Inside the Azure Heaven Sect, dawn was still a few breaths away. The cold, lingering night winds slipped through the gaps between rooftops, making the lantern flames flicker in Sect Leader Jian Wuhen's office.
The room was filled with people—elders, captains, and key figures of the sect—but despite the number, silence dominated. The tension was thick enough to weigh on lungs.
A large map of Yunlai Village and its surroundings lay across the table, held down by inkstones. Several markers indicated routes, hidden tunnels, and estimated guard rotations of the Flowing Cloud Sect.
The sect's officials were in the midst of a strategy discussion, but none of their voices carried much ease. Every plan felt too risky… too slow… too predictable.
Yet what occupied the mind of the sect leader was not the map.
It was him.
The memory replayed with painful clarity—when Aelric's pressure descended, Jian Wuhen felt as though an ancient creature had placed its foot on his chest. He had cultivated for decades, endured battles and injuries, survived situations many would crumble under… but that moment—
He truly felt like a mortal standing before a calamity.
Even breathing had been difficult.
His vision had darkened at the edges.
His organs had vibrated with every pulse of Aelric's aura.
If the pressure on the guards was double what he and Manager Bai felt… then it was a miracle any of them remained conscious before Aelric put them to sleep with a single turn of his face.
Just recalling that invisible force made Jian Wuhen subtly clench his fists under the table.
That wasn't the power of a young man in his twenties… not even close.
Aelric's eyes, demeanor, and aura resembled something far older—an existence that had lived through storms and carnage long before they were even born. Someone who had known power so absolute that current threats likely felt like the buzzing of flies.
An old monster trapped in a young man's body…?
Jian Wuhen didn't know the truth.
He didn't dare ask.
After all, curiosity killed the cat—especially when the "cat" stood before a being who could twist its neck without moving a muscle.
In the end, Jian Wuhen reached the same conclusion he had reached countless times since Aelric stepped foot into their sect:
Aelric was using them.
And they would use Aelric.
That was the only relationship possible between beings of vastly different natures.
So long as their goals aligned, he would not pry. Nor would he treat Aelric as an enemy. But trust? No. Trusting someone like that was courting death.
He inhaled slowly, pushing down the lingering unease.
At the table, Elder Xu was speaking.
"…If we launch a direct assault through the north gate, we can take advantage of the shift change—"
"But that exposes the inner courtyard immediately," another elder cut in. "Flowing Cloud Sect has two cultivation elders stationed near the spirit spring. If we alert them first, the rest will scatter."
A third elder stroked his beard thoughtfully. "We should infiltrate from the cliffside forest instead. It leads straight to the herb storage and the servant area. If we eliminate the disciples quietly, we weaken the manpower without raising alarm."
The sect leader's right-hand man frowned. "It risks alerting the patrol formation. Flowing Cloud Sect may be rotten, but they aren't careless."
The arguments continued, each elder adding their opinions, each strategy becoming more detailed. The Elders' voices filled the hall, but Jian Wuhen's mind remained distant, only half listening.
A quiet knock suddenly echoed through the silent corridor.
The elders paused.
A guard walked forward, opened the door—and bowed.
"Sect Leader, Elder Fu has returned."
A man in his mid-forties entered, his clothes tattered and stained with dust, a clear sign of intense battle. He bowed deeply.
"Sect Leader. We nearly eliminated all the assassins who infiltrated our sect. However… a few managed to escape. Their stealth and concealment techniques were too refined—even after pursuit, they vanished completely."
The tension rose instantly.
Jian Wuhen raised a brow. "Casualties?"
"None among our side, Sect Leader."
"Good." Jian Wuhen nodded. "Sit."
Elder Fu complied, taking a seat at the corner of the table. His breathing was still uneven from prolonged fighting.
But the moment he sat down, the right-hand man voiced the concern on everyone's mind:
"What if the escaped assassins report everything to Flowing Cloud Sect… including Divine Doctor's presence?"
A chill swept across the entire room.
The elders stiffened.
Faces paled.
If Flowing Cloud Sect learned the truth, would they retreat? Launch a desperate counterattack? Or attempt to assassinate him again with stronger forces?
No one knew.
But before panic could take root, Jian Wuhen raised his hand.
"They won't."
All eyes turned to him.
The sect leader's voice was steady—certain.
"Those assassins… were never loyal to Flowing Cloud Sect. They follow money, not orders. They know nothing of loyalty. And after witnessing Divine Doctor's power with their own eyes…"
A cold light flickered in Jian Wuhen's gaze.
"They would rather bury themselves alive than get involved again."
After a brief silence, the others slowly nodded.
Yes.
That made sense.
Facing someone like Aelric once was enough to traumatize even hardened killers.
The atmosphere gradually relaxed again, and they returned to the map with renewed focus and seriousness. For the first time since the meeting began, Jian Wuhen himself leaned in, ready to strategize properly.
Tonight… Flowing Cloud Sect would be erased.
⸻
Meanwhile, in Aelric's Chamber
Aelric sat cross-legged on his bed, the room dim except for a faint crimson glow pulsing from his body. His innate core was healing, drawing in the thin essence of the surroundings.
Hex remained silent—still in deep sleep.
Aelric's consciousness drifted inward.
He could hear the conversation in the sect leader's office as clearly as if he were sitting among them. Their concerns. Their plans. Their fear.
His lips curved faintly.
Reasonable.
For now, their goals aligned.
But soon, his attention shifted—not to the present, but to the memories he had absorbed from the traitor guard.
⸻
Scenes unfolded like a movie in his mind.
A young boy—barely one year old—crying as his parents exchanged him for a bag of silver. Their expressions were cold, indifferent. They never looked back.
The memory blurred, shifting—
A dim underground hall.
Whips cracking.
The boy—older now—forced to stand with bleeding feet.
Training that pushed him past what any child should endure.
Eight years of this hellish cycle, sculpting him into a weapon.
Then—
The Flowing Cloud Sect elder forged documents, presenting him to Azure Heaven Sect as a "talented orphan recommended by a local branch." At that time there was no rift between Flowing Cloud Sect and Azure Heaven Sect.
Aelric could feel the boy's pain, fear, and numbness… but none of it stirred emotion in him. He had witnessed far worse tragedies in his previous life. This was simply another example of human cruelty.
Then the memory shifted again—
The boy, now a youth, blending into Azure Heaven Sect's ranks.
Learning martial arts instead of cultivation because it suited his mission.
Slowly climbing positions.
Becoming a trusted guard of the sect leader.
All for a blade to be planted in Jian Wuhen's back one day.
These memories passed quickly, barely catching Aelric's interest—until the next scene surfaced.
⸻
A long corridor within Flowing Cloud Sect.
The boy, now fifteen, approached the sect leader's chamber.
Inside—
A man stood in front of the Flowing Cloud Sect Leader.
His face was hidden behind a mask crafted like a rakshasa's snarling visage—teeth bared, eyes hollow, expressions unreadable.
"Are you certain," the sect leader asked cautiously, "that the inheritance of an Immortal Master is located there?"
The masked man's voice was thin and distorted, as though multiple tones overlapped.
"It has been confirmed. The location is accurate."
The Flowing Cloud Sect Leader exhaled sharply, tension leaving his shoulders.
"Good. With that inheritance, even Divine Manifestation won't be our limit—"
Suddenly, he paused.
His head snapped toward the door.
"Who is there?"
The youth stepped forward, deliberately showing he had just arrived.
"Sect Leader, you called for me."
The sect leader's expression relaxed. "Ah. Come."
The conversation that followed was mundane, related to sect duties, but Aelric paid it no mind.
The important detail wasn't the boy's mission or actions—
It was the inheritance of an Immortal Master.
When the memory faded, Aelric opened his eyes.
A faint glint shone within his crimson irises.
Interesting.
That… was worth investigating.
He rose from the bed and walked toward the window. Outside, the sect courtyard was alive with movement. Disciples prepared weapons, checked armor, and strengthened defensive wards.
Torches flickered.
Steel clanged.
The smell of sharpening stones lingered in the air.
Above them, the moonlight grew faint while the horizon began to brighten.
Half an hour had nearly passed.
Aelric watched silently, his expression unreadable.
The war against Flowing Cloud Sect… would begin at dawn.
And he had things he needed to confirm.
The calm before the storm settled into his bones, quiet and cold.
Soon—everything would change.