The final destination was Mount Hua, the family of reclusive caretakers of the highlands. Their temple sat above the clouds, accessible only by a winding stone staircase lined with wild orchids. The carved statue of the god of fertility rested within their ancestral shrine, a relic said to bless the barren land with life.
When Jaha arrived, he was greeted not with hostility but hesitation. The monks here were familiar with the Blood Moon Sect by reputation. They whispered its name like a warning, a story mothers told their sons not to anger. They were a powerful sect not to be trifled with.
The abbot approached, a frail old man with sunken eyes and a trembling voice. "You come for the statue, don't you?"
"Yes," Jaha replied, bowing slightly. "I would prefer to take it peacefully."
The abbot studied him for a long time before nodding. "You are not a man of peace."
Jaha's lips curved faintly. "No. But I respect it."
