The forest path back to the Outer Sect stretched endlessly, the fog curling like silent serpents around the dense trees. Every step felt heavier than the last, weighed down not by fatigue alone but by the thoughts gnawing at Lu Mao. The relic rested securely beneath his robes, yet his mind was far from at ease.
The mission had been a success—objectives completed, mercenaries neutralized—but the memory of the clash replayed vividly in his mind. Every move, every technique executed with flawless timing, yet chaos had reigned at the edges. And then there was Zhang Wei.
The senior had been left behind, sprawled unconscious on the forest floor, abandoned by his fleeing men. Lu Mao had made no effort to strike him further; he hadn't wanted to kill. But the sheer force of Wind Fist in a confined space… it was impossible to control perfectly.
Chen Yuan, walking beside him, broke the tense silence. "I still can't believe we did it. All of us… Martial Disciples, working together like this. It feels unreal."
Bao Fu, rubbing his arms nervously, muttered, "Yeah, unreal… and terrifying. Especially when I thought Zhang Wei was going to jump on me mid-fight."
Yan Mei's gaze remained fixed ahead, sharp as a blade. "Focus on the mission, not your fear. Our survival and the relic depends on control and precision, not hindsight regrets."
Lu Mao's fingers flexed at his side, the faint golden shimmer of his Qi still restless beneath his skin. The golden-black vein inside him pulsed with quiet satisfaction, as though mocking the effort it had taken to suppress his strike earlier. He kept his expression calm, concealing the storm that lingered in his meridians.
The forest seemed unnervingly quiet, the mist thickening with every step. Birds flitted between branches, their calls faint and cautious. The jungle had been alive with danger yesterday, every shadow a potential threat. Now, all that remained was the weight of responsibility pressing down on Lu Mao's chest.
Finally, the towering gates of the Outer Sect appeared through the haze, carved with centuries-old insignias that spoke of legacy, discipline, and ruthless standards. Li Xian awaited them in the courtyard, her silver robes shimmering faintly in the late afternoon light. Her posture radiated authority, and her sharp eyes seemed to pierce straight through their souls.
Lu Mao stepped forward, the relic secured beneath his robes. He bowed respectfully, his voice steady. "Mission complete, Senior. The relic has been retrieved. The mercenaries neutralized. Zhang Wei… is unconscious, left behind by his men."
Li Xian's eyes narrowed, sharp and cold. "Explain why blood had to be drawn. One of your objectives was neutralization, not unnecessary harm. And yet someone was left in a dangerous state. Why?"
Lu Mao exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I couldn't control the strength of Wind Fist during the fight. The mercenaries were closing in, and Zhang Wei—he interfered. My attack… my technique has too much raw force. I had no choice but to incapacitate him to prevent greater casualties."
Bao Fu shuffled uncomfortably beside him. "I still can't believe it. He's going to wake up and… well, he's going to be mad. Very, very mad."
Chen Yuan's face was stern. "That's not our concern right now. The mission succeeded. That is what matters. We survived. The relic is secured. And Zhang Wei is alive."
Yan Mei's gaze lingered on Lu Mao, calm but piercing. "Control is everything. You must refine your technique before your next engagement. Strength without precision is a liability."
Li Xian studied him for a long moment, the sharp lines of her face softening slightly. She took the relic from him, examining it with practiced precision. The ornate box glimmered faintly, emanating a subtle aura of power that confirmed its value.
"This will be reported to Master Shen Mu," Li Xian said finally, her voice low but unwavering. "I will handle the rest. You four will rest and refine your techniques. Do not let raw emotion dictate your actions. The Clan has its rules, and every choice carries consequences."
Lu Mao inclined his head, acknowledging her command. His thoughts drifted momentarily to Zhang Wei. The senior would awaken eventually, furious and full of resentment. That confrontation would be inevitable, but he could not afford distraction now. Strength and mastery had to come first.
As the four disciples returned to their dormitory, the sunset painted the Outer Sect in crimson and gold. The light filtered through the leaves, casting long shadows that danced across the ground. It was peaceful in appearance, but beneath the calm lay the latent tension of growth, power, and the heavy cost of battle.
Inside the dormitory, Lu Mao placed the relic carefully on the table. He turned to his teammates, watching as Chen Yuan, Bao Fu, and Yan Mei settled into their usual positions.
"Rest for tonight," Lu Mao said softly. "Tomorrow, we refine. The next step won't be easier."
Chen Yuan nodded. "Agreed. But… do you think Zhang Wei will come after us?"
Lu Mao's black eyes flickered. "Eventually. But by then… we'll be ready. He won't be the same obstacle he is today."
Bao Fu groaned. "I just hope he doesn't explode before then. The guy's temper is legendary."
Yan Mei's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Tempers are irrelevant. Control is everything. We must refine faster than any rival, or we will fall."
Lu Mao smirked faintly, already feeling the familiar surge of energy from the silver vault within his inner world. Techniques pulsed at his fingertips, waiting to be mastered, waiting to be molded by his will. The Wind Fist, Eyes of the Hawk, Shadow Steps, Phantom Veil, Doppelgänger, Phantom Double—they all awaited refinement. Each technique was a key to survival, to supremacy, and to uncovering the secrets locked deep within the relics and vaults of the world.
And in the shadows of the Outer Sect, unseen and unacknowledged by any of the other disciples, Li Xian watched the four from a distance. Her eyes gleamed faintly, her lips curling into the faintest smile. She knew the risks Lu Mao had taken, the power he had displayed, and the consequences that would inevitably follow. Yet, in her estimation, he had done exactly what a true disciple of the Thief Clan should do. Calculated, decisive, and unflinchingly bold.
"They've grown," she whispered to herself. "Faster than I anticipated. But speed alone is never enough… and I will make sure the boy learns control before the next step. The world is full of shadows, and even the strongest can be devoured if they stray."