The journey back to Scarlet Sun territory was swift, the forest giving way to ridges where the wind smelled of hot stone and distant smoke.
Feng Lian entered the Sect's inner fortress without ceremony, the guards bowing low but keeping their eyes averted. The air inside was heavy with incense and iron — the scent of sharpened blades and old blood.
At the far end of the grand hall, Sect Master Yan Yuehong was waiting, her crimson robes flowing like liquid fire over the dais steps.
Yuehong: "Well? Did you see him?"
Feng Lian gave a short nod.
"Ruo Han. He's not merely bonded. There's something… buried. Hidden deep."
Yuehong's eyes narrowed.
"Hidden by whom?"
He met her gaze evenly.
"Perhaps by himself. Perhaps by the White Jade. But if awakened, it could burn both sects to the ground."
She rose from her seat, each step deliberate.
"Then we will be the ones to awaken it."
Feng Lian hesitated — just for a breath.
And in that hesitation was a truth he'd never spoken:
This mission was not about the sect for him anymore. It wasn't about victory or conquest.
It was about the way Ruo Han had looked at him — wary, yes, but unbroken.
Feng Lian: "He won't come willingly."
Yuehong's smile was a blade's edge.
"Then make him want to."
Later that night, alone in his quarters, Feng Lian unrolled a small silk pouch. Inside was a fragment of jade — cracked, faintly glowing, and warm to the touch.
It pulsed once in his palm.
And for a moment, in the quiet of the fortress, he thought he heard Ruo Han's voice.