The wind on the Crescent Bell Tower was colder than usual.
Li Fan stood alone at its peak, his eyes closed, robes fluttering in the late dusk breeze. Beneath him, the sprawling mountains of the Li Clan stretched out into the far valley, their peaks gilded with gold from the setting sun. The tournament was over. The murmurs, the admiration, the whispers of fear—he had felt them all. But up here, none of it mattered.
He breathed in.
The scent of rain lingered faintly. And deep in his core, the Fourth Cauldron pulsed like a storm cloud barely restrained. It wouldn't be long now. He could feel it.
The Fifth Cauldron was stirring.
He knew what it meant: lightning, again. But heavier. Sharper. With judgment. The tribulation he had survived before was only a whisper. The next… would be a roar.
As if summoned by his thoughts, footsteps echoed on the old tower steps.
Mu Qiu appeared from the shadows, robes drawn tight, carrying a folded bundle in his arms. "Still brooding?"
"Preparing," Li Fan replied, not opening his eyes.
Mu Qiu snorted. "That's what I call brooding with good posture."
He handed over the bundle. Inside was a sealed scroll. Crimson parchment, waxed with a sharp leaf insignia in blood-red ink. The seal shimmered faintly with restrictive script—one only high elders could authorize.
Li Fan frowned, examining it. "An invitation?"
Mu Qiu nodded. "To the Crimson Leaf Martial Exchange. Hosted by the Eight Southern Heaven Branches."
Li Fan broke the seal.
> You are cordially summoned to represent the Li Clan at the Grand Exchange held in Crimson River Province.
This is a gathering of heirs, elite disciples, and martial prodigies from across the Southern Realms.
You have been recognized as a qualified victor and contender.
Come. Or be forgotten.
His eyes narrowed.
"They're testing me."
"Of course they are," Mu Qiu replied. "You think surviving heavenly tribulation goes unnoticed? There are sects out there who would kill ten elders just to get one body-tempering genius to dissect. This invitation isn't just about diplomacy—it's bait."
Li Fan let the wind carry the scroll from his hands. It burned away in golden fire before it hit the stones.
"Good," he murmured. "Let them come."
Mu Qiu watched him for a long time, then sighed. "Boy… there's more. The Crimson Leaf Exchange isn't a mere tournament. It's a front. Beneath it, sects form alliances, arrange marriages, exchange techniques, even spy on each other. If you go, you step into a different battlefield."
"I already stepped onto it the moment lightning tried to kill me," Li Fan said, turning to face him. "I've already declared war on Heaven. What's a few sects?"
The old alchemist smiled grimly.
"You're not wrong. Just… don't let your fists write checks your soul can't cash."
Li Fan's expression sharpened.
"I don't intend to cash them."
He stepped down the tower, cloak whipping behind him.
> "I intend to rewrite the currency."
High above, on the floating clouds near the eastern sky, a white hawk soared. On its back rode a girl with silver eyes and a moonlight blade across her lap.
The Moon Sect envoy.
She watched the boy vanish into the mountain's path and whispered:
> "Soon… the Fifth Cauldron.
And when lightning falls again, let's see if you can still walk."