Flowing Cloud Sect were nothing more than frogs at the bottom of a well, fighting over a small patch of sky.
The real world was far larger.
And far more dangerous.
If Martial Society stood at the center of this web, then that was where Aelric needed to go. Not out of anger, nor revenge—but because that path promised answers, power, and progress.
With calm certainty, Aelric made his decision.
His next destination would be Martial Society.
⸻
Some time later, within Azure Heaven Sect, inside the sect leader's personal chamber.
Jian Wuhen slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the familiar wooden ceiling above him, carved with simple patterns he had stared at countless times in the past. A faint ache spread through his body, dull but deep, reminding him that he was still alive. The scent of medicine lingered in the air, mixed with the faint smell of blood that had yet to fade.
As his vision slowly cleared, he turned his head with effort. Sitting beside his bed were his two sons, each holding one of his hands tightly, as if afraid he might disappear if they let go. Their eyes were red and swollen, exhaustion and fear written clearly on their faces. The moment they noticed their father's eyes opening, their bodies stiffened. Then tears flowed freely, no longer held back.
"Father…" one of them whispered, his voice trembling.
Jian Wuhen tried to speak, but only managed a faint breath. Still, the warmth of his sons' hands told him everything he needed to know. He was alive. He had returned.
After some time, once his condition stabilized, the chamber slowly filled. Captains of the elite units, elders who were still able to stand, and the strategist entered one by one. Many bore bandages, some leaned on their swords for support, and others had faces pale from blood loss. The room felt heavy, filled not with celebration, but with silence.
Jian Wuhen looked at them for a long moment before finally speaking.
"How is the situation?" his voice was weak, but steady.
The strategist stepped forward and cupped his fists. His expression was grave.
"Sect Leader… it is not good," he said after a brief pause. "Although we won the battle, the price was heavy. Three elders have fallen. Two captains of the elite units are also dead. Many disciples were injured, and a large number did not return."
His voice slowed near the end, as if even speaking the words felt difficult.
No one else spoke. The chamber fell silent.
In the hearts of everyone present, the same question arose—was this truly a victory? They had destroyed the Flowing Cloud Sect, but the cost was measured in lives, loyalty, and blood. Faces of fallen comrades seemed to appear before their eyes, refusing to fade.
Jian Wuhen understood their thoughts clearly.
He knew that many would resent him for this decision. Some already did. But he did not regret it. Because in exchange for those sacrifices, Azure Heaven Sect had secured Yunlai Village, taken control of the Spirit Realm, and formed an alliance with White Dragon Hall. The future of the sect had been carved with blood—but it was a future nonetheless.
If bearing the sin meant protecting the next generation, then he would shoulder it alone.
His gaze moved across the room before he finally asked, his voice softer than before,
"Liang Shen…?"
The strategist hesitated. Just for a moment.
Then he slowly shook his head.
"Elder Liang Shen has fallen," he said quietly. "His actions were decisive. If he had not destroyed the armoury, the Flowing Cloud Sect would have overwhelmed us. His sacrifice… ensured our victory."
The words landed like a blade.
Jian Wuhen closed his eyes tightly. His breathing grew uneven, and silent tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, soaking into the pillow beneath his head. No one spoke. No one moved. They allowed their sect leader this moment of grief.
After a long silence, the strategist stepped forward once more.
"Sect Leader," he said gently, "the Divine Doctor has requested to see you."
Jian Wuhen slowly opened his eyes again. Though they were tired, there was clarity within them.
"I wished to meet him as well," he replied.
The chamber remained quiet as the weight of the past battle lingered in the air.
⸻
After some time, Aelric stepped into the sect leader's personal chamber.
The room was quiet, filled with the faint scent of medicinal herbs. Sunlight filtered through the half-opened window, falling softly on the bed at the center. Jian Wuhen was sitting upright, his back supported by cushions. Thick white bandages wrapped around his chest, while his right arm was bound tightly from shoulder to wrist. Even through the cloth, the damage was obvious—his arm lay unnaturally still, as if it no longer belonged to him.
Aelric's gaze lingered for a brief moment on the bandaged arm.
Noticing this, Jian Wuhen let out a faint, self-mocking laugh. His voice was weak, yet steady.
"The physician says I won't be able to wield a sword again in this lifetime."
Aelric calmly withdrew his gaze and spoke in an even tone.
"I apologize for requesting a meeting while your condition is still unstable."
Jian Wuhen shook his head lightly.
"Hoho… there is no need for that. I wished to see you as well. There is still the matter of our deal."
Aelric nodded.
"That is precisely why I came."
He paused briefly before continuing, his voice unchanged.
"I have decided not to enter the Spirit Realm. I will be leaving Yunlai Village today."
The words landed heavily in the room.
Jian Wuhen's expression froze for a moment. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at Aelric, clearly caught off guard.
"You… do not wish to enter the Spirit Realm?" he asked slowly, as if confirming what he had just heard.
Aelric met his gaze calmly.
"No. Instead, I wish to receive compensation in gold and end our agreement here."
For a brief second, Jian Wuhen studied Aelric's face, searching for hesitation or hidden intent. There was none. Only calm certainty.
Inside, however, a wave of relief surged through him.
If Aelric did not enter the Spirit Realm, then Azure Heaven Sect would retain full control over it. The resources, the future cultivation grounds, the foundation for generations to come—all would remain in his hands. Though he did his best to conceal it, joy stirred quietly in his heart.
He raised his uninjured hand and gave a subtle signal toward the guard standing near the door.
Aelric noticed this but did not react. He already understood what Jian Wuhen was thinking. The Spirit Realm no longer held value for him, and the sect's gain meant nothing to him now.
Moments later, the guard returned, carrying a storage ring and a thick, worn book. He approached respectfully and handed them to Jian Wuhen.
Jian Wuhen accepted them and then passed both items to Aelric.
"This storage ring contains twenty thousand gold coins," he said slowly. "As for this book… it was given to me by a Martial Master when I was young. He said it could only be used by someone with a particular constitution."
His gaze sharpened slightly as he continued.
"I was never able to cultivate it. Perhaps… it may be of use to you."
The title on the cover was simple yet imposing:
Blazing Divine Fire Arts
Aelric accepted the items without hesitation. He glanced briefly at the book, then stored both away. He cupped his fists toward Jian Wuhen in a formal gesture.
"Our agreement is concluded."
Jian Wuhen nodded in return, watching Aelric closely as he turned to leave.
Aelric stepped out of the chamber, his figure calm and unhurried, as if this place had already become something distant.
And with that step, a journey that would one day alter the fate of this world quietly moved forward.