They moved fast, half-sliding down the ridge, the storm lashing against them with claws of ice.
But no matter how quickly they ran, the black tide reached the village first.
By the time they arrived at the outskirt gates, fire already licked at the wooden palisades. Screams tore through the storm, muffled but unmistakable, and the clang of steel rang like a broken bell.
"Damn it!" Ling Han surged forward, blade flashing as he cut down the first masked fighter at the gate.
Xiyue followed without hesitation, his sword cleaving through the stormlight, movements sharp and brutal. For every man he felled, two more seemed to step from the snow, masks gleaming faintly in the fire.
Ruo Han felt his breath catch. He had fought before, trained harder than most—but this was different. This was slaughter.
And then—
The lieutenant appeared at the village square, calm as a shadow cast by the flames. He stood among the chaos untouched, mask gleaming, head tilted slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear.
Ruo Han's pulse jumped.
He knew Ruo Han had come.
The lieutenant raised a hand—and the masked fighters faltered. Not stopped, not fully—but enough that the pattern of their assault shifted. They no longer struck at random. They turned, inexorably, toward where Ruo Han stood.
Xiyue noticed instantly. He tore down an enemy and whirled, fury in his eyes. "They're after you."
The words made something hot and cold knot in Ruo Han's chest.
Because he already knew.
"Ruo Han—stay behind me!" Xiyue barked, cutting down another man, his sword movements turning reckless in his desperation to shield him.
But Ruo Han stepped forward instead, palms burning, the same suppressed power from before rising in him like a tide.
He couldn't hide it anymore—not from Xiyue, not from himself.
The lieutenant's voice carried across the storm, soft but piercing.
"Show me."
And with the flames at his back and Xiyue's hand catching his wrist too late, Ruo Han did.
The blast of light tore through the square, brilliant and searing, carving a path through the masks like dawn breaking the night.
For one heartbeat, silence followed.
Even the storm seemed to pause.
The lieutenant didn't flinch.
He only inclined his head slightly, as though Ruo Han had just passed the first stage of some trial.
And then—he turned, melting back into the fire and snow.
Leaving behind only the ruin, the smoke, and Xiyue's hand still gripping Ruo Han's wrist, tight enough that his knuckles were white