The path to Mount Feiyan wound through the Ashveil Expanse, a dead zone of scorched earth and twisted spirit echoes. Long ago, an entire sect had perished here in a failed attempt to bind a corrupted spirit beast. Even now, travelers spoke of hearing the screams of monks carried on the wind.Jin Longwei walked at the head of the convoy, eyes narrowed as he studied the blackened soil beneath their boots. The taint was faint, but it clung to the land like mold—impossible to wash away without sacred rites.> “Are you sure this is the best route?” Zhao Yunlei asked, tightening his grip on the hilt of his twin blades.> “The Flame Court won’t expect us to come through the ashes,” Jin replied. “Which is exactly why we will.”Behind them, the rest of the Silvercloud warriors moved in tight formation, their breathing disciplined, their steps silent. Even in hostile terrain, Jin’s presence brought a calm that steadied the entire company. His command wasn’t loud—it was absolute.Mei Lian approa

The Imperial Academy stood like a crown jewel atop the White Jade Plateau—its soaring pagodas glinting beneath the afternoon sun, banners of gold and obsidian fluttering in the wind. Once a sanctuary of cultivation and scholarly pursuit, it now felt like a place frozen in uneasy silence.Zhao Yunlei frowned as he and Mei Lian passed through the outer gates.> “I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Too quiet.”> “It’s exam season,” Mei replied lightly. “Half the disciples are locked in meditation, and the other half are likely hallucinating from lack of sleep.”But even she couldn’t mask the tension in her voice. The air here felt… wrong. Not heavy, exactly. Just distant. As though the Academy itself were holding its breath.The guards recognized Mei Lian immediately. Whispers followed them—about the prodigy who left abruptly two years ago, and the scowling man beside her with eyes that scanned every shadow.They were escorted to the Inner Vault Pavilion, where the oldest relics and spirit

The wind shifted over the Eastern Hills as Zhao Yunlei stepped into the glade.All around him, the forest held its breath—no birdsong, no rustling leaves, only the sound of his own footsteps. Night was falling, and the world had turned silver under the rising moon.Yunlei paused. “You’ve followed us for seven provinces. You’ve poisoned three allies. Burned our camp at Ansu. And now here you are. So why hesitate?”From behind a veil of willow branches, the assassin emerged.Tall. Robed in dusk-grey silk. A featureless silver mask hid their face.They moved like smoke—silent, smooth, deadly. Twin daggers glinted in their hands, curved like crescent moons.“I hesitate only because you deserve to know,” the assassin said, voice filtered through some enchantment. “Who paid me. Why you must die. And who you truly are.”Yunlei drew his spear with one hand, a talisman in the other. “Say your piece.”> “You are not Zhao Yunlei. You are Tian Xie’er’s weapon. A child grown in a vat of lotus and

The air inside the hidden vault was heavy—cloaked in centuries of dust, silence, and waiting.Zhao Yunlei’s footsteps echoed down the narrow stone corridor, the light from the orb casting a pale silver glow across the etched walls. Each panel was carved with scenes of war, betrayal, and ascension. At the center of every mural was a figure: cloaked in shadows, his eyes twin stars of fury.> “That’s… you,” Jun Duyi murmured from behind, fingers brushing one wall. “Or at least, someone who wore your face.”Yunlei said nothing. The deeper they went, the louder the pulse in his mind became—like drums from a forgotten war. The orb trembled faintly in his hand.Behind them, Captain Hong led a detachment of guards, weapons drawn, nerves taut.They reached a vast subterranean chamber, circular, lined with monolithic stone coffins. In the center stood a throne carved from obsidian, crowned with the symbol of the Kirin—coiled, majestic, aflame.Yunlei stepped forward. His breath caught in his th

The chamber became a crucible of light and shadow.Zhao Yunlei surged forward, intercepting the first blow from the Phantom Spear wielder. The man’s face was tattooed with runes of suppression—clearly one of the Order’s twisted experiments. His spear split the air like lightning, each strike aiming to dismantle Yunlei’s very essence.Yunlei responded with fluid grace, his martial rhythm flawless. Kirin Flow met Phantom Spear in a dance of death, neither side yielding.Across the room, Zhao Yueming clashed with the blindfolded heir. She moved with eerie precision, as if seeing without sight. Her movements mirrored Yueming’s Kirin style—imperfect, yet devastating.> “They cloned our techniques,” Yueming muttered as he blocked a crushing palm strike. “But not our heart.”Behind them, Jun Duyi and Meilin held off the third attacker—a massive figure clad in black armor. Each of his strikes forced the two to work in tandem, Jun’s acrobatics weaving around Meilin’s precise, calculated counte