The return journey to Lianhua was long, but for Zhang Wei, Pan Qiang, and Han Yu, it passed in a blur of exhaustion and quiet reflection. Their wounds had mostly mended during the week of recuperation at the remote outpost, yet the shadows of Iron Wolf Bao's death and the poisoned corpses of Minghe Village lingered in their hearts. Even when laughter occasionally broke through their silence, there was a weight behind their voices, a shared understanding that their path as cultivators had just grown darker.
At last, the glittering rooftops and tall walls of Shuiha, the capital of Lianhua, came into view. The city pulsed with life—vendors shouting in the streets, the clang of blacksmith hammers ringing from forges, soldiers marching in disciplined lines. Yet beneath the familiar bustle, the trio felt a subtle undercurrent, as though tension buzzed in the very air.
Escorted by guards, they were led straight into the royal palace. Prince Han Yu, though battered and weary from the trials at Minghe, stood tall as he bowed before his father, the King of Lianhua. The great hall shimmered with candlelight, and the king's stern gaze swept over his son and the two young cultivators who had accompanied him.
"Speak, Han Yu," the king said, his voice deep and steady, carrying the weight of command.
Han Yu lowered his head respectfully and began his report. He spoke clearly, leaving no detail untold—the poisoned villagers, the bandits in league with demons, Iron Wolf Bao's ferocity, and the sacrifice that led to the villain's downfall. He did not soften his words, nor did he claim the glory for himself. Every action of Zhang Wei, Pan Qiang, Yan Mo, Wu Sheng and Liu Qingyue was laid bare before the king.
When Han Yu finished, silence reigned. The king's brows furrowed as he tapped his finger on the armrest of his throne.
"Demons," he muttered at last, the word dripping with venom. "So they crawl out from the abyss once more…"
With a gesture, he summoned a messenger. "Call the elders. Summon the generals. This matter cannot be decided by myself alone."
Within the hour, the great meeting chamber filled with the most powerful figures of Lianhua. General Wu, clad in silver armor, stood near the front, his face stern but respectful. Elders of various sects, ministers, and advisors took their seats. When all were gathered, the king stood, his golden robes gleaming under the lamplight.
"My loyal subjects," he began, his tone heavy with gravity. "My son has returned with troubling news. The demons stir once again."
A murmur rippled through the chamber, but the king raised his hand, silencing them.
"Perhaps some of you have forgotten," the king continued, his voice echoing against the stone walls, "the last time demons walked freely upon our lands." His eyes grew distant, as though recalling a memory carved in blood and fire.
"They did not come as conquerors, not at first. They slithered through shadows, preying on travelers, devouring stragglers, sowing fear. We did not consider them a threat, not until they multiplied beyond counting. Towns were razed, villages massacred, entire cities swallowed in one night. Their cruelty was without limit, their hunger endless. For centuries, we bled.
"But heroes rose in those dark days. Sects, clans, wandering cultivators, and kings—sworn enemies laid aside their hatred to fight side by side. A war of centuries it became, but at last, the demons were driven back. They were forced into the abyss, sealed by blood and sacrifice, never to return again… or so we believed."
The king's voice hardened. "Yet now, traces of their corruption emerge once more. Minghe Village's tragedy is proof enough. If we dismiss this as coincidence, if we falter, we will invite a calamity that may end this kingdom."
Silence followed his words, the elders exchanging uneasy glances.
But the king was not finished. He turned his gaze toward General Wu, then back to his court. "And this is not our only concern. Reports have reached me that Hei'an… is preparing something vast. Their movements are hidden, but our spies whisper of armies gathering, of supplies being hoarded, of envoys disappearing. Lianhua must be ready, no matter what scheme Hei'an weaves."
A chill swept through the room. To battle demons was a nightmare; to battle demons and an ambitious neighboring nation was nearly unthinkable. Yet none dared voice despair.
The king dismissed the meeting with a wave. "You have your duties. Prepare the kingdom. Whatever comes, Lianhua must not fall."
When the chamber emptied, the trio finally withdrew. Relief washed over them as they escaped the heavy atmosphere of politics and war. Without speaking, their feet carried them to a familiar place—the quiet training grounds behind their sect compound.
There, beneath the swaying branches of old pines, they saw a figure already waiting. Yu Wenshan, their master, sat cross-legged on a wooden stool, sipping tea as though the world itself could not disturb his serenity. His robes were simple, yet the calm aura that emanated from him seemed to press against their hearts like the steady weight of a mountain.
He opened his eyes as they approached, sharp and clear as the morning sun.
"You've returned," Yu Wenshan said softly, setting his cup down. "Report. Tell me everything."
Though weary, the trio straightened their backs and recounted the tale once more—this time with even greater detail than what Han Yu had shared before the king. Yu Wenshan listened without interruption, his expression unreadable. But when Zhang Wei described the awakening of Pan Qiang's strange strength, his master's gaze sharpened.
"Titan Pulse…" Yu Wenshan murmured at last, stroking his beard. "So it has awakened." His eyes shifted to Pan Qiang. "That is no ordinary gift. Few in history have borne such a pulse, and fewer still have survived its awakening. It grants great strength, but it will demand a heavy price. Do not squander it, Pan Qiang."
Pan Qiang bowed deeply, sweat beading his brow despite the cool air. "Yes, Master."
Yu Wenshan's gaze swept to Zhang Wei and Pan Qiang. "And you two—your qi has deepened. Both of you have stepped into the Qi Gathering Realm. I expected progress, but not so swiftly. War has a cruel way of tempering the young."
The two lowered their heads, a mixture of pride and humility swelling in their chests.
After a moment of silence, Yu Wenshan stood, his robes rustling like whispers of wind. His gaze swept over the three, lingering briefly on Pan Qiang's faint golden glow and Zhang Wei's calm yet deepening qi.
"You have endured much," he said slowly, his tone as steady as a mountain. "Pan Qiang, your Titan Pulse has awakened, but your foundation is unstable. Zhang Wei, your healing arts and recent breakthroughs have shaken your qi sea as well. Both of you must take time to stabilize, or your future paths will suffer cracks that cannot be mended."
The two disciples lowered their heads in respect. They could feel it themselves—the swirling chaos within their meridians, power not yet fully under their control.
Then Yu Wenshan's eyes shifted toward Han Yu. His gaze sharpened, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "As for you, boy… the fires of battle have tempered your spirit. That bottleneck you carried for so long has loosened."
Han Yu blinked, then his breath hitched as he realized it—the circulation of qi within his dantian surged like a storm, the barrier that had hindered him trembling. Dropping to one knee, he immediately began to circulate his cultivation method. His qi roared through the courtyard like a raging tide, the barrier shattering with a soundless crash.
Boom!
Han Yu's aura erupted, rising higher and higher until it pressed against the walls of the sect itself. When the light dimmed, he exhaled a long breath, his presence now deeper, sharper, steadier.
"I…" Han Yu's voice trembled, but his eyes blazed with pride. "I've broken through… Upper Completion of Qi Gathering!"
Pan Qiang grinned through his exhaustion, slapping his brother-in-arms on the back. Zhang Wei smiled faintly, relief and pride softening his usually calm expression.
Yu Wenshan, however, remained composed, though the faint glimmer in his eyes betrayed his approval. He lifted his teacup once more, sipping before speaking.
"Good. All three of you stand on firmer ground now. This is as it should be. But remember—each battle will demand more from you, and the world will not grant endless time to recover."
He placed the cup down with deliberate weight, his gaze piercing like a blade.
"Take a rest for a week. Stabilize your cultivation, temper your bodies, and heal your wounds. When you are ready, return to me. I will give you a new task—one that carries danger, but also an opportunity to temper your strength further. Beyond trials lie the seeds of power. Beyond risks, the chance to step into realms few dare reach."
The trio bowed deeply, their hearts heavy with both respect and anticipation.
For now, they would rest. But soon, their blades would be tested again—and this time, the path ahead promised not only peril, but the chance to ascend higher than ever before.
A week passed swiftly. When they returned to Yu Wenshan's courtyard, their steps were steadier, their qi flowing more harmoniously, their eyes clearer.
Yu Wenshan awaited them as always, seated beneath the pavilion, tea steaming gently in his cup. He opened his eyes as they approached.
"You are ready."
The three disciples knelt before him.
"This mission," Yu Wenshan said, his voice dropping lower, "concerns not only your strength but your loyalty and wisdom. There is a family in the northern provinces—the Cang Family. They are not of royal blood, but for generations they have been loyal allies of Lianhua. They are wandering cultivators by heritage, once protectors of the borders, and their strength is not to be underestimated."
He paused, his gaze heavy.
"However, troubling whispers have reached Shuiha. There are claims that the Cang Family has turned their allegiance toward Hei'an."
Zhang Wei's brows furrowed. "If it's true, then Lianhua's northern defenses could collapse."
"Which is why," Yu Wenshan said, "you three will travel there. Investigate quietly. Learn the truth. If they remain loyal, report back and strengthen ties. But…" His eyes narrowed, cold as a blade. "If betrayal is confirmed, you must gather proof and, if the chance arises, cripple their schemes."
Pan Qiang clenched his fists. "A family that strong turning traitor… it won't be easy."
Han Yu's eyes gleamed with quiet resolve. "But if we succeed, it may be the key to Lianhua's survival."
Yu Wenshan gave a faint nod. "And more than that—this task will test your unity. The Cang Family estate is said to hold hidden cultivation grounds, ancient relics from their wandering days. Opportunities to temper yourselves will be found there… but only if you survive the dangers that lurk."
The air grew heavy as the weight of the mission settled upon them.
Zhang Wei bowed deeply, his voice calm yet resolute. "We will uncover the truth and return with answers."
Yu Wenshan closed his eyes once more, lifting his cup. "Good. Then go, my disciples. Remember—truth is a blade sharper than steel, and betrayal cuts deeper than any wound. Walk wisely."
The three disciples bowed in unison, the weight of destiny pressing heavily upon their shoulders.
Far beyond Shuiha, the Cang Family awaited—a clan of wandering cultivators shrouded in rumor, caught between loyalty and treachery. And within their halls, secrets slept that might decide not only the fate of Lianhua, but the path of the young disciples themselves.