The heavy jade gate of the Sacred Mountain didn't just close; it slammed down with a finality that made the ground skip. On the other side of that slab of white stone, the Mist Forest was officially gone for the next sixty years.
Xiao Yan lay flat on his back in the grass of the Outer Peaks. His lungs felt like they were filled with hot sand, and his skin was humming with a weird, numb buzz from the Azure Dragon's energy. He stared at the stars, which looked surprisingly normal and boring compared to the red-lit chaos he'd just escaped.
"Is... everyone... breathing?" he managed to choke out.
"Barely," Lieya grunted. She was sitting a few feet away, her hair a bird's nest of twigs and soot. She looked at her hands—they were shaking. "I think my fire is broken. I feel like a cold furnace."
Jinyao was already on her knees, her hands glowing with a faint, flickering green light. She crawled toward Xiao Yan, her face pale. "Don't move. Your ribs are a mess. Just... stay still, Brother Yan."
"I'm fine, Jinyao," he said, even though every time he took a breath, it felt like someone was stabbing him with a fork. "Really. It's just... a scratch."
"A scratch? You flew through a jade door," Tang Shuya said, standing up and dusting off her ruined robes. She looked at him, and for a second, that sharp, arrogant "Genius" mask slipped. Her eyes were soft, almost worried, before she blinked and looked away. "You're lucky to be alive, you idiot."
The Reception
The peace didn't last long. From the base of the peaks, dozens of figures were already rushing up. These weren't students; they were the adults. Sect elders in flowing robes, family guards in heavy armor, and representatives from the various empires. They had been waiting for the gates to close, and they looked hungry for news—and survivors.
"Lieya! Over here!"
A tall man with broad shoulders and a face like a stone wall—Shi Lieya's father—marched through the crowd. He didn't look relieved; he looked like he was checking his equipment for damage. He grabbed Lieya by the arm and hauled her up.
"Father! Wait, Xiao Yan saved—"
"Enough," the man barked. "The mountain is closed. The results are being tallied. You're coming back to the Iron Mountain. We have a lot of work to do before the Eternal Gate Academy opens its doors."
Lieya looked back at Xiao Yan, her expression a mix of frustration and genuine sadness. "Xiao Yan! Don't you dare get killed while I'm gone! I still owe you for the spider cave!"
She was dragged away, her orange flames flickering weakly in the dark.
The Tang Family's Move
Tang Shuya stood there for a moment, her fan gripped tightly in her hand. A group of black-robed guards from the Tang Clan approached her, bowing low.
"Miss Shuya, the carriage is waiting," the lead guard said. "The Clan Head is anxious to hear about the Forbidden Zone."
Shuya didn't move. She looked at Xiao Yan, who was struggling to sit up while Jinyao fussed over him. She felt a weird pang in her chest. For years, she'd been told that she was the center of the world, that everyone else was just a stepping stone. But Xiao Yan... he'd been a wall. A wall that kept her safe when the world went purple and loud.
"Xiao Yan," she said, her voice dropping so the guards couldn't hear. "The Academy trials are in two months. Don't think because you hit the 12th stage you're safe. The Academy... it's not like the mountain. It's a snake pit."
She paused, then reached into her sleeve and tossed him a small, jade token. "If you find yourself in the Capital and you're not dead in a ditch... use that. It'll get you a meal. And maybe a clean shirt. You look like a beggar."
"Thanks, Miss Tang," Xiao Yan grinned, catching the token. "I'll try not to lose it."
She gave him one last, long look—the kind of look that said way more than her words—and then she was gone, surrounded by her guards.
The Final Split
Finally, a group from Jinyao's sect arrived. They were gentler, but just as firm. They took Jinyao, who cried as she was pulled away, promising to send him healing pills as soon as she could.
Xiao Yan stood alone on the grassy slope. Even Shi Wuheng had vanished, likely slinking off to find his family and make up a story about how he "almost" killed the demons.
Xiao Yan looked around. The bustling crowd was thinning. Families were reuniting, people were crying over lost disciples, and the air was filled with the smell of expensive incense and carriage horses.
Nobody came for him. No elders, no guards, no proud fathers.
"Well," Xiao Yan muttered, feeling the cold night wind bite into his scorched skin. "That went well."
[Master, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're technically homeless,] Michael's voice chirped in his head. [And your energy reserves are at roughly 3%. If a stray dog attacks us right now, my money is on the dog.]
"Shut up, Michael," Xiao Yan grunted. He looked down at his hands. They were covered in soot and demon blood. He thought about the Azure Dragon sleeping in his soul, and the Siblings waiting for him back at the city.
He didn't have a sect. He didn't have a family backing him. He just had a heavy sword, a grumpy dragon, and a target on his back from the Demon Realm.
"Two months," he whispered. "Two months to get ready for the Academy."
He turned away from the lights of the celebration and started walking down the dark side of the peak. He didn't need a carriage. He needed a place to bleed, to heal, and to get stronger. The Ash-Born Prince was done running—it was time to start climbing.
To be continued!!!