They left the valley together, following the narrow path that wound between tall, whispering trees. Disciples passed them now and then, some in a hurry, others strolling at a leisurely pace.
A few miles later, the forest began to thin.
Beyond it—
A city unfolded.
Built at the foot of Great Sword Mountain, it bore the sect's name with pride. What had once started as a modest trading outpost had grown into a thriving hub, fed by the constant flow of disciples, merchants, and wandering cultivators.
It was alive.
Vendors called out from both sides of the streets, advertising everything from freshly brewed spirit tea to newly forged weapons. The scent of food drifted through the air, mixing with the metallic tang of smithies and the faint fragrance of herbs from nearby apothecaries.
Restaurants, teahouses, pubs, workshops—even an auction house stood at the city's heart.
Most of it was tied to the sect in one way or another, and many establishments were run directly by disciples.
Stephen glanced around, taking it in as they walked side by side through the crowd.
Eventually, Elsa slowed to a stop.
In front of them stood a restaurant unlike the others.
Four Seasons Palace.
Elegant. Refined. Almost ostentatious.
Even from the outside, it carried an air of quiet authority. Lanterns glowed warmly at the entrance, and the steady flow of well-dressed patrons spoke for its reputation.
Stephen raised a brow.
"Here?" he asked, glancing at her. "Isn't this a bit… expensive?"
Elsa smiled, a hint of mischief softening her usually distant expression.
"Expensive?" she echoed lightly. "It's my treat."
She stepped forward before he could argue.
"We'll be taking the Inner Sect exams in half a month," she added. "So let's enjoy this once."
Then, with a glance over her shoulder—
"And when we pass, you're treating me next time. Don't you dare be stingy."
Stephen let out a chuckle and followed her in.
—
Inside, the atmosphere was calm and refined.
At the reception desk, Elsa gave her name. A staff member immediately guided them upstairs to a table by the window, set slightly apart from the rest.
The view overlooked the bustling street below, now bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon light.
They sat across from each other.
Since it was her treat, she gestured for him to order.
Stephen didn't go overboard.
A few vegetable dishes, spirit fish, rice, and a pot of mild wine.
Simple—but well made.
As the food arrived, the conversation came naturally.
They talked about missions.
Close calls.
Moments where things could have gone terribly wrong—but didn't.
The kind of memories only people who had fought side by side could truly understand.
The wine was light, barely enough to dull the edge of exhaustion, but it loosened the air between them just enough.
At some point, Stephen set his cup down and said, "For the next half month… I'll be staying inside the sect."
Elsa looked up.
"I'm about to break through," he continued, "I don't want to risk missing the exams."
She nodded in response.
—
By the time they finished eating, the sky outside had begun to shift.
Warm shades of red and gold stretched across the horizon as the sun dipped lower, painting the city in a quiet glow.
They stepped out together.
A cool breeze brushed past them, carrying away the lingering warmth of the day.
—
Once inside the sect—
They parted ways.
Elsa headed back to rest.
Stephen, however, turned in a different direction.
The Scripture Repository.
If he were going to break through to the King Realm, he wouldn't rush it blindly.
He had heard the theories.
Listened to the lectures.
But that wasn't enough.
He wanted to read the recorded experiences of those who had already crossed that threshold—understand the process, the risks, the mistakes.
Because he did wish to rush at this stage, as he would be damaging his foundation and putting his future at risk.
And Stephen had no intention of paying that price.
-----------
Core Disciple District
In a quiet pavilion overlooking a man-made lake, two figures sat beneath soft lantern light.
The night was calm.
A gentle breeze skimmed across the water, breaking the reflection of the moon into ripples of silver. Stars shimmered and scattered with each passing wave.
On the stone table between them lay an array of exquisite dishes, their fragrance rich and inviting. A bottle of deep crimson wine rested at the center, brewed from rare herbs and spirit fruits.
Wilson Thorn leaned back in his seat, irritation etched across his face.
He glanced sideways at the man beside him.
"Big brother," he said, unable to hold it in any longer, "you told me you'd kill that brat… and make that bitch crawl into my chambers."
His voice sharpened.
"It's been almost three years."
A slight pause
"And you've done nothing."
The words carried more than impatience—there was resentment beneath them, festering.
"I'm sick of seeing them walk around like they own the place," he continued, jaw tightening. "They humiliated me. You expect me to just swallow that?"
He scoffed.
"Mother said you'd handle anyone and anything that crossed me."
Beside him sat Travis Thorn.
Where Wilson looked like the typical spoiled young master—loud, impulsive, easy to read—Travis was the opposite.
Tall. Lean. Composed.
His features were sharp, almost sculpted, and his presence carried a quiet weight that pressed down on the space around him. Even at rest, he gave the impression of someone who stood above others.
A mid-stage Emperor Realm expert.
A core disciple of Great Sword Mountain.
Founder of the Alliance of Stars—currently ranked third among all core disciple factions.
Power, influence, and patience.
He was the total opposite of his brother.
Travis didn't look at Wilson.
His gaze remained fixed on the lake, on the fractured moonlight drifting across its surface.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. Measured.
"I said I would handle it," he replied.
A small pause.
"And I will."
He lifted his glass, swirling the wine lazily.
"For now, focus on passing the Inner Sect exam. Half a month from now."
His tone left no room for argument.
"After that, I'll have you transferred here. Stay under me. Cultivate properly for once, and not make father worry about you."
Only then did he glance at Wilson, briefly.
"The environment here is far better than the inner disciple quarters. Don't waste it."
Wilson's irritation eased slightly, though not completely.
"And them?" he pressed.
Travis exhaled softly, as if the question barely deserved the effort.
"They're nothing," he said flatly. "Two insignificant ants."
A faint, cold smile touched his lips.
"But since they've offended you… they'll be dealt with."
He set his glass down.
"This year's Inner Sect trial will take place in the dark rift," he continued. "One filled with Grandmaster-level beasts. Anything above that has usually been cleared out."
A brief pause.
"It's kept open for refining talents," he continued, "but not all that go in will come out".
"You don't need to do anything," Travis added, his voice lowering slightly. "Just go in… and come out."
His eyes flickered faintly.
"I'll take care of the rest."
Wilson stared at him for a moment—
Then slowly, a grin spread across his face.
The frustration melted away, replaced by something darker.
Relief.
Anticipation.
"Heh… then I've got nothing to worry about," he said, leaning back with a laugh.
"As expected of you, big brother."
Travis didn't respond.
He simply picked up his glass again.
The two brothers clinked their cups together, the soft sound echoing faintly across the lake.
Above them, the moon drifted silently.