Han Zhenwu and his son ran until the forest began to thin and a low, stony peak rose before them. Zhenwu did not hesitate. He stopped at the base, drew a pendant from within his robe, and pressed it against the rock. The stone answered as if remembering a long-abandoned promise—seams traced by flaws bled open and the cliff-face reshaped itself, forming a narrow door. He shoved Zhennan through the gap and slotted the pendant home; the rock closed behind them like a wound mended. For a heartbeat he stood with his hand on the sealed stone, feeling the press of the world on the other side: distant shouts, movement, and the tightening ring of those who had followed them.
He breathed once, thinking aloud under his breath, "None of it will matter—this place should hold until I am finished. Then I go into the inheritance; they will have no chance of getting to me."
Outside, Xie Tianhun stood in the smoking clearing, blood spattered across his armor. The worm lay dead where it had struck; the tunnel around it was torn and ruinous. Tianhun's chest heaved with exertion and fury, but the prize he had hoped to take—Zhenwu—had vanished. He swore under his breath: Zhenwu had slipped away in those fleeting seconds of chaos.
From three directions, figures now approached the ruined mouth of the tunnel—each arrival marked by a different presence. Men and women stepped forward, their auras and banners declaring their allegiances. From the Stormbreak Sect came an elder, a woman whose eyes were steady and whose robes bore the broken-wave sigil; beside her marched the VenomHeart elder, dark-coated and measuring; the Silverpeak elder wore pale layered garments and an expression of cool calculation; the Ironblood elder was broad-shouldered, iron-banded, and radiated blunt strength. Each carried the quiet authority of someone used to being obeyed.
Tianhun scanned them and, tight with impatience, ground his jaw. He had expected complications; he had not expected the elders to have arrived so swiftly.
Han Hua pushed through the outer brush and came close enough to the ring of cultivators to be seen. She lifted her voice—sharp, deliberate—calling to where the rock door had sealed them away.
"I was the one who called you here," she cried out. "Give me a chance to explain everything!"
Her plea hung in the cooling air. Zhenwu, safe for the moment within the stone doorway, did not answer; he felt the press of elders and the watchful eyes beyond the rock, and for now he did not come back out.
Tianhun ignored Han Hua completely, his sharp gaze fixed on the four elders who had just arrived.
The first to step forward was Maro, the VenomHeart Sect elder — a lean man with long, black hair tied loosely behind him, his robe adorned with the sect's crimson serpent insignia. His expression was lazy but his eyes glinted with cold intelligence.
Beside him stood Bo tao , the Silverpeak Sect's elder, his silver robes immaculate even amidst the chaos. His tone was calm, but everyone knew that her spearmanship and Qi sense were unmatched among his peers.
To his left was Elder Lian Yue of the Stormbreak Sect, the only woman among the four. Her azure armor glimmered faintly with lightning runes, and her long braid swayed behind her as she regarded Tianhun with mild contempt. The Stormbreak Sect prided itself on freedom and unyielding force—qualities that Lian Yue embodied perfectly.
And at the end stood Elder Fang Ru, the Ironblood Sect's representative—a mountain of a man with a scar running from his temple to his jaw. His presence was like a forge: heavy, relentless, and burning with restrained fury.
Tianhun looked at them one by one before speaking, his voice flat and commanding.
"I've lost track of him. But since you're here, Maro, you should be able to locate the one I'm following. I don't need to introduce him—since you four probably know him already."
He tossed a piece of torn cloth forward. It landed near Maro's boots. The VenomHeart elder crouched, picking it up between two fingers. The fabric was singed, faintly humming with residual Qi.
"A scent like this won't hide long," Maro murmured, his lips curling into a thin smile. With a flick of his wrist, several small, iridescent beetles slipped from his sleeve, landing silently on the ground. They scattered in all directions, crawling swiftly across the broken terrain as their antennae twitched, tasting the air for the faint trace of Zhenwu's Qi.
Within seconds, they began to move as one—toward the mountain.
"The trail's fresh," Maro said, standing and brushing his hands together. "He's close."
The elders exchanged glances, then began to move in unison, their auras flickering faintly as they suppressed their power to avoid triggering any traps Zhenwu might have left behind. Tianhun followed them, his expression carved from stone.
Han Hua made a move to follow as well, but the moment she took a step forward, she froze. All four elders glanced her way simultaneously—their combined gazes pressing on her like the weight of a collapsing mountain. It wasn't even a direct attack, merely an unspoken command: Stay.
Her body trembled as she clenched her fists, biting down on her lip until she tasted blood. Every instinct screamed for her to move, to warn Zhennan, to stop whatever Zhenwu was planning—but under that crushing pressure, she couldn't take a single step.
She cursed under her breath, powerless fury burning in her chest.
Then, before she could think further, a powerful new presence swept over the area. The air vibrated as another Emberwake cultivator descended, his Qi oppressive yet controlled.
It was Lu Chenhao, Patriarch of the Lu Clan—a man whose name alone made even the other elders take cautious notice. His black-and-gold robes bore the sigil of his clan, and his expression was dark with restrained anger.
Beside him stood his son, Lu Zhenhai, his face pale and slick with sweat under the weight of the four elders' auras. He quickly stepped closer to his father, drawing comfort from his presence.
Lu Zhenhai had been the one who had begged his father to intervene after hearing of the coordinated attacks on the Xue and He Clans. When he then heard of the Han Clan's assault, his worry had turned to fear—especially after learning that He Ruying and Han Zhennan were trapped in the chaos.
Lu Chenhao had agreed, partly out of concern for his son's attachments, but more out of growing unease that his own clan might be next.
Now, seeing Tianhun and four other Emberwake cultivators gathered here, the patriarch understood that something greater was unfolding—something that involved all of them.
Lu Zhenhai looked from his father to the elders, his heart pounding. Somewhere inside, He Ruying and Zhennan were alive. He had already helped Xue Lian escape with her child to a hidden refuge, but he had failed to save Ruying before the Empire's enforcer—Tianhun—took her captive.
Lu Chenhao took a step forward, his expression unreadable, but before he could speak, Tianhun's commanding voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Han Zhenwu is suspected of being a demonic cultivator," he declared, his tone sharp and official. "He stands accused of colluding with the Xue and He clans, and of orchestrating the deaths of multiple Imperial officials and soldiers. I am here under the Emperor's decree to arrest and interrogate him. His son and daughter-in-law are also suspected of being demonic cultivators—"
"—That's nonsense!" Lu Zhenhai shouted, unable to contain himself. "Zhennan and He Ruying have nothing to do with this! And Uncle Zhenwu—he isn't the kind of person who'd ever do something like that!"
Tianhun didn't even glance his way. His cold eyes remained on Lu Chenhao, who now stood still, jaw tight. He wanted—desperately—to defend his son's words, but he couldn't risk being marked as a sympathizer of demonic cultivators. One wrong sentence could bring ruin to his entire clan.
After a brief pause, Lu Chenhao spoke in a steady, carefully measured tone.
"Zhenhai, stay here. I'll accompany General Tianhun and the four elders to investigate the matter myself. You need not worry—I will see to it that your friends are brought back safely and unharmed."
Lu Zhenhai opened his mouth to protest, but one look from his father silenced him. He lowered his gaze, fists clenched, frustration burning beneath the surface.
Not far away, Han Hua stood in tense silence, watching everything unfold. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the hilt of her sword, but she knew better than to draw it now.
Tianhun's eyes shifted toward her. "Make sure she doesn't move," he ordered his soldiers coldly. "I have words to exchange with her later."
The soldiers immediately surrounded her, forming a semicircle of steel and Qi.
Without another word, Tianhun and the four elders—Maro, Bo Tao, Lian Yue, and Fang Ru—turned toward the direction where Maro's beetles had gone. In a single breath, their figures flickered and vanished, moving faster than mortal sight could follow.
---
Inside the mountain, the atmosphere was vastly different.
Han Zhenwu stood in the center of a dim, empty chamber. The walls were engraved with faint runic symbols, and the air vibrated with suppressed energy. His son, Han Zhennan, was kneeling beside He Ruying, gently shaking her shoulder. Nearby, their child lay on the cold stone floor, still fast asleep.
Zhenwu ignored them, his eyes focused on the symbols surrounding him as he began arranging a series of talismans in a precise pattern. His mind was steady—calculating.
What I used back then to kill my father… took the blood of many of my brothers, he thought, his eyes flickering with memory. But it gave me power beyond imagination. Now, using my son and grandchild, I should be able to open a door into the inheritance—just for a few seconds. The art itself is a space-path technique… the same that allowed me to overwhelm my weakened father and end him. It won't grant me full entry, but it will be enough.
Zhennan approached, worry written all over his face.
"Father, what should we do now? They might find us any moment. All they have to do is follow the tunnel I came through—it leads straight here!"
Zhenwu didn't even look up. "You don't have to worry about that," he said calmly. "What I'm going to do now will ensure our safety."
His composure and quiet confidence washed over Zhennan like a tide. For a moment, the young man believed him completely. He exhaled, feeling a bit of the crushing pressure in his chest ease.
Behind him, He Ruying stirred with a groan, slowly opening her eyes.
"Ruying! Are you okay?!" Zhennan immediately helped her sit up, holding her trembling shoulders.
She blinked in confusion, dazed and weak. "Zhennan… where—where's Lei? Where's our son!?"
Zhennan spun around, spotting their child still sleeping peacefully on the ground. Relief flooded his face as he scooped the boy up and brought him over. "He's safe! See? He's okay!"
Ruying hugged her son tightly, her arms shaking as she buried her face in his hair. Then, still trembling, she turned her gaze upward—and her eyes locked on Han Zhenwu.
A cold unease swept through her heart.
But before she could speak, Zhennan's reassuring voice reached her ears. "Ruying, it's alright now. We're safe. Father helped us escape from the Empire—he even fought a general so we could get away!"
Ruying froze, disbelief flickering in her expression. She remembered Zhenwu's indifference, his refusal to believe her when Tianhun had tried to take her. Back then, she'd thought he meant to hand her over.
But now… hearing that he had risked his life to protect them?
Her heart wavered.
Shame and gratitude flooded through her as she lowered her head, guilt tightening her chest. "I… I was wrong to doubt you, Patriarch," she said softly, bowing her head to Zhenwu. "Thank you… for saving us."
Zhenwu didn't respond. He merely gave her a small, measured smile—one that didn't reach his eyes—as he pressed the final talisman into the floor, the runes beginning to glow with an eerie light.
Zhenwu gave a faint chuckle — low, dry, and humorless. The faint light of the runes reflected off his cold eyes as he straightened his back and turned slightly toward them.
"Oh, you don't need to thank me," he said calmly. His voice was smooth, but underneath it was something sharp, something that made the air in the chamber turn heavy. "After all…" — he smiled thinly — "I'll be getting the payment for my efforts soon enough."
Zhennan froze, his hand tightening around He Ruying's shoulder. "Payment…?" he repeated, a note of confusion in his voice.
Ruying looked up from where she was holding their son, frowning, unease prickling in her chest. "Patriarch… what do you mean by that?"
But Zhenwu didn't answer.
Instead, the runes beneath his feet began to glow brighter — a deep crimson mixed with an unnatural violet hue that pulsed like a heartbeat. The very air seemed to ripple, the Qi around them turning thick and suffocating.
Zhennan stepped forward, alarm spreading through his expression. "Father, what are you doing?"
That was when the ground began to shake.
Dust rained down from the ceiling, cracks spreading along the stone floor as the symbols flared violently. The air grew hot, suffused with an ancient, oppressive aura that pressed down on their chests until it was hard to breathe.
And Zhenwu's expression — once calm and weary — shifted completely. His eyes lost all warmth, replaced by a glacial emptiness that made Zhennan's blood run cold. The faint smile on his lips curved upward into something cruel.
The man who stood before them no longer looked like a father or savior — but a predator, his face devoid of empathy, his posture exuding the detached precision of someone who had already made his decision.
He Ruying instinctively drew her child closer, trembling. "Zhennan…" she whispered, fear filling her voice.
Zhennan turned to his father, his heart pounding. "Father… what's happening?!"
Zhenwu looked at them, his gaze steady — utterly devoid of emotion — and said quietly,
"Don't worry, my son. You and your child… will serve a far greater purpose than you can imagine."
The chamber trembled violently again, the glowing symbols now forming a spiraling vortex beneath his feet — and with that, the light swallowed everything.