The night sky above the Martial Realm carried a cold clarity after the slaughter of the labyrinth. Stars glittered like the distant eyes of immortals, watching as sect disciples either stumbled home broken or failed to return at all. That endless maze had claimed its toll—a harvest of blood and bone, where only the bold or fortunate returned alive.
For the disciples of the Black Dragon Faction, the weight of that truth lingered on their shoulders as they stepped through the ancient gates of their sect.
The faction's mountain halls, once dilapidated and nearly crumbled into ruin, now shone with faint grandeur. Li Xian's steady leadership and Shen Mu's quiet, unyielding hand had rebuilt what was once a dying home. Rich spiritual jade lined the paths, lanterns of glimmer crystal glowed softly along the stone stairways, and cultivation arrays shimmered faintly in the sect's courtyards.
The fortune of the Amber Viper's stolen pills, auctioned discreetly by Lu Mao in months prior, had brought this revival. The Black Dragon, once a faction that other sects sneered at, now stood as a rising flame—a small force, yes, but one with undeniable resources and ambition.
At the sect's grand stair, two figures waited under the lantern glow: Chen Yuan and Yan Mei. Both were clad in their black robes embroidered with faint dragon motifs, pacing restlessly. News of the labyrinth's devastation had already swept through the realm. Rumors told of entire factions crippled, disciples slaughtered, and treasures lost to shadows.
"Too long…" Yan Mei murmured, her delicate hands clenched together. Her clear eyes searched the mountain road below with a desperation that betrayed her usual composure. Her heart beat faster with every breath.
Chen Yuan, taller and sturdier, frowned. "They'll return. Bao Fu, Lu Mao, Senior Sister Li Xian—they are not reckless. Still…" His voice faltered. He knew how many factions had sent their best—and how many had perished. The odds had been grim from the start.
Then, through the mist curling at the base of the mountain road, three silhouettes emerged. One carried a calm confidence, another bore a senior's grace, and the last trailed slightly behind, his frame familiar yet steady.
Lu Mao. Li Xian. Bao Fu.
They had returned.
Yan Mei's breath caught. Without a thought, she sprinted forward, black robes fluttering like a swallow through the night. When she reached Lu Mao, she threw her arms around him, clutching tightly as though afraid he might dissolve into mist.
"You're back," her voice cracked, trembling with both relief and anger. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
Lu Mao stiffened for a heartbeat—surprised, caught between the warmth of her embrace and the sharp weight of her words. Slowly, his hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder, his lips curving faintly. "I promised I'd return, didn't I?" His voice carried its usual calm, but in his eyes a flicker of warmth betrayed him.
From behind, Li Xian watched silently. Her golden eyes narrowed just slightly, her lips tightening. The faintest ripple of something—displeasure? jealousy?—passed through her, but it was gone as swiftly as it came, replaced with her usual cool composure. She said nothing, only adjusted her robes and stepped past them with quiet dignity.
Chen Yuan approached with a grin, clapping Lu Mao on the shoulder. "We were ready to storm the labyrinth ourselves if you didn't show by dawn," he said, though his eyes betrayed his own relief. "It's good you made it back, brother."
Bao Fu, though weary, smirked. "Of course we did. Though I didn't set foot in the maze itself, I saw enough treasures to choke a dragon. You wouldn't believe the mountain they hauled out."
Chen Yuan raised a brow. "And you didn't faint again, did you?"
Bao Fu scowled. "Once. That was enough. And it was only because of the sheer… absurdity of it all."
The group shared faint laughter, though the weight of what they carried hung heavy in the air.
"Come," Li Xian finally spoke, her voice quiet but commanding. "Master Shen Mu is waiting."
Within the reconstructed Black Dragon Hall, Master Shen Mu sat upon the central dais. His frame was slender, his hair streaked with silver, yet his aura carried an immovable depth. Though no elders remained in the faction, his presence alone anchored it like a mountain amid storm winds.
The hall was empty save for the chosen few—Li Xian, Lu Mao, Bao Fu, Chen Yuan, Yan Mei. No one else had the right to witness what was about to unfold. Matters of treasures and spoils from the labyrinth were too dangerous, too precious to be laid bare before the many.
As the five disciples stepped inside, the hall's lanterns flared, casting warm light across polished stone.
Shen Mu's eyes lingered on them each in turn. At last, he nodded faintly. "You return alive. That alone places you above most who dared the labyrinth. Sit."
They obeyed, kneeling upon the mats before him.
Li Xian stepped forward first, bowing deeply. "Master, the raid succeeded beyond expectation. Though dangers were many, through the wit of Lu Mao and the combined efforts of our allies, we secured nearly a hundred treasures. A feat no other faction has achieved."
Her words hung in the air like thunder. Even though Shen Mu's expression barely shifted, the faint gleam in his eyes betrayed his astonishment.
"One hundred treasures…" he murmured. "Even in the days when Black Dragon stood tall, such a harvest was unseen."
At his gesture, Lu Mao and Li Xian activated their spatial rings. One by one, treasures began to materialize in the center of the hall. Weapons with hidden spirits gleamed in the torchlight, scrolls rustled as if whispering forgotten secrets, vials of pill essence shimmered with contained potency.
Chen Yuan and Yan Mei both inhaled sharply. They had imagined riches—but what lay before them defied imagination.
Bao Fu crossed his arms smugly, though his eyes still widened at the display. "See? I told you."
Shen Mu studied the mountain of relics, his gaze thoughtful. "Fate has smiled on our Black Dragon. With these… our disciples will wield blades sharper than their foes, cultivate faster than before, and stand prouder before our rivals. The path ahead has shifted."
Li Xian inclined her head. "Master, as agreed during the raid, each participant has already chosen treasures resonant with their cultivation. Lu Mao and I have selected five each. The remainder is offered to the faction treasury."
Shen Mu's eyes flickered to Lu Mao. "You already chose, then?"
Lu Mao bowed respectfully. "Yes, Master. What I selected will aid my path. I require no more."
A faint smile touched Shen Mu's lips. "Then let the rest strengthen our roots."
His gaze turned then to Chen Yuan, Yan Mei, and Bao Fu. "You three did not raid, yet you remain the blood of this faction. For your loyalty and survival, you may each choose two treasures. Select wisely—what you choose will shape your cultivation paths."
The three younger disciples moved forward hesitantly, their hearts pounding.
Yan Mei's eyes glimmered as she walked among the relics. Her hand hovered over scrolls and blades until she stopped before a slender jade flute, carved with phoenix motifs. She touched it gently, and a clear note rang softly in the air, carrying a soothing yet commanding force.
"This one," she whispered. "Its resonance… it calms the spirit and disrupts qi. It will aid me in both cultivation and battle." She placed it into her ring. For her second choice, she selected a crimson silk sash, faint inscriptions woven within. When she wrapped it around her wrist, the air stirred faintly, as though her speed might double with its use.
Chen Yuan, practical and steady, chose differently. His hand fell on a steel gauntlet set, etched with runes that bolstered raw strength. When he slipped them on, a low hum vibrated, amplifying the density of his qi. For his second, he claimed a jade tablet of defensive formations, one that could project protective barriers in emergencies.
Bao Fu lingered the longest. His eyes darted over weapons, relics, scrolls—overwhelmed. At last, he settled on a small black orb, faintly glowing. It pulsed softly, drinking in qi from the air. "This one… it feels alive," he muttered. Shen Mu's eyes narrowed with interest but gave no objection. For his second, Bao Fu chose a short dagger inlaid with lightning runes, its edge faintly crackling.
When the three had chosen, they bowed low.
"Good," Shen Mu said, his voice calm but firm. "Each treasure now belongs to its wielder. But remember: a weapon is only as strong as its master. Cultivate without arrogance. Grow without haste. The Black Dragon rises again, and it will rise on your shoulders."
The disciples echoed in unison: "Yes, Master!"
As the hall quieted, Lu Mao's hand brushed his spatial ring unconsciously. Deep within his dantian, in the hidden folds of his inner world vault, the obsidian figurine pulsed faintly. A cat of black stone, its eyes sealed, its aura mysterious. No one here knew of it—not Shen Mu, not Li Xian, not even Bao Fu who had seen treasures earlier.
It was his alone. His secret.
He lowered his gaze, lips curving faintly. Some things are meant to remain hidden… until the time is right.
When all was settled, Shen Mu dismissed them. The disciples bowed deeply, retreating into the sect's quiet courtyards.
Yan Mei lingered by Lu Mao's side, her eyes softer now. She whispered, "Don't vanish like that again. Not into some death labyrinth, not without…" She trailed off, cheeks coloring faintly.
Lu Mao chuckled. "I'll try. But danger has a way of finding us."
Chen Yuan rolled his eyes. "Try not to attract every ancient ruin next time."
Bao Fu smirked. "Too late for that. With him around, adventure is guaranteed."
Li Xian, standing a few steps away, glanced back at them. Her gaze lingered on Lu Mao for a long moment, her golden eyes betraying a complexity she did not voice.
Later, in his dorm chamber, Lu Mao sat cross-legged upon his mat. His treasures lay around him, faintly glowing in the dark. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and whispered to himself—
"Let the fun begin."
The Black Dragon Faction no longer resembled the run-down shadow it once was. Now, it stood on the edge of something greater—its foundation strengthened, its disciples armed, its destiny shifting.
And deep within Lu Mao's inner world, the figurine stirred.