As the scream echoed, Mo Yan’s blade halted mid-air. He spun around to see a young boy, barely ten years old, sprinting toward him in a state of pure terror. The child’s face was deathly pale, his small hands trembling violently as he reached Mo Yan.

  “They… they are killing everyone!” the boy sobbed, clutching Mo Yan’s robes with a desperate, white-knuckled grip. “Father… they killed him! They killed Mother too…”

  His small frame shook with uncontrollable shudders, his weeping an endless stream of grief. Rage surged through Mo Yan. With a powerful kick, he sent Lin Chaoyuan reeling backward. Lin Chaoyuan stumbled, barely managing to keep his footing.

  Mo Yan knelt beside the child, his heart sinking further with every word.

  “What happened? Who did this?”

  The boy choked out,

  “They wore black robes with golden insignias. They said… they said this land now belongs to the Tianjian Sect…”

  At the mention of the Tianjian Sect, Mo Yan’s expression turned to stone. He looked toward Lin Chaoyuan with a gaze of pure, boiling hatred. Lin Chaoyuan, however, stood there with a look of smug amusement, listening to their exchange as if it were a play.

  Mo Yan gently pulled the boy behind him and rose slowly, turning to face Lin Chaoyuan. His eyes, though calm, were predatory.

  “I suppose one shouldn't expect anything but betrayal from a traitor,”

  Mo Yan said, his voice low and dangerous.

  “For a throne. You betrayed your kingdom and your people just for a seat. But you will gain nothing. Where there are clouds, there is rain but what will you do with a throne if there are no people left to rule?”

  Lin Chaoyuan stepped forward, clapping his hands in a slow, mocking rhythm.

  “Bravo. I’m shivering. But I will have what I desire, even if I must stand alone. And as for the people some trees survive without water. The Tianjian Sect has already seized the outer provinces. The palaces have fallen. The noble clans are ash. And now, Mo Yan… now it is your turn.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  But Mo Yan’s soul was already ablaze with the agony of this betrayal. The vision of the Fuzi Xion and Linyan clans burning behind his eyes ignited a fire within him a fire that no ocean could extinguish.

  Flames began to erupt throughout the settlement as people fled their homes in a frenzied panic. Amidst the chaos, Lin Chaoyuan’s cruel laughter acted as oil upon Mo Yan’s internal fire. Once again, Mo Yan’s sword flashed, slicing through the air with a brilliant, shimmering light. He lunged, his blade grazing Lin Chaoyuan’s shoulder, missing a lethal strike by a hair's breadth.

  A duel erupted that was so ferocious the blades themselves seemed thirsty for blood. Strike followed strike with such speed that even the wind struggled to pass between them.

  Masters Kin Lishuan, Chui Yong, and Fung Shu-Ri stood frozen for a moment, watching this horrific reality unfold. Finally, Master Fung Shu-Ri turned to the others.

  “We must get Mo Yan out of here! It is the only way to save him!”

  The three Masters sprang into action. Master Kin Lishuan instantly traced a secret sealing talisman in the air. Suddenly, a thick, suffocating white mist exploded across the clearing. Yet, even within the fog, the clash of steel between Mo Yan and Lin Chaoyuan did not falter for a single second.

  Mo Yan’s sword moved like molten silver, each strike more luminous than the last. The ring of their blades echoed across the battlefield. Then, under the cover of the smoke, Master Kin Lishuan lunged forward, grabbed Mo Yan by his robes, and hauled him away.

  Lin Chaoyuan, suddenly met with silence and a wall of white, growled in frustration. He looked around like a madman, trying to pierce the gloom. He roared for his soldiers, but they too were lost in the choking fog. He was left standing alone, screaming into the void.

  Elsewhere…

  Far off, smoke choked the horizon. The kingdom had descended into total anarchy. The Fuzi Xion and Linyan clans were being consumed by fire. The land that was once serene was now bathed in the vengeful red glow of the inferno.

  In the deep, dark woods, the kingdom's last hope was fleeing for their lives. Mo Yan was drenched in blood, gasping for air as he ran.

  A deep gash marred his shoulder, and a fresh cut from a blade wept crimson on his wrist. Behind him ran the three Masters and the young boy, with Lin Chaoyuan and the Tianjian soldiers in relentless pursuit.

  "Don't stop!" Master Fung Shu-Ri shouted. "Into the trees!"

  Their clothes caught and tore on the brambles. They ran until the forest swallowed them whole. Eventually, they stumbled upon an ancient, crumbling temple, half-buried under a shroud of vines and moss. They collapsed inside, barely daring to breathe.

  Outside, the enemy soldiers, unaware of their hiding spot, thundered past.

  In the heavy, dark silence of the temple, Mo Yan leaned against a shattered altar, clutching his shoulder. His chest heaved, and blood continued to seep from his wound. But as soon as his breathing steadied, he stood up and began to walk toward the door.

  "I am leaving," he said, his voice faint but unshakable.

  Master Chui Yong looked at him in shock. "Leaving… where?”