"How… presumptuous."
The voice rumbled like thunder rolling across the heavens.
It came from the leader of Xuan — the colossal monk seated upon the lotus throne adrift in the endless white clouds. His calm eyes glowed faintly with divine radiance, yet within them burned cold fury.
As his words echoed, the entire realm trembled.
A crushing pressure descended from the skies, pressing upon Xuan, who knelt on the jade-white bridge below. The weight was so immense that even the clouds beneath the bridge rippled and distorted.
"Ugh—!" Xuan gritted his teeth, his knees slamming against the polished bridge as the golden tiles beneath him cracked. Unable to resist, his arms buckled, and his palms struck the cold surface.
He was now bowing completely, forehead nearly touching the floor, his entire body trembling under the might of the leader's aura.
The air itself had become heavy—every breath felt like inhaling molten iron.
Still, Xuan forced out a hoarse whisper, his voice trembling, "M-my lord…"
The leader's gaze darkened. "You dare return in failure… Not only did you lose the boy and that vessel, you also lost The Holy lotus of heaven ?"
"My–my lord, I deeply regret… delivering such a message to you," Xuan stammered, his body trembling under the lingering weight of divine pressure. "It—it was Elder Mu Feng… he was the one who blocked our path…"
"Oh…?"
The colossal monk's tone shifted ever so slightly, the pressure in the air easing just a little. Xuan gasped quietly, though he remained kneeling, his forehead still nearly touching the jade bridge in respect.
"Elder Mu Feng…" The monk repeated the name slowly, his brows drawing together as he searched his memory. "You mean—the Emperor of Alchemy and Talismans?"
"Yes, my lord," Xuan quickly replied, his voice shaking.
A flicker of interest passed through the leader's ancient eyes. "I had thought that old man perished long ago…" he murmured, his tone carrying a faint echo through the cloudy realm. "It seems… he still clings to life."
"My lord, what shall we do about the elder… and the child?" Xuan asked carefully, his voice trembling beneath the still air.
The colossal monk closed his eyes, a faint sigh escaping his lips.
"...Disciples must learn," he said softly, "that when a single leaf darkens the forest—
cut it quietly, before the rot spreads.
When the roots are clean, the garden will bloom again.
And as for the fallen leaf…"
His voice grew quieter, almost sorrowful.
"Let the wind carry its blame."
The ancient master's words drifted through the hall, light as mist yet sharp as decree.
Each syllable flowed like wind over still water—calm, measured, final.
Though his tone was mild, a silent authority lingered within it, and none in the vast hall dared to draw breath.
Xuan slowly rose to his feet, straightening his robes and returning to his usual, composed posture.
He bowed slightly, his eyes calm but resolute. "Yes… my lord," he replied softly, his voice steady now, though it still carried a faint tremor of reverence.
Behind him, the sacred realm began to dissolve.
The endless sea of golden light unraveled into shimmering trails, drifting through his body like ethereal streams before fading into nothingness.
Even the colossal monk and the countless divine lotuses faded, dissolving into a haze of luminous dust.
In the next breath, silence reclaimed the world.
Xuan found himself once again standing upon the high edge of a mist-covered mountain.
Before him stretched the vast, dark canopy of the Starry Sky River Forest—solemn and endless beneath a storm-laden sky.
Thunder murmured faintly in the distance as a few raindrops fell, caught by the bamboo leaves swaying gently beside him.
Behind him, ancient trees rose like shadowed giants, their roots lost within the deep forest's embrace.
A cool breeze swept across the cliff, carrying the scent of rain and earth.
Xuan stood beneath the shelter of the bamboo grove, gazing toward the horizon where darkness gathered.
His expression was unreadable—but deep within his eyes, a flicker of resolve burned quietly.
"Sigh…" Xuan exhaled slowly, his breath mingling with the rising wind. His voice came soft yet resonant, carrying effortlessly through the mountain air.
"Qin Mu…"
A sudden gust swept across the cliffside, whipping his golden robes violently to the left.
From within that turbulent wind, a figure descended—his red whisk streaming like flame.
Qin Mu landed behind Xuan, dropping to one knee with flawless precision.
He lowered his head, cupping his fists respectfully.
"This humble soldier reports to the Grand Elder," he declared, his tone filled with loyalty and reverence.
"Qin Mu," Xuan said, his gaze fixed on the misty horizon. "What happened with the white ape?"
Qin Mu's body stiffened. He hesitated, his throat tightening before he finally spoke.
"Uhh… Elder…" he stammered, swallowing hard. "We… we couldn't contain the creature. It was too powerful—and too fast. When we closed in to hunt it down, the beast struck back. Seven of my soldiers were killed instantly, and another twenty were gravely wounded."
He lowered his head further, his voice trembling.
"In the end… we lost sight of the creature entirely."
Xuan exhaled slowly, the sound carrying the weight of heavy disappointment.
"So, not only have we lost the child and the sacred lotus, but also a precious being of great power."
Qin Mu lowered his gaze, his brow furrowed with troubled thoughts.
"The rumors whispered among my soldiers are true… The monks were indeed defeated by Mu Feng and his disciple."
He bowed deeply, voice filled with solemn regret.
"My deepest condolences to the Elder and the entire Holy Soul Empire. Should you require anything from this humble soldier, command but a word. Qin Mu will strive with all his might—even if it means facing Mu Feng himself and claiming his life."
"Oh..." Xuan's voice was smooth, almost teasing as he regarded Qin Mu. "Do you truly believe yourself more powerful than Elder Mu Feng?"
Qin Mu faltered, his words stumbling as he struggled to respond. "Uhhh… of course not. If Elder Xuan himself struggled against him, how could I possibly hope to match his strength?" He forced a humble smile, head bowed low like a loyal hound. "But with Elder Xuan's guidance, this humble soldier will do all in his power to confront Elder Mu Feng and his disciple."
Xuan's gaze sharpened, his voice calm yet cutting as he caught a falling green bamboo leaf between his index and middle fingers with delicate precision. "So, you say you will do anything for this monk and for the sake of the Holy Soul Empire?"
"Without question," Qin Mu replied solemnly.
"Even to the point of giving your life?" Xuan's tone remained serene, but the chilling edge beneath it was unmistakable.
Hearing this, Qin Mu abruptly broke his stance, eyes widening in shock as a sudden gust of wind swept past him from the right, gently fluttering the red whisk on his helmet.
"What do you mean, El—"
Before Qin Mu could finish, Xuan calmly turned the bamboo leaf's pointed tip toward him, never taking his gaze from the distant horizon. With a faint whistle slicing through the air, the slender leaf suddenly shot forward like a deadly arrow, cutting through the space between them.
A wet, slicing sound echoed as the leaf pierced Qin Mu's forehead, exiting the back of his head with a spray of blood that splattered onto the nearby plants and bushes.
Qin Mu's body crumpled, collapsing onto the muddy ground with a heavy thud—his eyes still wide open, frozen in shock.
"Amitabha… may you find eternal peace," Xuan intoned softly, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the distant horizon, as if speaking to both the living and the departed.
"Someone approaches…" His voice echoed calmly through the vast expanse.
From the misty air behind him, a blurry figure gradually took form and cleared—a monk, his posture respectful. He cupped his fists and knelt on one knee.
As his eyes fell upon Qin Mu's lifeless form sprawled on the ground, staring blankly at the sky, a flicker of unease stirred within him. Yet, before Xuan, he concealed it perfectly.
"Disciple Jing Laochen, reporting to the elder," he declared, bowing his head low in solemn duty.
"Send word to the Sunrise Empire," Xuan commanded, his voice steady and unwavering, "that General Qin Mu, a great warrior of the empire, has fallen with grace and honor while confronting Elder Mu Feng over the burden of the cursed child."
The monk bowed deeply, casting one final glance at Qin Mu's lifeless form before dissolving into the swirling mist.
A long sigh escaped Xuan's lips as his gaze fixed upon the cold wind. The breeze carried green bamboo leaves—one stained with blood—tumbling slowly into the darkened sky heavy with storm clouds.
"Elder Mu Feng," Xuan murmured softly, his voice melding with the whispering wind, "now the question remains… will you save the child, or will you save yourself?"