On top of one of the tallest pavilions in the Eternal Black Dragon Sect's complex, a toddler sat at the edge of the roof with both legs dangling over the side.Beside him, a carton of milk and one glass.Rex poured milk into the glass in a very orderly way—unhurried, not careless, which made it resemble someone pouring wine at a fine dining table far more than a four-year-old sitting on a rooftop in the middle of the night. Then the glass was raised, he drank a little, and his eyes returned to the fight taking place below.Down there, two figures moved among trees no longer intact and ground no longer flat—with the sound of clashes that occasionally rose to the height of that pavilion in a form more muffled than the original, but already more than enough to convey the scale of it.Then a soft landing sound came from the left.Fuzi landed with his staff touching the roof surface first before his feet. His eyes scanned the situation in front of him—a small reddish-brown-haired child, a

Caelan then stepped forward.One step. Two.And the ten Grand Elders of the Sacred Sword Sect moved, immediately closing the space between Caelan and Baraha lying among the fallen wood that no longer had any shape.Ten people blocking the path in a way that showed this wasn't a decision made from courage—it was a decision made because no other option was available, and all of them already knew that.Their faces were red from the cold night air and from something deeper than that."You want to kill our Supreme Leader?!" One of them spoke in a way that forced itself to sound louder than usual—the way of someone using volume to cover the fear inside them. "You'll have to get through us first!"The others nodded—nearly simultaneously, like a movement coordinated by the same panic present in each of them.But their hands were trembling.Not from cold. The air in the Draethos Mountains was certainly cold, but that wasn't what kept those fingers from being fully still. They had witnessed ton

At the Pure Jade Sect, that morning was quiet.Thin mist still drifted between the sect's buildings, constructed in a way that had become an identity of its own. Pale green jade stone on every pillar and every ornament present, with small gardens arranged not for beauty alone but for balance, in a way that had become the principle of this sect.In his private room, Bhang Si sat calmly, like someone very accustomed to mornings.His age couldn't be expressed in one easy number—his face held lines that had been there for a long time, but couldn't be called simple aging. More like wood sanded by time into something smoother than the original.His hair was pure white, arranged in a single low tie at the back of his head—not excessive, but enough to show this wasn't hair that had simply been left to itself. Unlike other sect members who wore light green robes, he wore dark green ones, almost like the color of leaves in a season that had already passed its peak, with ornamentation that flowe

Bhang Si took two steps forward."Welcome to the Pure Jade Sect, Supreme Leader of the Eternal Black Dragon Sect."His voice came out in a way that didn't need to be loud to reach anyone's ears—warm, but not a forced warmth. This was the warmth of someone who had spent a very long time learning how to welcome people in a way with no agenda behind it.Behind Bhang Si, thousands of Pure Jade Sect members bowed.In unison, showing this wasn't a movement coordinated at the last minute. From the way they stood—posture still neat despite it being obvious they had been here well before Caelan and Rex arrived—everything made clear this wasn't a welcome put together in a hurry.They had been here an hour. Perhaps more. Standing and waiting, in a position not comfortable to hold for too long, and they had done it solely to receive a guest they had never personally met.Caelan looked at the sight before him for one moment.Whatever the reasons behind all of this—his identity as a Supreme Leader,

The attendant entered without making any unnecessary sound.In his hands, a painting with an old wooden frame already darkened by age, covered by an unusual white cloth. The cloth didn't stir with the room's air, didn't move when the attendant walked, like something that had adhered to the object beneath it in a way that went beyond ordinary weaving.Spiritual energy flowed faintly along its surface—almost invisible, but for anyone with sufficient sensitivity, it was clearly there. A protective layer that had been preserving what lay behind that cloth for no short span of time, keeping the colors alive and the canvas unrotted despite the painting's age having already surpassed the memory of anyone in this room.The attendant stopped at Bhang Si's side, presenting the painting with both hands.Bhang Si received it—also with both hands, in a way that showed this wasn't something treated like an ordinary object. He set it down carefully on the table, between the remaining dishes that had