Inside the room, the sounds from outside came through in uneven waves.
Shouts carried across the courtyard, sharp and unfamiliar. Metal rang against stone. Somewhere beyond the walls, something heavy struck wood hard enough to make the floor tremble faintly beneath their feet.
Chen Ming stood near the table, his hands clenched into the fabric of his sleeve. His eyes kept drifting toward the door before returning to his mother.
"Mother," he asked, his voice low but insistent, "what's happening?"
Lin Shu was standing by the window. She had not realized she was gripping the frame until her fingers began to ache. She loosened them slowly and turned around.
Chen Ming looked up at her, his brows drawn together.
"Why is everyone outside?" he continued. "Why are the guards running? What is Father doing?"
For a moment, Lin Shu did not answer.
She crossed the room and knelt in front of him. Her movements were steady, practiced. She lifted one hand and cupped his cheek, her palm warm against his skin.
"It's nothing," she said. Her voice came out gentle, even. "Your father has an old friend arriving. People are outside to receive him."
Chen Ming blinked. He tilted his head slightly.
"Then why aren't we welcoming him?" he asked. "Why are we here instead?"
Lin Shu's thumb brushed lightly along his cheekbone. She drew him closer, until his forehead rested against her shoulder.
"Because," she said, after a moment, "your father asked us to stay inside. When adults meet old friends, they sometimes talk for a long time."
Chen Ming's hands crept into the folds of her robe. He nodded slowly, though his gaze remained turned toward the door.
"Is Father angry?" he asked.
Lin Shu's arm tightened around him.
"No," she said. "He's just busy."
Another sound rolled through the courtyard, louder this time. Chen Ming flinched despite himself.
Lin Shu pulled him fully against her chest and held him there, one hand resting protectively at the back of his head.
"Stay close to Mother," she said softly. "We'll wait together."
Chen Ming nodded, his face pressed into her shoulder. He did not speak again, but his fingers curled tighter, as though afraid that if he let go, something might pull him away.
***
The shattered gates lay twisted behind them.
Dust still drifted through the courtyard as the horses stepped over broken wood and iron. Hooves struck stone in slow, deliberate rhythm. Hei Yan rode at the center, reins loose, his posture unhurried. The youths behind him remained mounted, eyes roaming over the gathered guards and elders with open disdain.
Chen Yuan stood at the front of his people.
Spears were lowered. Blades were drawn but held steady. No one moved unless he did.
Hei Yan's gaze passed over the formation without interest.
Chen Yuan stepped forward alone.
He brought his fists together and inclined his head, the gesture measured and controlled. "You have entered the Chen family manor by force," he said. "May I ask who you are, and what business brings you here?"
A laugh broke the silence.
Wei Qiu urged his horse forward a step, the animal snorting as it stamped. He leaned down slightly, eyes bright with amusement.
"Still pretending?" he said. "Didn't the dog we sent back make it clear enough?"
Murmurs rippled through the elders.
One clenched his sleeves until the fabric creaked. Another took a half-step forward before restraining himself.
Wei Qiu lifted a hand and pointed lazily toward Chen Yuan. "Hand over the spirit stone mine," he said. "Hand over the women in your household." His smile widened. "Kneel properly, swear yourselves to us, and maybe we'll leave some of you breathing."
Anger moved through the courtyard like heat.
An elder at Chen Yuan's side spat onto the stone. "You come into our home and speak like this?"
Another elder's voice shook with fury. "You dare demand our daughters?"
Guards tightened their grips. The scrape of metal carried through the air.
Chen Yuan raised one hand.
The movement was small, but it held. The noise faded.
He looked at Wei Qiu again. His expression had hardened, but his voice remained even.
"Sirs," he said, "turn back now. Leave this place, and I will consider today a misunderstanding."
Wei Qiu stared at him for a heartbeat.
Then he threw his head back and laughed.
The other youths joined in, their voices overlapping, sharp and unrestrained. One wiped tears from the corner of his eye. Another shook his head as if he'd heard a good joke.
"A misunderstanding?" Wei Qiu said, still smiling. "Did you hear that?"
He leaned forward in his saddle. "You think you're in a position to forgive us?"
Behind the guards, movement stirred beyond the broken gates.
Villagers had begun to gather at the edges of the street—shopkeepers peering from doorways, laborers standing frozen with baskets still in their hands. No one spoke. All eyes fixed on the courtyard.
Wei Qiu noticed them and grinned wider.
"Look," he said. "An audience."
Wei Qiu's laughter faded into something thinner.
He tilted his head, studying Chen Yuan as if weighing how much cruelty would be enough.
"The Chen family," he said slowly, "rose on scraps and borrowed trust. A few shops, a few pills, a few grateful peasants calling you savior, and you started believing you were something."
He swept his gaze over the elders and guards. "Look at you. Standing straight because you don't know how to kneel yet."
His eyes returned to Chen Yuan. "You call yourself a patriarch. But you couldn't even protect a single street in your town. You couldn't even keep your women from trembling behind doors."
A murmur broke out, angry, unsteady.
Wei Qiu smiled at the sound. "Don't glare at me like that. If you had any backbone, this place would already be red."
One of the guards couldn't take it.
With a hoarse shout, he broke formation and lunged forward, spear flashing as it drove straight for Wei Qiu's chest.
The spear struck Wei Qiu square in the chest.
It did not pierce.
The guard felt it first through his arms—the sudden, impossible resistance, like steel driven into stone. The shaft shuddered violently, the blade biting just enough to crease skin before stopping dead.
For a heartbeat, the guard stood there, frozen, his weight still behind the thrust.
Wei Qiu lowered his gaze.
He studied the spearhead pressed against him, then slowly lifted his eyes to the man holding it. The smile that spread across his face was calm, almost patient.
"You really believed," he said, softly.
His hand closed around the shaft.
The pull came without warning.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
The guard screamed as the spear tore free, not alone but dragging his hand with it. Flesh parted with a wet, tearing sound as bone ripped loose. Blood burst outward, splashing across the stone and Wei Qiu's sleeve.
His knees gave way, but Wei Qiu caught him before he could fall.
Fingers tangled in the guard's hair, Wei Qiu forced him upright and shoved him down onto his knees, turning him toward the Chen family ranks.
"Look closely," Wei Qiu said. "This is where loyalty ends."
His hand slid from the guard's hair to the side of his head.
The twist was sharp, practiced, and final.
The sound was low and wet, barely louder than a crack beneath cloth.
The guard's body went slack at once.
Wei Qiu released him.
The body collapsed at his feet, limp and silent.
Blood spread across the stone. The smell reached the front ranks, sharp and unmistakable. Several elders recoiled despite themselves.
Chen Yuan drew a slow breath.
"Blood Refinement," he said quietly. "Second realm."
He stepped forward again.
"You may take the mine," Chen Yuan said. His voice did not shake. "The Chen family will not contest it. We will not speak of it again."
A few elders turned sharply toward him.
"Patriarch—"
"This—"
Chen Yuan did not look at them. His gaze remained fixed on the invaders, cold and absolute. The protests died in their throats.
For a moment, the courtyard held its breath.
Then an indifferent voice spoke.
"Do it quickly."
Every youth stiffened.
Wei Qiu turned his head at once. "Yes, Master."
Behind them, Hei Yan remained seated on his horse, reins loose, his eyes already drifting past Chen Yuan—as though the matter had been decided long before anyone here had spoken.
The five youths moved at once.
Steel flashed in their hands as they stepped forward, expressions stripped of playfulness, eyes cold and intent. They did not shout. They did not rush. They advanced with the ease of those who had done this before.
The first guard barely raised his spear before a blade cut across his throat. Blood sprayed hot and sudden, his scream choking into a wet gurgle as he collapsed.
Another tried to retreat, boots scraping against stone. A sword took him through the chest, the force lifting him briefly off his feet before he was thrown aside like refuse.
Cries rang out across the courtyard. Metal clashed. Spears thrust and shattered. The guards fought desperately, some screaming as they charged, others freezing just long enough for death to reach them.
"NO—NO—AA—"
"HELP—AAAA—"
"I CAN'T—AAAAH—"
It did not matter.
Every exchange ended the same way.
A guard lunged, only to have his wrist split open. Another tried to shield a fallen comrade and took a blade through the spine. Bodies fell one after another, the stones slickening beneath them as the night filled with the sound of pain and breaking breath.
Chen Yuan's jaw tightened.
He looked back once, toward the elders clustered behind him, faces pale, hands shaking around weapons they had not held in years.
"Go," he said sharply. "Take the women and children. Get them out. This is beyond us."
An elder nodded, fear flashing openly across his face as he turned.
He took two steps.
A dark shape crossed the air.
The dagger struck the back of his head with a dull, final sound. His body stiffened, then folded forward, hitting the ground without another movement.
"Not so fast."
The voice was light. Almost amused.
Chen Yuan turned.
One of the youths stood there, arm still extended from the throw, his eyes bright with interest.
Something in Chen Yuan snapped.
He drew his sword.
Steel rang as he stepped forward, placing himself between the attackers and what remained of his people. His stance settled, breath controlled despite the blood already streaking his sleeve.
Three of the youths moved at once.
They were fast.
Blades struck from different angles, forcing Chen Yuan back step by step. He parried one strike, felt another slice across his shoulder, the impact numbing his arm. A kick drove into his ribs, stealing his breath as he staggered.
He did not fall.
He struck back, cutting one youth across the thigh, drawing a sharp hiss, but the opening cost him. A blade slipped past his guard and bit into his side. Warmth spread beneath his robe.
Across the courtyard, elders fought desperately against the remaining two youths. Their movements were slower, heavier. One fell with a cry as his weapon was knocked aside and his chest split open. Another screamed as a blade took his leg from beneath him.
"AAAAAAAH—!"
"NO—DON'T—!"
"AHHH—AHHH—"
Laughter rang out.
Wei Qiu watched from a short distance away, arms loose at his sides, eyes gleaming. "Too late," he said pleasantly.
Chen Yuan forced himself forward, blood dripping from his fingers, vision tightening at the edges. One more step. Just one more—
A hand appeared between them.
Bare. Old. Wrinkled.
It struck Wei Qiu's blade aside with a sharp, decisive motion.
The force sent Wei Qiu stumbling back half a step, his smile vanishing for the first time.
The hand did not tremble.
A figure stepped into place beside Chen Yuan.
Chen Yuan's breath caught. "Uncle Zhen…"
Elder Chen Zhen stood there, robe torn, eyes hard and clear. He did not look at Chen Yuan at first.
"I warned you," he said, voice rough. "Again and again."
He glanced sideways, expression sharp with something that was not quite anger and not quite regret.
"As I said before," he continued, gripping his weapon, "I never liked you as the patriarch of the Chen family."
He stepped forward.