The hall remained silent long after Li Jianhong's cries faded.
No one knew what to say.
No one knew how to react.
The death of an elder of the Heng Ming Sect was not something that happened every day.
Especially not someone like Gu Liang.
For decades, he had stood as one of the sect's pillars.
A figure countless disciples respected.
A cultivator many believed would live for hundreds more years.
Yet now he lay motionless upon the cold floor.
A pool of blood slowly spread beneath his body.
And beside him knelt Li Jianhong.
The young man's shoulders trembled uncontrollably.
His face was buried against his father's robes.
He did not speak.
He did not move.
He did not give orders.
He did not call for revenge.
He did not rally anyone.
He simply remained there, frozen in grief, holding onto the corpse of the only family he had left.
The image struck Xiaoyu harder than she expected.
Because this wasn't how the hero was supposed to look.
The protagonist she remembered was always calm.
Righteous.
Unyielding.
Yet the person before her now was merely a son who had just lost his father.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
A strange feeling settled inside her chest.
Sympathy.
Before she could think further, several elders rushed toward Gu Liang's body.
Expressions of disbelief covered their faces.
One elder immediately checked for signs of life.
Moments later, his hand slowly lowered.
The answer was obvious.
Gu Liang was gone.
"He is dead..."
The elder's voice trembled.
Those three words shattered whatever hope remained.
Several disciples began crying openly.
Others stared blankly at the corpse as if refusing to accept reality.
Li Jianhong's expression twisted further.
But he did not speak.
He did not command.
He did not declare revenge.
He simply remained beside his father, shaking silently as the world collapsed around him.
---
Xiaoyu watched him from a distance.
Seated still in Yuchen's position, she did not approach the chaos.
Shen Wei stood in front of her like a silent wall, sword still sheathed but presence fully alert.
Only now did Xiaoyu realize something unsettling.
She had not moved during the entire attack.
Not once.
Even when people were dying only steps away.
And yet… she was calm.
Too calm.
Her fingers tightened slightly inside her sleeves.
Why?
Before she could resolve that thought, Li Jianhong's head lifted slightly.
For a moment, his eyes met Yuchen's.
Xiaoyu froze.
Just grief—raw and unfiltered.
And instinctively—
Xiaoyu was the one who looked away first.
A faint chill crawled up her spine as she broke eye contact.
She didn't know why she reacted like that.
But she did not like the feeling at all.
---
The masked assassins had already disappeared.
Their retreat had been precise, almost ritualistic. No lingering chaos, no unnecessary slaughter once their objective was complete.
That fact bothered Xiaoyu more than anything else.
Because she had seen enough to know—
This was not random.
This was planned.
Carefully.
---
Only after some time did Shen Wei finally escort her away from the ruined hall.
The walk through the sect grounds felt longer than usual.
Not because of distance.
But because of silence.
Every disciple they passed wore the same expression—confusion mixed with fear. Some whispered, others stared at the ground. None spoke openly of what had happened.
The Heng Ming Sect had been wounded.
Deeply.
But the true horror was not inside the hall.
It was outside.
As they stepped past the shattered gates into the courtyard, Xiaoyu's breath caught slightly.
The outer grounds were worse.
Far worse.
Bodies lay scattered across the stone paths like discarded objects.
Sect guards who had once stood proudly at the entrance were now lifeless, their weapons still clutched in rigid hands.
Some had been cut down before even drawing their swords.
Others bore deep, precise wounds suggesting they had been overwhelmed instantly.
Blood had pooled into the cracks of the stone, forming dark streams that led nowhere.
The wind carried the smell of iron and dust together, making the air feel heavier with every breath.
Even Shen Wei's expression tightened slightly as he walked her through it.
Not fear.
But recognition of efficiency.
Whoever had done this had not just attacked.
They had erased every barrier leading into the hall.
Xiaoyu swallowed quietly.
If the courtyard defenders had fallen so easily…
Then the intruders had never been in danger from the start.
---
Yet Xiaoyu could not focus on that for long.
Her mind kept circling the same thought.
Tianyu had been attacked.
Zichen had been attacked.
Gu Liang had died.
Outer guards had been slaughtered before anyone inside even realized what was happening.
Yet Yuchen… remained untouched.
She immediately hated herself for thinking it.
There were explanations.
Logical ones.
Reasonable ones.
Shen Wei had protected her the entire time. The assassins never reached the elevated platform. The battle had been chaotic beyond control.
It could all be coincidence.
And yet—
A colder thought lingered beneath her mind.
Xiaoyu knew who Yuchen was supposed to become.
Not in this present.
But in the future she remembered.
A man who would one day become feared across the sects.
A strategist who smiled while eliminating those closest to him.
A future villain who would not hesitate to kill even his own brothers.
Tianyu.
Zichen.
Even elders like Gu Liang.
Now Gu Liang was already dead.
Earlier than expected.
Before any of the original turning points.
Xiaoyu's breath slowed slightly.
The thought was dangerous.
But it had already formed.
What if this wasn't random?
What if Yuchen had something to do with this?
Her hand subtly clenched.
No.
That was impossible.
And yet—
The suspicion remained.
Like something lodged too deep to remove.
---
By the time they returned to Yuchen's residence, night had already settled over the sect.
Lanterns glowed softly along the corridors.
Security had been doubled.
Shen Wei gave brief instructions to the stationed disciples before taking his position outside the main chamber, ensuring no one could enter unnoticed.
Only after confirming everything did he finally stand still.
Slightly.
Xiaoyu entered her room alone.
The door closed behind her.
Silence.
Finally.
For a moment, she simply stood there.
Not sitting.
Not moving.
Just breathing.
Her mind replayed fragments she could not forget.
The masked intruders.
The courtyard of corpses.
The sudden collapse of order.
Gu Liang falling.
Li Jianhong's broken silence beside the corpse.
Still no orders.
Still no rage-filled declarations.
Just grief.
A part of Xiaoyu's understanding of the "future hero" had quietly cracked.
---
A knock came later in the evening.
"Enter," she said.
The door opened.
Tianyu stepped inside.
Xiaoyu looked up slightly.
He had already changed his robe.
Clean now.
Properly treated.
His injuries had been tended to, leaving only faint signs of strain beneath his composed appearance.
But his expression remained unusually serious.
Not wounded in body.
But in mind.
The exhaustion in his eyes could not be hidden.
He studied her for a moment.
Then spoke.
"Yuchen."
His voice was low.
"Did you notice anything strange today?"
Xiaoyu froze slightly.
Immediately, countless alarms sounded inside her head.
Strange?
What did he mean?
The attack?
The assassins?
Gu Liang?
Or...
Her?
For several seconds, neither sibling spoke.
Tianyu simply watched.
Waiting.
Observing.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, Xiaoyu felt a dangerous thought surface.
Perhaps the greatest threat wasn't the masked intruders.
Perhaps it wasn't Li Jianhong.
Perhaps it wasn't even the future she no longer understood.
Perhaps the real danger...
Was the people closest to Yuchen realizing that something about him had changed.