The teleportation seal fractured mid-air, flaring once before flinging Jalen and the others into a scorched clearing nestled outside Emberfall.
The five disciples landed in scattered formation. Sion and Rana rushed to Jalen first.
He was upright—barely.
Cracks split across his outer qi shell, robes streaked with blood and char, breath shallow. His body hadn't just resisted Moon Realm lightning—it had absorbed it.
"Don't move," Rana said, sliding beside him.
"I'm fine," Jalen murmured, voice strained. "Just need… a second."
"You sure? That bolt looked like it could level a fortress," Sion asked, helpless.
Jalen managed a crooked half-smile. "Then I guess I'm sturdier than a fortress."
Rana pressed a pouch into his hand—just standard healing pills, fused with silken root essence and flame marrow.
"They won't do much," he said quietly.
"I know," Rana replied. "But let me feel useful."
He took them.
Delra stepped forward. "What now?"
"We wait," Jalen answered, eyes half-closed. "Until Rana's parents return." Though he didn't know the full detail, Jalen understood the burden now crushing Emberfall. The attack on the Ember Clan and Flare Family—it was all because of him. The top three Clans, the royal family—they had finally moved. He was surprised it took this long.
With his cultivation, he could challenge Star Realm cultivators, maybe injure a few Moon Realms… but not win. Not survive. So he would evade. He would endure. Because that's all he could do.
—
Meanwhile, Ember Clan burned. Despite their best effort, they weren't a match for these top experts from the three top clans.
Formation towers shattered mid-chant. Vaults collapsed beneath the weight of spirit-forged elemental strikes. Elder defenses fell apart—not from lack of courage, but sheer force. Some elders died shielding disciples. Others were simply outmatched.
The Ember Clan, once a bastion of balance, stood fractured.
Patriarch Riven was found beneath the eastern ridge—barely breathing, qi sputtering through fractured channels.
He had fought until defense was no longer possible—until the weight of legacy outmatched the strength of his body. And now, lying in the dust of defeat, he wasn't angry. Just embarrassed. And quietly, unbearably sad. Sad that he couldn't do more. Sad that the clan his predecessors built and entrusted to him had suffered under his watch.
Some disciples wept quietly as they ferried the wounded. Others had no tears left. Cries of battle echoed through every hallway, barely drowned out by the roar of elemental ruptures. Charred banners flapped limply along broken vaults. Statues melted into slag beneath fire and lightning. Even the spirit winds howled in protest.
—
On the obsidian wing of the Flare estate, Ridge fought like a dying flame—fierce, stubborn, fading. But despite his best effort, he was no match for his enemies who not only gang up on him, but are higher than his Star Realm cultivation.
Many Flare elders and warriors died protecting the family's younger generation. Some Flare elders decided to surrender—not out of fear, but out of love. They knelt so their children could escape. So their legacy wouldn't be annihilated.
But the Shadow Sect and Erupt Family weren't so merciful. They wanted them all dead, and so the elders were left with no choice but to continue fighting a battle that was unwinnable.
The land itself trembled under the weight of war. Flame veins cracked and spilled raw energy through the soil. Spirit trees turned to ash, one by one. Every corner of the compound bled.
And just when all seemed hopeless—
The sky split above the destruction of the Flare Family territory.
Flame surged.
Three figures arrived—not gently, not calmly. They descended like disasters given form.
Simon Flare landed first, and the air bent around him. His aura didn't shimmer—it exploded. Flame spiraled off his shoulders, cracks spreading through the cliffside with every step. His gaze was molten focus, heavy with volcanic silence.
Simar landed next, wrapped in silence, but no less intense. His halberd flickered across his back, twin blades ringing with residual flame compression. Each breath he took rippled through the mountain like pressure surfacing beneath tectonic plates.
Jana followed, surrounded by blooming fire. Not mist, not aura—ignition petals. Each one pulsed with intent. Her flames didn't lash; they danced and consumed. Beautiful. Terrifying.
Their arrival didn't draw cheers.
It drew fear.
The invaders—all those who had pierced the Flare Family defenses—turned toward where Simon's group stood.
They stopped. They watched. They feared.
Simon's flame erupted across the courtyard, incinerating two Erupt Family peak Star Realm enforcers mid-escape. Their bodies didn't fall—they vanished in ash.
Simar's halberd spun once, cleaving through a Shadow Sect suppression array and the three cultivators anchoring it. Their glyphs shattered. Their qi collapsed.
Jana surged through the eastern wing, her ignition petals blooming into spirals of flame that consumed fleeing invaders. Her breath was steady. Her fire was not.
Among the invaders were warriors from the top three sects—Stormveil, Verdant Fang, and Ironshore—embedded among the Erupt and Shadow forces. They tried to retreat and failed.
Simon's flame chased them. Simar's halberd found them. Jana's petals wrapped them.
The Flare trio carved through the battlefield with ease—Imperial Realm cultivators moving like natural disasters. The estate trembled beneath their fury.
And just as Simon raised his hand to finish the last squad—
Three figures descended.
Artinian Stormveil. Sabella Verdant Fang. Seymour Ironshore.
They managed to stop the three from doing any further damage to their subordinates.
They hadn't expected this. Simon Flare was supposed to be contained by the royal family while they suppressed the Flare Family and Ember Cl and took the boy. But not only did that fail to happen, there were now three Imperial Realm cultivators from the Flare Family. If they had known this beforehand, they wouldn't have started this battle in the first place. They would have use other means to get Jalen.
But it was too late. The war had begun. Blood had been spilled. The fire had risen.
Now, they would see it through to the end. Even if they were at a disadvantage.