On the day Lidon and his group were paraded through the streets, Kahn stood among the crowd, watching the slow, miserable procession.
Lidon's troops hadn't reached his section of the street yet, but the chaotic, noisy discussions around him were already nonstop.
The details of the entire mission had somehow spread everywhere, sparking heated conversations.
But after listening for a while, Kahn realized something was very, very off.
The general outline of events was accurate… but the version spreading among the people heavily emphasized Azula's brilliance and unmatched strength, making her the mastermind behind everything.
Meanwhile, Kahn wasn't mentioned at all.
Instead, people were being told he was simply Iroh's disciple — and that all the terrifying torture methods were his idea.
As if he were some bloodthirsty executioner.
???
Sure, he did design the plan, but the story circulating was so twisted it made his eyebrow twitch.
Azula is wise and powerful… and I am the brutal one?
Anyone who knew the two of them even a little would NEVER say that with a straight face.
Whoever fabricated this version of events had no shame.
Kahn wasn't a saint, but compared to Azula?
Please.
He would instantly look like a gentle, compassionate monk.
It didn't take long for him to figure out who was behind it.
Ozai.
That old schemer loved twisting narratives and playing mind games.
Once this rumor became widespread, Iroh's former subordinates — those who didn't know the truth — would immediately hate Kahn.
They'd brand him with a "red name," mark him as an enemy.
The days when introducing himself could instantly win over people like Lidon?
Gone.
You old fox, Kahn cursed silently.
You never do anything like a decent human being.
But there was nothing he could do at the moment. He could only take things one step at a time.
Soon, the procession arrived.
Lidon and his men were tied to the touring vehicle. They looked weak enough to be blown over by a gentle breeze.
But Kahn knew they wouldn't collapse yet — not here.
The worst part was already behind them. Soon, they would be transported out of the Imperial Capital to various mines for forced labor.
And at the same time, the White Lotus would begin their rescue operation.
Whether the rescue would succeed…
Whether they would survive long enough…
Kahn didn't know.
All he could do was silently hope for the best.
Regardless of what came next, his mission was complete.
The pressure that had suffocated him for weeks finally lifted.
As he let out a long exhale, both his body and mind loosened.
At that exact moment—
The Spiritbending technique that had been stuck for so long suddenly broke through.
He could now enter the Spirit World freely.
A double blessing on the same day.
"Bitterness turning into sweetness," as the old saying went.
But traveling to the Spirit World wasn't the reason he'd been so desperate for this breakthrough.
The real reason was—
Now, he could finally meet Iroh again.
His master.
His support beam.
His dependable, gentle, endlessly wise uncle.
The "walking encyclopedia," the "bald old man with a thousand secret techniques," the "supreme thigh to cling to."
Kahn's heart thrummed with excitement.
As the ancients say:
"To have an elder is to have treasure."
And also:
"You only know what you've lost once it's gone."
He had always known Iroh's value, but only after the man's departure did he truly feel the weight of it.
Although Kahn had already warned himself not to rely too much on others, one person's strength would always be limited.
Just look at this mission.
Without the White Lotus's intel, Azula's cooperation, Lidon's trust, and Wolf's assistance, he would've been nothing but brawn and trickery — a lamb waiting for Ozai to butcher.
You shouldn't rely too much,
but you also shouldn't isolate yourself completely.
You must adapt.
But he digressed.
The point was: even though Iroh was physically far away, his knowledge, experience, and hidden trump cards could still help Kahn immensely.
And even if none of that mattered—
just chatting with Iroh would bring peace to his heart.
Their bond was deeper than blood.
Night fell.
Before leaving, they had agreed:
Iroh would enter the Spirit World every night at a fixed time and wait for Kahn there.
And now, Kahn would finally keep that appointment.
The last time he followed Iroh into the Spirit World, everything had been a blur.
But now, performing the technique himself, he felt it clearly.
Like sinking into a silent lake.
Like pushing through an invisible membrane.
A process that felt both long and instantaneous, profound and wordless.
Then his vision blurred—
and the landscape changed into something familiar yet strange.
He had entered the Spirit World.
Here, space and distance were meaningless.
Everything was shaped by the mind.
Although he didn't see Iroh anywhere nearby, he held a single intention in his heart:
Find Uncle Iroh.
Step by step, he walked.
Time felt both fast and slow.
The scenery changed several times.
Then, after stepping through a patch of jungle, the scenery opened—
and Iroh stood right there.
"Haha! Kahn, you're finally here!"
Iroh's laughter was warm and joyful.
"Long time no see, Uncle Iroh."
Kahn tried to keep a calm, steady expression… but gave up and smiled.
The two embraced.
Iroh looked exactly the same — reassuring Kahn that exile hadn't harmed him at all.
Kahn, on the other hand, looked exhausted, prompting Iroh's smile to fade with concern.
"What happened during this time?"
Kahn rubbed his cheek, embarrassed.
"Nothing much… just a few small things."
But that "few small things" included rebellion, torture, scheming, betrayal, counter-betrayal, political lies, manipulations, saving lives, risking his own, and almost collapsing from pressure.
Just minor things.
...
Author's Note:
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