The two gatekeepers stood frozen for a heartbeat after Haotian vanished, the lingering snap of golden lightning still buzzing in their ears. Then, almost in unison, they exchanged a wide-eyed look.
"We… need to report this," one whispered.
"No, we have to," the other corrected, already fumbling for the transmission talisman.
Within moments, their account was rushing through the sect's inner channels—how Haotian had left without hesitation, carrying the high elder's emblem, moving with a speed that could split the sky. By the time the message reached the higher peaks, it was no longer just an update—it was a spark that lit the elders' council into motion.
In the great hall, the atmosphere grew tense. The high elder of the Martial Hall stood at the center, his hands clasped behind his back, facing the Sect Master's calm yet probing gaze.
"You let him leave," the Sect Master's voice was quiet, but it cut like a blade.
"I did," the high elder replied without flinching. "Because this was not merely a mission to him—it was a matter of family. And… even if I had refused, I doubt we could have stopped him."
Murmurs rolled through the gathered elders, some in agreement, others in disapproval. The Sect Master's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more—only gestured for the council to proceed with its debate while the high elder remained standing in the storm of scrutiny.
Far from the echo of those voices, Haotian was already at the edge of the mission site.
The air was still, but it carried the faint tang of charred wood and spilled blood. His gaze swept across the trampled earth—broken branches, shattered weapon fragments, a few blackened scorch marks staining the ground. He knelt briefly, fingertips brushing the surface.
These marks are fresh… maybe two, three days old.
The trail led east, the prints pressed deeper into the soil as if the fight had grown more desperate. Without hesitation, he followed, weaving through the undergrowth until the trees thickened into a dense forest.
His steps quickened. The air here felt heavier, and with each trace he found—scattered arrows, torn cloth caught on bark, the faint shimmer of dried blood—his pulse sharpened.
By the time he spotted a broken spear haft lodged in the roots of an old tree, the edge of anxiety had turned into something hotter.
He surged forward, lightning threading along his legs, his senses locked on the path ahead.
Haotian's boots barely touched the forest floor as he streaked between the trees, each step crackling with restrained lightning. The shadows ahead shifted—a blur of movement in the distance. His sharp gaze caught the outlines of several figures weaving through the undergrowth, their pace urgent, their posture aggressive.
He closed the gap in a heartbeat.
The uniforms were not his own—dark crimson robes with jagged black trims, the sigil of a bloodied crescent moon emblazoned across the chest. Haotian's eyes narrowed. Not Burning Sun Sect…
In the same instant, a suspicion flared. Could they be tied to the disappearance?
Golden arcs flashed along his legs as he surged forward, appearing directly in front of them in a burst of air pressure that shook the leaves from nearby branches. The group skidded to a halt, their boots grinding into the soil.
One of them stepped forward, hand resting on his weapon hilt. "Who are you?"
Haotian didn't answer. His voice was cold, measured. "Have you seen any disciples from my sect nearby?"
They glanced at one another, eyes shifting to his robe—black and gold with the unmistakable emblem of the Burning Sun Sect. Smirks spread across their faces, followed by open laughter.
"The mighty Burning Sun Sect?" one sneered. "We are from the Bloodshade Moon Sect—the ones who put your precious 'sun' in eclipse."
Another chuckled darkly. "Your sect's as weak as ever. No wonder your people go missing."
Their words were all the confirmation Haotian needed. His eyes hardened, and before their mocking grins could fade, he was already moving.
A golden flash tore through the clearing.
The first man's head snapped back as Haotian's palm strike caved his chest in. Before the others could draw their weapons, arcs of lightning danced through the air, followed by the sound of bones breaking under precision strikes. In less than two breaths, five lay crumpled on the ground, lifeless.
Only one remained—wide-eyed, stumbling backward. Haotian's hand shot out, fingers clamping around the man's neck like an iron vice, lifting him from the ground. The disciple choked, clawing at Haotian's wrist.
"Where are they?" Haotian's tone left no room for lies.
The man's voice broke under panic. "W-We were sent… to reinforce another squad. They found… tamed Moonfang Tigers—one full-grown, one cub—with a group of your sect's disciples. Orders were to capture them. Even an elder was dispatched to join the hunt!"
Haotian's grip tightened. "And the disciples?"
"I-I don't know where they are now! We split after the—"
CRACK.
The man's body went limp as Haotian released his grip, letting him drop unceremoniously to the forest floor.
Without another glance, Haotian turned, his expression carved in stone. Lightning began to coil around his legs again as he launched deeper into the forest, his mind locked on one name.
Lianhua…
The forest grew denser, the canopy sealing out most of the sunlight until only dim green shadows danced across the mossy ground. Haotian moved like a whisper between the trees, his footsteps leaving no trace. Ahead, muffled voices broke the quiet—an uneven chorus of grunts, chuckles, and idle chatter.
He slowed, slipping behind the broad trunk of an ancient cedar, and peered through the gaps in the foliage.
The clearing ahead swarmed with crimson-and-black robed figures—Bloodshade Moon Sect disciples. Over forty of them stood in loose formation, weapons resting in their hands. At the forefront stood an older man with a weathered face and sharp, hawk-like eyes, his aura heavy and oppressive. The faint ripple of spiritual pressure told Haotian all he needed to know—Soul Transformation Realm.
Haotian lowered his stance, fingers brushing the dirt. He closed his eyes briefly, activating his Enhanced Hearing Technique. The world narrowed to sound—boots scuffing the earth, the creak of leather straps, the hiss of whispered exchanges. And then… a voice carried clearly from the front.
A younger disciple approached the elder, bowing slightly before speaking. "Elder, we've confirmed it. The group from the Burning Sun Sect is holed up just ahead—in a cave by the ridge. The Moonfang Tigers are with them. A full-grown female and a cub. They have nowhere to run."
A ripple of satisfaction ran through the crowd. The elder's lips curled into a cold smile. "Good. We'll move soon. The tigers will fetch a high price… and as for the Burning Sun brats, their fate will serve as a lesson."
Haotian's eyes snapped open.
The golden hue of his irises bled into a deep, burning crimson, an aura of killing intent swelling around him like a storm front. Lightning began to hum against his skin, snapping in tiny arcs that scorched the moss beneath his boots.
In the next heartbeat, he was airborne.
The first Bloodshade Moon Sect disciple never even saw him—one flash of golden light, and the man's body was hurled backward with his chest shattered. Haotian landed in the middle of the formation, Starforce coiling around his limbs, and unleashed hell.
BOOM.
His palm strike crushed one man's sternum, sending him collapsing like a puppet with cut strings.
CRACK.
A spinning kick shattered another's jaw, snapping his neck mid-rotation.
Golden arcs lanced through the air, tearing through multiple targets in a single sweep. His hands blurred—thrust, claw, sweep, crush—each motion a death sentence.
The clearing became chaos.
In less than three breaths, fourteen bodies lay crumpled on the ground, lifeless.
The Soul Transformation elder's eyes went wide, his momentary shock costing him precious seconds. By the time he gathered his spiritual energy and roared, Haotian was already turning toward him, the air between them vibrating under the weight of killing intent.
The elder's roar tore through the clearing, his spiritual pressure surging like a tidal wave as he lunged forward. The ground cracked under the force of his step, his palms glowing with a crimson-black radiance that twisted the air.
Haotian didn't flinch.
His stance shifted, weight low, shoulders loose—exactly as the Four Ancestors had drilled into him in those relentless years of Saint Realm tutelage. His every step was honed from battlefields that had devoured lesser men, his every movement the distilled essence of countless victories.
When they clashed, the shockwave ripped through the trees, sending leaves and dirt spiraling skyward. The elder's palms met Haotian's guard, but the younger man's counter was instantaneous—a sharp parry, a sidestep, and a palm strike that cracked the elder's ribs before the man could retreat.
The elder's expression twisted. Impossible… a Core Condensation junior?
His counterattacks came in a blur—claw strikes, sweeping arcs of spiritual force, and explosive bursts of killing intent. But Haotian's footwork danced through it all, sliding into blind angles and collapsing the elder's openings. Each strike he landed was surgical—ribs, joints, pressure points—each blow stealing more of the elder's strength.
Gasps and shouts rose from the surrounding Bloodshade Moon Sect disciples as the reality set in. A Core Condensation realm cultivator was overpowering their Soul Transformation elder. It wasn't a battle—it was a dismantling.
Haotian's eyes narrowed. Sparks crawled across his arms and shoulders. Then—crack—three bursts of golden light split from him, materializing into identical Lightning Clones that fanned outward in a lethal formation. Above, spheres of crackling lightning anchored in the air, their glow casting jagged shadows across the carnage-stained clearing.
"Kill them all."
In an instant, the clones blurred into the surrounding disciples, their strikes exploding with electric fury. The anchored spheres detonated in sequence, arcs of lightning tearing through bodies with the smell of burning flesh and ozone. Screams ripped through the chaos, cut short as the clearing became a killing field.
Haotian didn't even look back. He drove forward, closing the gap between himself and the elder in a single burst step. His fist slammed into the elder's chest with a thunderous BOOM, the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the man's ribcage.
Nine elemental forces surged from Haotian's arm—flame, ice, lightning, earth, wind, light, shadow, metal, and wood—pouring into the elder's meridians like a tidal wave of poison. The elder staggered back, coughing blood in thick, wet splashes, his aura unraveling at the edges.
He dropped to one knee, then both, his face contorting as he tried to marshal his spiritual power. But the elements rampaged through his body like rabid beasts, tearing apart his channels, snapping open internal seals, and crushing his dantian. His spiritual core shattered with a soundless snap, and the light in his eyes dimmed in disbelief.
Haotian's shadow fell over him.
"This," he said coldly, raising his foot, "is for your greed… to dare touch what's mine."
His heel came down like the fall of a mountain. The elder's skull exploded beneath the strike, fragments and blood splattering the broken earth. The body slumped sideways, lifeless.
Haotian straightened, scanning the clearing. Every other Bloodshade Moon Sect disciple had been annihilated—either torn apart by lightning or cut down by his clones before they dispersed. Smoke curled from scorched patches of grass, and the air reeked of blood and ozone.
He exhaled slowly, letting the crimson fade from his eyes. Then his gaze fell on the elder's hand—a glint of silver and black. A spatial storage ring.
He bent down, prying it free. With its owner dead, the spiritual mark had dissolved, leaving it ownerless. Haotian slid it onto his finger and sent his spiritual sense inside.
Rows upon rows of treasures gleamed in the pocket dimension—jade boxes, spirit herbs, weapon racks, and a neat stack of cultivation manuals bearing the Bloodshade Moon Sect's seal. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest.
Without another glance at the corpses, he turned, vanishing into the trees. The cave was close now… and the real reason he had come here was waiting within.
The echo of slaughter still lingered in the air—shredded leaves tumbling in the drifting haze of burnt ozone, the copper scent of blood hanging heavy over the forest.
Inside the cave, Lianhua and the injured Burning Sun Sect disciples froze where they sat. The deafening roars, the shrieks, the tearing of flesh and bone, the thunderclaps that shook the earth… all of it had stopped in an instant.
Only silence remained.
They exchanged wary glances, tension wound so tight it was almost suffocating. Then, faintly at first, they heard it—a single set of footsteps approaching, steady and unhurried, crushing twigs beneath them.
Lianhua swallowed. Her hand tightened on the hilt of her blade despite the streak of blood on her lips and the deep ache in her ribs. She stepped toward the cave mouth, leaning on the wall for balance.
The moment she emerged into the daylight, the golden arcs flashed.
A voice thundered across the clearing.
"Lianhua!"
She looked up—and her breath caught.
Haotian landed before her in a burst of light and wind, his robes flickering with residual lightning. His eyes—calm yet carrying the weight of something savage—met hers.
"Haotian…"
She didn't think, didn't hesitate. She ran to him, ignoring the pull of torn muscles, and threw herself into his arms. Tears burst free the moment she felt the solid warmth of him, the familiar scent of ozone clinging to his clothes.
He caught her, holding her tightly, one arm firm around her back, the other steadying her head against his chest. For a brief moment, the forest, the blood, the pain—it all faded.
When they parted, her eyes glistened under the dim light filtering through the canopy. His hand rose, brushing her tears away with a touch gentler than his battlefield wrath could have suggested.
"It's over," he murmured. "You're safe now."
Behind her, the other disciples—bloodied, bandaged, but alive—stepped into the light.
"Young master!" they called, relief breaking through their exhaustion.
Lianhua, still catching her breath, asked in a strained whisper, "How… how did you find us?"
His gaze sharpened. "Bloodshade Moon Sect disciples," he said evenly. "I caught one alive. He told me everything—the hunt for the Moonfang tigers… and the trap for you." He glanced toward the tree line, his voice dropping an octave. "Their elder was here too."
A pause.
"But they won't trouble you again. I killed them all."
The words struck the group like a physical blow. Even through the exhaustion, their eyes widened—Core Condensation killing a Soul Transformation elder was the stuff of rumors, not reality.
Lianhua's hands moved over his shoulders, down his arms, searching for wounds.
"You're not hurt?"
"No." He gave a faint smile. "Not a scratch."
Her eyes softened—then widened slightly as he reached up, thumb brushing the blood from the corner of her mouth. Without a word, he summoned a small bottle from his spatial ring. The faint scent of rare herbs filled the air as he uncorked it.
"Here," he said, shaking out several smooth, pale pills. "Take these and rest. They'll heal you faster."
He moved among them, distributing the pills with the same calm efficiency he used in battle. Each disciple received one, murmuring their thanks before sitting to recover.
When he returned to Lianhua's side, he straightened, scanning the forest beyond. "Stay here. I need to… clean up."
She hesitated, her hand tightening briefly on his sleeve. "…Be careful."
His smile came quick and sure this time. "Always."
And then—crack!—a flash of gold split the air, and he was gone, leaving only the swaying branches and the quiet thrum of power where he'd stood.
The forest still reeked of blood when Haotian returned to the site of the earlier battle. His instincts had been right—three Bloodshade Moon Sect disciples lingered, stragglers arriving late to the slaughter.
He appeared before them in a burst of golden arcs, the air cracking like thunder. They barely had time to register the blur of his movement before his palms slammed into their chests.
BOOM—CRACK!
Energy erupted through their torsos, bursting out their backs in sprays of crimson. All three dropped lifeless to the ground before a single scream could leave their lips.
Haotian exhaled once, his gaze sweeping over the corpses. Without hesitation, he knelt beside the first body, stripping it of its emblem, weapon, talismans, and armor—even damaged pieces went into his spatial ring for future repair. The second and third were given the same treatment, each yielding more loot: spirit crystals, concealed daggers, and a total of ten spatial rings brimming with treasures and cultivation resources.
Once everything of value was taken, Haotian summoned his Yang Fire.
Fwoooosh!
Golden flames roared to life in his palms, engulfing the corpses in searing heat. Flesh blackened and bone turned to ash in moments. He moved methodically, ensuring no remains could be identified. Then, channeling his Earth and Wood elements, he reshaped the ground, smoothing disturbed soil, reweaving crushed grass, and coaxing fallen branches to grow anew. Within moments, the forest floor appeared untouched, as though no battle had ever occurred here.
But he wasn't done. He flashed away toward the site of his earlier massacre.
One by one, the charred and mangled remains of the first group of Bloodshade Moon Sect disciples met the same fate—valuables stripped, bodies burned, and the earth healed of every trace of blood and struggle. By the time he finished, there was nothing left to betray that forty men and a Soul Transformation elder had died here.
Satisfied, Haotian turned toward the distant cave.
He emerged from the forest in a flicker of golden light, reappearing before Lianhua and the surviving Burning Sun Sect members. Lianhua, still resting with the healing pill he had given her, looked up first—relief washing across her face.
"You're back," she said softly.
Haotian gave her a small smile and a nod. "It's done. No one will know what happened here."
The tension in the air broke. Lianhua exhaled in visible relief, and the others relaxed, their gazes filled with gratitude and awe as Haotian settled beside them.
The cave's stillness was a welcome contrast to the carnage Haotian had left behind. Shadows from the flickering firelight danced across the stone walls, the flames crackling softly as he adjusted the kindling. He had positioned the blaze near a natural gap in the rock ceiling, ensuring the smoke escaped into the night without choking the chamber.
Thanks to Yueying and Xiaoque's earlier work, the cave felt almost like a shelter prepared in advance. Flat stones had been arranged for seating, cloaks hung along the inner wall to block stray drafts, and faint traces of herbal incense masked the scent of damp rock. The air carried a steady warmth, the fire's glow drawing everyone toward its comfort.
But the scent of food would be what truly revived them. Haotian slipped into the forest, moving like a shadow through the undergrowth. Within half an hour, he returned with two plump wild birds and a snow-furred rabbit dangling from his grip. Without a word, he set to work—cleaning, skewering, and seasoning the meat with crushed herbs from his pouch. Soon, the smell of roasting flesh filled the chamber, rich and savory, making stomachs growl all around the fire.
By the time the skins crisped to a golden sheen, the group was leaning forward in anticipation. Haotian carved generous portions, handing them out until each person held steaming meat between their fingers. The first bites brought visible relief—after days of running, hiding, and starving under pursuit from the Bloodshade Moon Sect, it was a feast worth savoring.
When the last scraps were gone and the fire had settled into a steady, low burn, Haotian's voice broke the quiet.
"Rest," he said, his tone firm but gentle. "I'll keep watch. You've all pushed yourselves far enough. Sleep."
There was no argument. Their exhaustion was written in every slow movement and heavy blink. Lianhua lingered a moment, her gaze meeting his across the fire. She smiled faintly—something quiet and grateful—before curling up beside Xiaoque.
Soon, the sound of steady breathing filled the cave, broken only by the occasional pop of the firewood. Outside, the forest whispered under the cold night wind, but inside, under Haotian's watch, the group finally knew peace.
The night passed without incident. The forest outside the cave was silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Inside, the fire burned low, its embers glowing faintly in the dark while a gentle warmth lingered in the air.
Haotian sat unmoving through the hours, the steady rhythm of his breathing in perfect harmony with the Solar Verdant Flame Codex's circulation pattern. By the time the first blush of dawn crept into the cave, a faint golden shimmer lingered along his skin—sign of his progress. He opened his eyes, a quiet satisfaction in them. Minor success. Not a bad start for one night's work.
A soft sound of movement drew his attention. He turned his head to see Lianhua slowly sitting up, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes still hazy. When their gazes met, he gave her a small, warm smile. She caught it instantly, her lips curving in return before she rose and crossed the short distance to him. Without a word, she settled at his side and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I thought…" her voice was quiet, carrying the weight of nights spent wondering, "…I wouldn't be able to see you again."
Haotian froze at the words, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes. Then he shook his head slightly. "Something was wrong. I could feel it."
He told her everything—how he had gone to the mission hall, requested permission to search for them, and how that request had been denied. How, in his anger, he had even attacked the high elder of the martial hall. How, in the end, he'd been granted permission to leave, though it was clear it had taken force of will and sheer defiance to make it happen.
Lianhua's head lifted, her eyes wide. "You… attacked the high elder?"
He nodded without hesitation. "If they hadn't allowed me to go, I would've massacred my way out of the sect to find you."
For a moment she just stared at him—then a faint blush crept into her cheeks. The idea that he would fight, kill, and even risk exile just to reach her made her heart beat faster. She looked away with a small smile before leaning back against his shoulder.
"Well… good thing you didn't," she murmured, "otherwise we wouldn't have any way to return to the sect."
He chuckled softly at that, slipping his arm around her back and pulling her a little closer. Together, they sat in silence, watching the golden edge of the sun rise above the distant tree line.
Behind them, deeper in the cave, the guards had already stirred. None dared to move. Two of them had tears of frustration in their eyes from sitting in cramped positions for so long.
"When… can we get up?" one of them whispered.
A female voice hissed back, "Not yet. Don't ruin the moment for those two."
The guards groaned quietly, but stayed where they were, resigned to their fate.
The night passed without incident. The forest outside the cave was silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Inside, the fire burned low, its embers glowing faintly in the dark while a gentle warmth lingered in the air.
Haotian sat unmoving through the hours, the steady rhythm of his breathing in perfect harmony with the Solar Verdant Flame Codex's circulation pattern. By the time the first blush of dawn crept into the cave, a faint golden shimmer lingered along his skin—sign of his progress. He opened his eyes, a quiet satisfaction in them. Minor success. Not a bad start for one night's work.
A soft sound of movement drew his attention. He turned his head to see Lianhua slowly sitting up, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes still hazy. When their gazes met, he gave her a small, warm smile. She caught it instantly, her lips curving in return before she rose and crossed the short distance to him. Without a word, she settled at his side and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I thought…" her voice was quiet, carrying the weight of nights spent wondering, "…I wouldn't be able to see you again."
Haotian froze at the words, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes. Then he shook his head slightly. "Something was wrong. I could feel it."
He told her everything—how he had gone to the mission hall, requested permission to search for them, and how that request had been denied. How, in his anger, he had even attacked the director of the martial hall. How, in the end, he'd been granted permission to leave, though it was clear it had taken force of will and sheer defiance to make it happen.
Lianhua's head lifted, her eyes wide. "You… attacked the director?"
He nodded without hesitation. "If they hadn't allowed me to go, I would've massacred my way out of the sect to find you."
For a moment she just stared at him—then a faint blush crept into her cheeks. The idea that he would fight, kill, and even risk exile just to reach her made her heart beat faster. She looked away with a small smile before leaning back against his shoulder.
"Well… good thing you didn't," she murmured, "otherwise we wouldn't have any way to return to the sect."
He chuckled softly at that, slipping his arm around her back and pulling her a little closer. Together, they sat in silence, watching the golden edge of the sun rise above the distant tree line.
Behind them, deeper in the cave, the guards had already stirred. None dared to move. Two of them had tears of frustration in their eyes from sitting in cramped positions for so long.
"When… can we get up?" one of them whispered.
A female voice hissed back, "Not yet. Don't ruin the moment for those two."
The guards groaned quietly, but stayed where they were, resigned to their fate.
Eventually, as the sun climbed higher, the two of them rose, the warmth of the dawn still lingering between them. Outside, the forest trail was quiet and bathed in golden light as the group prepared to depart.
The journey back was calm and uneventful. Along the way, Haotian asked about their mission. The team explained that they had already completed it—but on their return, they encountered disciples of the Bloodshade Moon Sect. Those disciples had been greedy, attempting to take Yueying and Xiaoque for themselves.
Haotian listened, his expression unreadable before he gave a single nod of understanding.
One day later, the party approached the towering gates of the sect. Presenting their sect emblems, they were allowed entry without delay. Yet, as they passed through, one of the gate disciples stepped forward.
"Senior Brother Haotian—after you've settled in, report to the Sect Master."
The words carried no malice, but Haotian knew his earlier actions would not go unnoticed. Trouble was inevitable—but he was prepared for it.
Beside him, Lianhua glanced over, worry clouding her expression. He caught it and offered her a small, steady smile. "It'll be fine."
Without lingering, he turned toward the main peak. The grand stone steps rose ahead of him, leading to the sect's main hall—a structure of towering pillars, carved beams, and banners rippling gently in the mountain wind.
Inside, the air was heavy with authority. The Sect Master sat upon the central dais, elders flanking him on either side, their gazes sharp and assessing.
Haotian approached in measured steps, the echo of his boots resounding in the vast chamber. When he reached the center of the hall, he cupped his hands and bowed deeply.
"Disciple Haotian greets the Sect Master and esteemed elders."
The hall fell into stillness, awaiting the words that would follow.
The words carried no malice, but Haotian knew his earlier actions would not go unnoticed. Trouble was inevitable—but he was prepared for it.
Beside him, Lianhua glanced over, worry clouding her expression. He caught it and offered her a small, steady smile. "It'll be fine."
Without lingering, he turned toward the main peak. The grand stone steps rose ahead of him, leading to the sect's main hall—a structure of towering pillars, carved beams, and banners rippling gently in the mountain wind.
Inside, the air was heavy with authority. The Sect Master sat upon the central dais, elders flanking him on either side, their gazes sharp and assessing.
Haotian approached in measured steps, the echo of his boots resounding in the vast chamber. When he reached the center of the hall, he cupped his hands and bowed deeply.
"Disciple Haotian greets the Sect Master and esteemed elders."
The hall fell into stillness, awaiting the words that would follow.