Li Xueyao sits beside Kaelan inside the slow-moving carriage, watching the broken city pass by through the open window.
Three months have passed since that night—
Three months since the corpses rose,
since fire swallowed streets,
since lightning cracked the sky.
Yet even now, the royal capital remains wounded.
Half-repaired walls stand beside ruins. Scaffolding clings to buildings like ribs growing around old scars. Workers hammer stone and timber from dawn until nightfall, but still, too much remains undone.
Outside, people pause to bow as the carriage rolls past. Their expressions are complicated: relief, grief, exhaustion… and something new—hope.
Li Xueyao's gaze lowers.
"So many still without proper homes," she murmurs.
Kaelan doesn't answer at once. His eyes sweep the streets—calculating, measuring, remembering.
"There are fewer refugees than last month," he finally says. "And fewer funerals."
Li Xueyao lets out a slow breath—almost a sigh, almost a release.
"But the capital is still broken," she whispers.
Kaelan shakes his head gently.
"No. The buildings are broken. The capital is recovering."
Outside, children chase each other through piles of bricks. Merchants argue. Soldiers oversee repairs. Life—messy and fragile—continues.
Li Xueyao leans back, fingers tracing the fabric of her sleeve.
"Three months," she says softly. "It feels like yesterday—and also like years."
Kaelan glances at her.
"Rebuilding takes time," he says. "But we're moving forward."
She turns her head, watching a group of workers planting new stone foundations.
"Yes," she says, barely above a whisper.
"We are."
And the carriage continues through the living wreckage—toward the future she intends to claim.
…
Later, Kaelan stands alone beside the river, facing the rising structure across from him.
The main castle—the first heart of the Wizard Academy—is already more than seventy per cent complete. Walls rise like the bones of a new era. Towers reach upward, still incomplete but proud.
At this pace, another month will finish the first building.
But the entire academy?
At least five years.
He could rebuild everything in a single month if he wanted—stone shaped by magic, walls forged by elemental force.
But he won't.
Not now.
Not after the capital bled and burned.
The reconstruction has given people work—purpose—and a way to rebuild their shattered lives. The academy construction has quietly become the backbone of the capital's economy.
Still… the pace is too slow.
His eyes narrow.
There must be a faster way without taking the work away.
A thought surfaces.
Something simple. Obvious.
And he curses himself.
"…Cement."
He could have used it months ago.
With a flicker of lightning, he crosses the river, strides back into the palace, and tells a servant:
"Bring me clay, limestone, ash, and sand."
Within an hour, a courtyard table is covered with materials.
Kaelan kneels, sleeves rolled up, and begins mixing—carefully adjusting proportions, compressing the mixture with mana, refining texture with lightning heat.
Hours later—
A smooth grey block hardens under his touch.
Solid. Durable. Fast.
A material this world has never seen.
---
The following morning, Kaelan demonstrates it to Li Xueyao.
She knocks on the hardened slab—eyes widening as she realises its potential.
"It dries fast," she mutters. "And it's strong."
Kaelan nods. "Stronger than stone once reinforced. Construction time will be reduced by seventy per cent."
The next day, he presents it before the construction crews.
Workers stare, stunned.
Builders test it with hammers, blades, and fire.
The courtyard fills with whispers.
And in their eyes—
Hope turns into ambition.
---
By afternoon, Kaelan gives Chen Qi his orders:
"Start buying materials. Hoard everything required to produce cement."
Chen Qi nods sharply.
"And establish a workshop outside the city. Assign workers to study the process. I want mass production within two months."
"Yes, Lord."
---
That night, Kaelan walks into Li Xueyao's study.
She looks up from scrolls and financial ledgers—eyes tired, but steadier than before.
Kaelan sits beside her and speaks simply:
"Tomorrow, I'm leaving for the Chen Kingdom."
Li Xueyao stills.
"To deliver the meditation method to Chen Luzai," he continues. "I promised him."
Silence follows… then she nods.
"Then go," she whispers, steady but soft. "And return safely."
Kaelan smiles faintly.
"I will."
Outside, the capital sleeps under moonlight—
And somewhere beyond the horizon, another chapter waits to unfold.
The next morning, Kaelan rises into the sky and breaks above the clouds in a blur of wind.
His robe flutters wildly—then tears straight open along his spine as two vast crow-black wings erupt outward.
I need to refine a robe that repairs itself, he sighs inwardly.
One powerful flap—
and he vanishes into the horizon.
He adjusts the wind around him as he flies, directing pressure, redirecting currents, reducing drag—testing, correcting, experimenting.
I don't have a proper flying magic power.
So in mid-flight, he begins making one.
First step: remove air resistance.
The world blurs.
His speed triples instantly, the land beneath shrinking into streaks of paint.
Within minutes, he passes the northern border of the Tang Kingdom.
He smiles.
Good. But it can be better.
Instead of entering Chen Kingdom, he veers west—toward the endless shadow of the Black Mountain Range.
There in the high sky, he continues testing.
Hours turn to days.
Lightning storms flash beneath him. Mountain peaks slide past like tiny stones. Wild beasts of the sky flee as a shadow and gale streak overhead.
With each adjustment, his understanding of wind grows.
Second step: wind threads woven into his feathers.
His speed leaps again—now he is little more than a silent, silver-black streak across the heavens.
Third step.
Fourth.
Fifth…
And finally—
Ninth step.
His body merges with the wind entirely.
Where he looks, he appears.
Where he wills, he moves.
Distance becomes thought.
Limitation becomes memory.
A great magic power is born—Wind Flight.
It can be improved later by merging lightning, but for now, it is complete.
And just as he finishes, his spirit domain catches something.
A wave of battle fluctuations.
Not small—not local.
A fight powerful enough to shake Qi rivers and law traces.
Chen Kingdom.
His wings fold.
His body becomes a streak of stormlight.
He descends.
---
Inside Chen Kingdom's capital—
A heavy and silent room holds the royal family.
Chen Yuyan stands beside her father, the king, and her elder brother, the crown prince. All three stare toward the grey-haired old man sitting calmly with a cup of tea—Chen Luzai.
Her brows knit in worry.
The Chen Royal Family has eight ultimate martial artists.
Five are bedridden with injuries so severe they won't recover for months.
Two more can stand—but their strength is weakened, unstable.
Only one remains unshaken.
Only one can still fight.
Chen Luzai.
But… he is old.
Every battle carved away years. Every use of his technique consumed his lifespan.
Chen Yuyan clenches her hands—but there is no choice.
In only a few hours, outside the capital walls, the Great Elder of the Shadow Wind Sect will be waiting.
This chaos was not born from the people, but from nobles backed by Qi-Refining sects of the Ren Kingdom.
Her royal ancestor opens his eyes slowly.
Her father asks, voice tense, "Ancestor… how are you?"
A soft sigh answers him.
Then the ancestor speaks.
"Prepare to flee."
"This battle—will likely be my last."
The room freezes.
Her brother, jaw tight, asks, "Ancestor… are you not confident in winning?"
Chen Luzai gives a faint smile—one without joy.
"I will win."
"But after that—I will not live long."
Her father whispers, "…then what should we do?"
The ancestor thinks in silence for a heartbeat.
Then another.
And finally says, "Escape to Tang Kingdom."
"Only Lord Kong can protect you."
Chen Yuyan bites her lip.
Her voice trembles.
"But… will Lord Kong help us? He did not even send the meditation technique."
Her ancestor's gaze sharpens—not angry, but weary.
"Child—creating a meditation technique is not so simple."
"The one I created—the Medicine Body Refining technique—cost me half my lifespan, and even now, it remains incomplete."
"So leave. When the battle begins—run."
Her father straightens.
"I cannot leave."
"If I vanish, they will know something is wrong."
Chen Yuyan chokes, "Father…"
Her brother steps forward—eyes calm with a decision already carved into stone.
"I must stay as well."
"A Crown Prince does not flee on the day his kingdom is tested."
Her father's voice breaks, "Son…"
Her brother places a hand on his shoulder.
"You know I am right."
Chen Yuyan shakes her head, "Then I will also stay."
Her brother turns to her sharply.
"You will leave."
"No," she breathes.
"You must."
He steps closer—soft but unyielding.
"You will protect Sister-in-law."
"You will protect Chen Juan."
Her nephew's face flashes in her mind—the innocent two-year-old who did not understand any of this.
Her father speaks, voice heavy as iron, "Chen Juan is the last male of our direct bloodline."
"He must survive."
Chen Yuyan closes her eyes.
Tears fall—slow, hot, helpless.
"…I understand."
The ancestor rises.
"I go."
The room bows—not as royalty, but as family.
Then he disappears into the storm outside.
Her brother turns. "I will prepare their escape."
Her father embraces her once—firm, trembling—then walks away.
And she remains standing alone in the silent room, tears streaming, heart breaking—because this may be the last moment they are still a family.
After several breaths, she wipes her face.
Straightens her spine.
And walks out to prepare her escape.