The candlelight inside Aelric's room flickered, though no breeze passed through the still air. His eyes—cold, unreadable, and impossibly calm—shifted toward the window just as a ripple of killing intent washed over the Azure Heaven Sect like a devouring tide. The sensation pricked at his skin, sharp and hungry, multiplied by the hundreds. In that instant, it was as though the mountain itself exhaled hostility.
From every direction—rooflines, shadows between pavilions, treetops beyond the main courtyard—dark silhouettes rushed toward the inner sect. Their movements were swift and disciplined, like a single murderous organism converging upon him. Aelric's fingers gently curled at his side, though he felt no fear; he was merely observing.
Hundreds.
He tilted his chin slightly, eyes narrowing with mild curiosity. So this was the scale the Flowing Cloud Sect resorted to.
Hex's voice echoed faintly in his mind, not with its usual mechanical clarity but strained and partially distant, as though submerged within deep waters.
[Aelric, avoid using essence… core stabilization at ninety percent. If all calculations remain accurate, the core will be completely secured by midnight or dawn. Do not—repeat, do not—channel essence until I finish.]
Earlier, Aelric had acknowledged the warning with a simple nod. But now, as he watched dozens of assassins leap across roofs like black shadows slicing through moonlight, he thought back to that brief conversation.
Hex had been firm—almost urgent—urging him to endure for a few more hours. The refinement of his innate core was a delicate, dangerous process. Even a small interference could disrupt the structure and cause irreparable damage. Until Hex finished, Aelric's access to essence was locked. He could rely only on physical ability, battle instincts, and the cold artistry of killing techniques.
His gaze shifted downward toward the sect grounds, taking in the scene unfolding below with detached composure.
Disciples, one after another, noticed the intruders swarming through the shadows. Some shouted in confusion, some raised weapons on instinct, while others froze momentarily—unable to comprehend why assassins were appearing inside their own sect in the dead of night. The assassins, swift and precise, maneuvered through formations like slipping through cracks in stone. Their movements spoke of training, experience, and their singular, blood-bound purpose.
Aelric watched it all with calm expression.
⸻
Meanwhile — Two Hours Earlier
Inside the Sect Leader's chamber, the atmosphere had been thick enough to choke on.
The moment Jian Wuhen's personal guard left the room and closed the heavy wooden doors behind him, the Sect Leader turned sharply toward Aelric. His usually composed expression trembled with restrained urgency.
"Now that the guards are gone," Jian Wuhen whispered, voice tight, "Divine Doctor… please explain everything. Thoroughly."
The lantern flames reflected in Aelric's crimson eyes, giving him an almost demonic stillness. He slowly placed his hands behind his back and began, his tone calm but edged with frost.
"Flowing Cloud Sect did more than merely increase the duel participants to ten. They made White Dragon Hall the official witness. That alone is not suspicious—White Dragon Hall involves itself where profit flows—but the timing is wrong."
Jian Wuhen's brows furrowed.
Aelric continued, his gaze sharpening slightly. "Just after I finished stabilizing your son's condition, Li Cheng approached me. The very moment I stepped out of First Young Master's room."
Jian Wuhen stiffened. "How did they know…?"
"That is the question," Aelric replied. "They spoke to me with confidence—no, with the arrogance of certainty. Their tone held an unspoken threat, an attempt to sever my connection with your sect. And the killing intent they failed to hide… was directed at Azure Heaven Sect as a whole."
A suffocating silence filled the room.
Jian Wuhen's breath quickened as cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Even with the night's cool breeze flowing through the cracked window, the man felt as though he stood beneath a waterfall of ice.
"Divine Doctor," he whispered, voice dry, "do you have any idea who inside the sect might be… involved?"
Aelric shook his head slowly. "None I can prove."
But inwardly, he already had a name. A suspicion so strong it was practically fact—but Aelric kept it hidden behind his impassive expression. A truth revealed too soon held no strategic value.
Jian Wuhen swallowed hard. "White Dragon Hall…" he murmured. "Why help Flowing Cloud Sect? They are merchants, not warriors."
Aelric's eyes narrowed in thought. "Because Spirit Realm is not merely a chance for prestige. It is a treasure trove of rare elixirs, divine artifacts, ancient manuals, and in rare cases… even untouched spirit stone veins. Enough wealth to shift the balance of power in the Southern Region itself."
Jian Wuhen's eyes widened with horror.
"White Dragon Hall seeks profit. Flowing Cloud Sect seeks dominance—complete dominance over Yunlai Village."
Those words hit Jian Wuhen like hammer strikes to the chest.
The Sect Leader staggered back, gripping his desk to steady himself. "Dominance…? Then… then they intend…"
Aelric spoke plainly, voice as calm as still water.
"If Flowing Cloud Sect becomes the sole governor of Yunlai Village, Azure Heaven Sect must either bow… or be erased."
Jian Wuhen's knees nearly buckled.
His son had been poisoned by them. That was one crime.
But this—this was the eradication of the entire sect.
His hands trembled.
"Divine Doctor…" he croaked, "what… what must we do now?"
Aelric slowly stood up, casting his calm shadow over the room.
"First, we secure neutrality—or cooperation—from White Dragon Hall. Second…" His eyes turned cold enough to freeze blood. "We attack Flowing Cloud Sect before they attack us."
Jian Wuhen felt the world spin.
Aelric walked toward the door, pausing only once.
"Your sect does not have much time, Sect Leader. Make your decision quickly."
Then he left, vanishing like a ghost into the hallway.
⸻
Back to the Present — Azure Heaven Sect
Jian Wuhen jolted out of memory as a chilling wave of killing intent erupted across the sect grounds.
He sprang to his feet so suddenly that his chair toppled backward.
"This killing intent… someone dares infiltrate the sect? At this scale?!"
The color drained from his face.
Flowing Cloud Sect… acted first.
"Liang Shen!" he shouted.
His right-hand man materialized at the door almost instantly, breathing heavily as if sensing the coming storm.
"Sect Leader!"
"Activate all defensive arrays immediately! And sound the emergency alarm—every disciple must form battle formations! Elders will lead from the front!"
"Yes, Sect Leader!"
Liang Shen sprinted out, energy flaring.
Moments later—
WUUUOOOOOO—!!!
The deep roar of the sect's emergency bell tore through the night, shaking disciples awake and alert. Lights flared across the mountain. Confused voices filled the courtyards.
"What's happening?!"
"Intruders? No… too many!"
"Why are assassins inside the sect?!"
"Protect the inner gates!"
"Someone head to the Sect Leader!"
The disciples scrambled, forming defensive lines even while fear clung to their throats. The protective arrays ignited—glowing blue barriers rising like translucent walls around key buildings. But the assassins, trained to kill silently, moved with terrifying fluidity, slipping through weak spots before arrays fully stabilized.
Clashes erupted everywhere.
Screams tore into the night. Steel clashed. Bodies hit the ground.
Blood sprayed against stone tiles.
⸻
Aelric leaned against the frame of his shattered window, watching the battlefield stretch below him.
Disciples swung swords with fear-driven determination. Elders shouted orders, intercepting assassins rushing toward the inner sect. The assassins avoided unnecessary fights, rushing past disciples when possible—clearly seeking only one target.
Him.
Aelric lowered his gaze slightly.
Below, an elder severed an assassin's arm, only for another black-clad figure to appear behind him and drive a dagger toward his ribs. The elder barely turned in time to block, but the force sent him staggering.
Another disciple screamed as an assassin slit his throat.
Another assassin was crushed under the palm of a Peak Stage martial elder.
Death. Chaos. Disorder.
Yet Aelric's expression remained still—neither moved nor unimpressed. His mind was calm, analytical, like an apex predator observing lesser hunters spilling their own blood in confusion.
They grow desperate.
A faint sound broke the silence—a soft tap, like a footstep but impossibly fast.
Aelric blinked once.
A figure was cutting through the battlefield like a hurricane of carnage. Each step he took left behind bodies—disciples, outer sect members, guards—slaughtered with brutal efficiency. Even an elder who turned to stop him was decapitated in a single passing motion.
The assassin's laughter rang out across the courtyard like the cry of a deranged beast.
He ran up the side of a pavilion, kicked off the rooftop, and launched himself straight through Aelric's window—shattering what remained of the wooden frame.
Aelric turned his head slightly as the man landed in a crouch.
Blood dripped from the assassin's dagger—fresh, still warm, belonging to the sect members he had butchered moments ago. His eyes were wild, dilated with murderous thrill.
The assassin grinned, baring blood-stained teeth.
"Well, well! So you're the one!" he cackled, licking the blood from his blade like a starving animal. "Tonight, I, Silent Shadow, will take your head—and claim the ten thousand spirit stones!"
His laughter grew, echoing madly.
Aelric didn't move.
His crimson eyes lifted, calm as the abyss itself, reflecting no fear—only silent, predatory cold.
The assassin froze.
For the first time since entering the room, his manic grin wavered, a tremor running through his spine.
Aelric spoke, voice colder than an executioner's blade.
"…So you've come."