"I'm finally here."
An Ling had traveled for another two days nonstop and was now at the foot of Yellow Peak Mountain.
In the distance, a mountain peak loomed, half-shrouded beneath drifting clouds. Yet through the misty veil, An Ling's cultivator eyes could see more clearly—the faint outlines of an army preparing for departure. Thousands of cultivators were gathering amid the clouds' formation, boarding the massive flying boats docked beside the marketplace.
"Are they finally retaking Red Peak Mountain...? I better hurry and find the clan leader and the others before it's too late!"
An Ling on flying sword push forward at full speed, calling out his purpose to the wary guards as he rushed into the market.
Once inside, he immediately pulled out the signal stone in his ring, following the direction it reacted as he moved.
The entire marketplace had been militarized. Cultivators from many forces filled the streets; the crowd pushed against An Ling, their faces pale with exhaustion and eyes heavy with grief.
"Is this it...?"
He soon found himself standing before a store bearing the sign "Humble General Store." Without hesitation, he entered.
"Elder, hello? Nephew An Ling has arrived!"
The front of the store was empty. His voice echoed into the silence.
"..."
No one responded, so he released his divine sense, sweeping through the interior. Two familiar auras flickered from within.
Confirmed to have people inside, he strode deeper into the store and slid open a wooden door.
Inside sat a gray-haired old man, beaten and weary, while a mature woman stood not far away, her face filled with sorrow.
An Ling's expression darkened upon seeing the two in silence.
"Uncle Three, Aunt Rui... Has something happened? Where are the others?"
He already guessed the answer—but still asked. He refused to accept what his heart already knew.
An Yuanrui glanced at him, then turned toward the silent An Yuanshu.
"Brother Three..." she called softly.
An Yuanshu jolted slightly, lifting his head. A faint smile crept onto his tired face upon seeing An Ling.
"You're finally here, Ling. Come closer—I have some instructions for you."
"What happened, Uncle Three? Tell me the truth."
"The others..." His voice faltered before he continued, heavy with grief. "All of them perished a week ago in the battle at Red Peak Mountain."
"How? That's impossible!" An Ling stepped forward, disbelief twisting his voice.
He had expected heavy casualties—perhaps half or even three-quarters of their number—but not complete annihilation. Not this.
Dozens of faces flashed through his mind. His lips pressed tightly as he realized they existed now only as memories.
Only he, Brother Lingqi, Aunt Rui, and the clan leader remained.
A grim number for an already struggling clan.
Is this where our clan's history ends...? he wondered bitterly.
"Six days ago—" Aunt Rui spoke instead, her tone trembling. "—Red Peak Mountain was in dire need of reinforcements. Our company was among those sent there under Master Wu's command. But it was a trap. We were ambushed. If not for the timely rescue by experts from the Immortal Jade Sect... we wouldn't be here right now—the two of us."
An Yuanrui recounted the events, her voice breaking.
'Fight to the death—all of you! As long as I escape alive, your families will be compensated!'
She remembered Master Wu's words and his promise, yet she knew—those words were hollow. The dead were easily forgotten, and only those who barely clung to life ever received compensation.
Her fists tightened until blood seeped from her palms. How weak I am...!
That thought burned like fire in her chest. No matter how hard she tried, she could not escape the truth. She had survived—but not because of strength, only because of chance. When others bled and screamed beside her, she could do nothing. She couldn't save them, couldn't even stand proudly as one of the fallen. All she could do was watch... and live.
If only I were stronger, she thought bitterly. If only I had the power to protect even one of them...
Her teeth clenched. The taste of iron filled her mouth as the stench of smoke and blood from that day replayed vividly in her mind.
I hate this weakness. I hate this helplessness!
But what could she do? They were a small clan—allowed to live, to reproduce, and to die as disposable soldiers every century. That was their purpose in this land. Nothing more.
An Ling listened in silence, his heart heavy. There was no comfort he could offer to ease her pain.
"Today—" An Yuanshu finally spoke, "—by the order of the Green Sword Sect, all surviving recruits are required to participate in the operation to recapture Red Peak Mountain from the demons."
He removed his storage ring and the pouch at his waist, placing them on the table.
"Inside this ring is all my personal wealth. The pouch holds the ashes and belongings of our fallen clan members. See to it that they're buried properly on the new mountain, in whatever arrangement you see fit."
Thud!
"Uncle Three!" An Ling dropped to one knee, pleading. "There must be another way—we can ask them to exempt you two from this expedition!"
An Yuanshu only shook his head slowly. "You're a smart kid, Ling. You already know why we can't."
An Ling bit his lip hard.
The truth was cruel. The Green Sword Sect had ordered every surviving recruit to join the retaking of Red Peak Mountain—not for glory, but to lessen the number of survivors eligible for compensation.
The Beast Tide had ravaged their forces. Over three thousand low-level cultivators perished, hundreds of Foundation Building experts died, and more than a dozen Purple Mansion cultivators fell in battle.
The losses crippled the sect—perhaps for a century to come.
Fortunately, the two Golden Core elders remained: Master Wu and Senior Master Cao. Both survived, though are injured. With them still at the helm, the sect would endure—but they needed time to recover and rebuild.
And rebuilding required resources.
So, to lighten the burden, those two Golden Core cultivators made a ruthless yet necessary decision—to send every affiliated clan's surviving recruits to the front lines. With their deaths, the cost of compensation would be reduced, and the sect's resources could be focused on recovery.
After all, only the medium forces—those of Foundation Building Clans—were worth compensating. Small clans like the An Clan were beneath notice; their losses were inconsequential. No righteous person would raise a complaint or accuse the sect of injustice for overlooking them.
In the end, such families would simply be swept away in the aftermath, forgotten.
"But still, Uncle Three—we won't know unless we try!"
"..."
An Ling persisted, but silence was his only answer.
"Aunt Rui, please!" He turned desperately. "For the sake of the An Clan, we have to try!"
An Yuanrui looked at him with conflicted eyes.
She knew how fragile their future was. Only two young cultivators—her nephew and An Lingqi—remained to carry the clan's name. Continuing their lineage would be difficult... yet she could not deny his determination.
"Little Ling, I—"
"Ling, come here." An Yuanshu interrupted.
"Yes, Clan Leader!"
An Yuanshu studied his nephew's resolute face and smiled faintly.
"I and the others was not wrong in nurturing you. In just fifteen years, you've reached the late stage already. You truly are the blessing of the An Clan."
An Ling stayed silent, his eyes reddening as memories of their years together resurfaced.
"With you and Lingqi alive, I can finally feel at ease. The continuation of the clan... rests in your hands."
"Do not fear, Ling. I believe the ancestors will watch over you once we're gone." His voice strengthened with resolve. "The clan's future is entrusted to you—don't falter! Our strength may be lost today, but as long as you live and lead the next generation, it can be regained. I trust your heart, your will, and your ability to carry us forward."
He stood before the kneeling An Ling, as though passing on the weight of the clan's destiny.
An Ling's eyes, already swollen with emotion, hardened with resolve. He straightened his back and looked up.
"Clan Leader, I understand my duty! But please—let us at least try to exempt you and Aunt Rui from this! As the one who will bear the clan's burden, I beg for the peace of knowing I've done my best to save you both, even if it means lowering myself to beg the Green Sword Sect!"
His voice echoed through the quiet store, trembling with conviction.
An Yuanshu fell silent, a quiet sigh leaving him. In his focus on preparing the clan's future, he had overlooked the burden his nephew would carry if he and Rui didn't make it back. For a cultivator, the Dao Heart mattered deeply—knowing he hadn't tried everything to save them would weigh on An Ling's heart and weaken his resolve moving forward.
"...I'm sorry, little Ling. I didn't consider how heavy your Dao heart must be, carrying the clan's future." He leaned back in his chair. "Alright. We'll do as you wish. But—" his tone turned stern— "you must not cause a scene. Don't provoke the Green Sword Sect—lest they force-enlist you in their army or strike you down on the spot. You must return safely to Baiyun, no matter what."
He turned toward An Yuanrui. "Junior Sister Rui, go with Ling. Ask if we can be exempted from the upcoming battle. Hurry—before the acting company leader boards the transport ships."
An Yuanrui nodded. "Let's go, Little Ling."
An Ling rose, bowed deeply to An Yuanshu, and followed her out.
Behind them, An Yuanshu slumped into his chair, as though he already knew how hopeless their attempt would be. The back courtyard was quiet, the faint rustle of leaves and the distant clatter of footsteps seeping in from the street beyond the walls.
"May the heavens take mercy on us…"
His voice drifted through the still air, carried for a moment beneath the open sky before fading into the distant noise of the moving cultivators in the street.