The grand hall of the Darkmoon Sect was eerily silent, the faint hiss of incense smoke curling toward the crescent moon motifs carved into the black stone walls. Spirit lanterns glowed dimly overhead, casting long, flickering shadows over the assembly of elders. The air was thick with tension, a palpable weight hanging between the pillars of the room.

Nian Ru stood at the back, his posture still. He wasn’t allowed to speak in the presence of the clan’s elders—not yet. But he listened, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of those gathered. From where he stood, they looked like statues carved from the same obsidian stone as the hall—unmoving, calculating.

At the center of the room sat the Patriarch, Nian Zhong, his dark robes embroidered with silver crescents. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze heavy as he studied the Second Elder, who stood at the forefront, delivering his report.

“Patriarch,” the Second Elder began, his tone steady and deliberate, “the mercenaries have performed well. The tokens of the Eternal Harmony Sect, the Silent Willow Sect, the Radiant Flame Sect, the Verdant Crane Sect, and the Ironroot Pavilion are now in our possession.”

He inclined his head slightly, his next words carefully chosen. “Our disciples and informants within the sects have been invaluable. Without their efforts, the mercenaries would not have succeeded so swiftly.”

A brief silence followed, the room heavy with unspoken acknowledgment. Then the Second Elder added, “However, the remaining Sects have grown suspicious. I suggest we recall all clan members back now.”

"Five keys to the Seal," A faint murmur rippled through the gathered elders, though none dared to raise their voices.

Nian Ru’s expression remained impassive, but his thoughts churned.

Five already. We may actually pull this off before the other sects take notice.

The Second Elder continued, "The prisoners from the various sects are being moved to the location at the Ashen Waste. Unfortunately, the woman escaped our trap at Clear River City, and we've been unable to find her trail."

The Third Elder stepped forward, her sharp gaze darting between the Patriarch and the Second Elder. Her voice carried a note of skepticism as she addressed the room.

“While five tokens is progress,” she began, “it is far from victory. The remaining sects are stronger, better fortified, and more entrenched in their alliances. The Celestial Serenity Sect alone could wipe out our entire mercenary force if provoked.”

The First Elder, his arms crossed and his towering frame casting a long shadow over the others, let out a low, derisive snort. “And yet we cannot stop now. If we falter, the righteous path sects will uncover what we’ve been doing and unite against us.”

The Fourth Elder, younger and visibly less confident, shifted uneasily. “The Immortal has grown more demanding, Patriarch,” he said cautiously, his bow deeper than the others. “He insists the next token must be secured within the month. He says we are moving too slowly.”

A weighted silence fell over the room. Even the mention of the Immortal seemed to darken the air, the faint flicker of the lanterns faltering.

Nian Ru watched closely as the elders exchanged glances.

The First Elder was the first to break the silence, his tone dismissive. “He’s impatient because he’s desperate. The Convergence draws near, and with it, his only chance to break free.”

The Third Elder shot him a sharp look. “And yet we need him,” she said firmly. “Without the Immortal, we wouldn’t be able to get the last token.”

The Second Elder inclined his head slightly, his voice measured. “We should have waited til we had the Celestial Serenity Sect's token.”

The First Elder’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Exactly. Once we have that token, he is unnecessary.”

The Third Elder’s tone hardened. “What if the Celestial Serenity Sect attacks? Or the Jade Sun Sect? If we didn't want this deal, we should have waited until we were strong enough.”

The Patriarch raised a hand, silencing the rising tension. His voice was calm but carried the weight of finality. “We will not move against the Immortal,” he said. “His power and knowledge remain critical. Without him, the Seal remains beyond our grasp.”

The First Elder’s smirk faded, his expression cooling into neutrality.

The Fourth Elder, emboldened by the Patriarch’s interruption, cleared his throat nervously. “But the schedule, Patriarch… the Immortal’s demands grow harder to meet. Mercenaries will not be enough for the next tokens. The Celestial Serenity Sect is already suspicious, and if we push too far, they could—”

The Patriarch’s gaze pinned him in place. “Do you suggest we abandon our task?”

The Fourth Elder swallowed hard. “No, Patriarch. I only meant—”

“Then we proceed as planned,” the Patriarch said sharply. He shifted his gaze to the Second Elder. “The next token must be secured. Bolster the ranks of the mercenaries if needed. Do not recall the clan members; use them. It's good that they get some battle experience.”

Nian Ru smiled at those words, though he kept his face carefully blank.

At last, he thought, his fingers brushing over his armor. My chance for real combat.

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The grand pavilion of the Celestial Serenity Sect stood cloaked in morning mist. Its polished jade floors glinted faintly as the first rays of sunlight filtered through intricately carved screens. The gentle hum of Qi resonated faintly in the hall. Delicate strands of incense smoke wove through the air, their floral fragrance masking the tension that coiled beneath the surface.

Elder Jing Fei bowed before the Sect Master. Her sapphire robes, embroidered with intricate lotus patterns, rippled faintly with the energy of her controlled Qi. Despite her composed exterior, her sharp eyes flicked up now and then, measuring the Sect Master’s expression.

At the head of the hall sat Sect Master Qiu Lian, her posture regal and unmoving. Her pale jade robes shimmered faintly in the sunlight, and her silver hair, tied back with a simple hairpin, gave her the appearance of timeless authority. Her serene expression revealed nothing of her thoughts as she gestured for Jing Fei to begin.

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“Elder Jing,” Qiu Lian said, her voice calm but edged with steel. “Speak. What progress have you made?”

Jing Fei raised her head slightly, her tone measured. “Sect Master, we have uncovered a lead regarding the mark found on the attacker’s body. The design—a crescent moon entwined with thorned vines—matches the emblem used by a mercenary group called the ‘Black Crescent Company.’”

“Mercenaries,” the Sect Master repeated, her tone neutral. Her eyes flickered faintly with something unreadable. “Continue.”

Jing Fei inclined her head. “The Black Crescent Company is active near the Ashen Wastes. They are known to operate in secrecy, and their numbers are unusually large for a group of their nature. However, we have yet to identify who employs them.”

The Sect Master’s gaze sharpened. “If this group is large enough to leave such a mark, why have I not heard of them before?”

“They are careful,” Jing Fei replied, calm but steady. “And only recently have they increased their numbers. We’ve traced their activity through one of our informants in Tianyan City. They confirmed the tattoo’s origin.”

“And this informant?” Qiu Lian asked, her tone precise. “Are they reliable?”

“They are,” Jing Fei replied firmly. “The informant has provided accurate information in the past.”

The Sect Master nodded once, her expression giving nothing away. “And the inquiries sent to the other sects?”

Jing Fei’s expression flickered just slightly before she smoothed it over. “Most have answered, but Silent Willow, Radiant Flame, Verdant Crane, and Ironroot Pavilion—have not. That… is a troubling matter, Sect Master. The groups we sent to speak with those sects have not returned. Nor have we received any word from them. It is as though they vanished.”

The Sect Master’s fingers drummed softly against the armrest of her seat, the motion slow and deliberate. “Vanished?” she echoed, her voice dipping into something colder. “And how long has it been?”

“Nearly two weeks,” Jing Fei admitted.

The Sect Master’s gaze turned distant, her eyes narrowing as though peering beyond the pavilion's walls. “Four righteous path sects… no word.”

Jing Fei nodded. “Precisely, Sect Master. Mercenaries destroyed the Eternal Harmony Sect, and now these four Sects are silent. I fear—”

“Speak,” Qiu Lian said, her tone permitting no hesitation.

Jing Fei drew a quiet breath before continuing. “I believe these Sects have been attacked, and whoever did it dared to harm our envoys.”

The Sect Master’s lips pressed into a thin line, the flicker of her Qi subtly rippling the incense smoke in the room. “Then we must tread carefully. If these mercenaries—or whoever controls them—are so bold, the Celestial Serenity Sect will not remain untouched for long.”

Jing Fei lowered her gaze. “I suggest we prepare contingencies, Sect Master. If these mercenaries truly aim to destabilize the righteous path, it may fall to us to restore order.”

The Sect Master turned to the balcony behind her, where the mist rolled gently over the peaks. Her expression remained inscrutable as the morning sun caught the silver strands of her hair.

“Take what resources you require, Elder Jing,” she said after a long pause. “Follow this lead with care. I will not have our sect blindsided by unseen hands. And ensure the disciples remain focused on their training—they must not sense the depths of our concerns.”

Jing Fei bowed deeply. “As you command, Sect Master.”

The Sect Master’s voice softened, though her authority remained unyielding. “Elder Jing, should you find evidence of collusion against the righteous path… ensure it is handled quietly. The last thing we need is fear spreading through the sects.”

“I understand,” Jing Fei replied, her voice resolute. Rising gracefully, she turned and left the hall, her steps light but purposeful.

As the elder’s silhouette disappeared beyond the pavilion’s entrance, Qiu Lian remained by the balcony, her gaze fixed on the swirling mists below.

She needed to talk to the ancestor.

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The caravan had stopped for a brief rest, its line of wagons drawn up along the edge of the dirt road. Horses pawed at the ground, and weary travelers stretched their legs or huddled under the shade of nearby trees. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, its golden light casting long shadows over the clearing. Mei knelt beside the second wagon, her satchel open as she worked. Her scarf was pulled low over her hair, and her plain, faded robes blended her seamlessly into the crowd of travelers.

“Hold still, little one,” Mei said gently, her hands steady as she applied a poultice to the shallow cut on the boy’s forearm. No older than seven, his dirt-smudged face scrunched in discomfort as she secured the dressing. The crude bandage wrapped around it earlier had already darkened with dried blood, and the faint scent of herbs now hung in the air.

The boy sniffled but nodded, his round eyes fixed on her with a mix of fear and trust. “Thank you, Healer Huan,” he said, his voice small but earnest.

Mei’s hands paused briefly as the name lingered in the air. She smiled faintly. “You’re welcome. Be careful not to pick at it, all right?”

The boy clutched his arm and hurried back toward the wagon. Mei stood slowly, brushing her hands against her robes. Her smile faded as she adjusted the scarf covering her hair, and her eyes flicked toward the horizon. Huan—the name still felt strange on her lips.

It wasn’t the first time she had lived under a borrowed name, but it had been years since she’d needed to. Huan Li, a healer wandering the roads with strangers, was far removed from the quiet apothecary she once was in Tianshi Lake City. Her mind drifted—back to the shop that had once been her sanctuary.

The metallic clang of steel echoed in the distance, drawing closer with every passing second. Mei’s fingers trembled as she wrapped the last of the dried herbs into a bundle, stuffing it into a compartment in her satchel. The faint glow of a talisman flickered near the doorframe, her only ward against the men coming for her.

“Open up!” a rough voice barked from outside, followed by the heavy thud of a boot against the door.

Her heart raced, her mind calculating. The talisman wouldn’t hold long. She glanced at the storage hatch behind the counter—her escape route. It had been years since she’d needed to use it, but the mechanism was still sharp in her memory.

The second thud was louder, and the doorframe creaked. Mei clenched her fists, forcing herself to act. Ducking behind the counter, she reached for the hatch and pulled it open with quiet precision.

The third thud was accompanied by a splintering crack as the door bursts inward. Heavy footsteps pounded across the wooden floor, and the scent of sweat and steel filled the air.

“Find her,” one of the men growled.

Mei slipped through the hatch, her movements fluid despite her pounding heart. The alley was cold, damp, and slick with the remnants of the evening rainstorm. She pressed herself against the wall, her breath shallow as she listened to the chaos inside her shop.

She didn’t linger. Her feet carried her silently through the narrow alleys, her scarf pulled tight around her face. By the time the mercenaries realized she was gone, she was already blending into the crowd at the marketplace, her satchel clutched tightly against her chest.

“Let’s get moving! It's a long way to the Ashen Wastes,” The caravan master’s shout snapped Mei back to the present. She blinked, steadying herself as the travelers around her began to stir.

The wagons creaked as they rolled back onto the dirt road, the rhythmic groan of wheels filling the air. Mei adjusted the strap of her satchel and walked alongside the caravan, her steps slow but purposeful. The faint rustle of leaves in the nearby forest brought her mind back to Tianshi Lake City, to the smell of rain, the glow of the talisman, and the heavy footsteps.

Her gaze drifted toward the boy she had treated earlier. He sat beside his mother on the wagon, his bandaged arm resting in his lap. For all the fear Mei carried, moments like this grounded her. She couldn’t save everyone, but she could save someone.

And yet, as the caravan moved on, her thoughts returned to Jin Wu. The old scoundrel’s sly smile. His knack for weaving impossible schemes. The way he always seemed one step ahead—until he wasn’t.

“How are you, Jin Wu?” Mei murmured under her breath, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Are you still alive?”

She had heard the Eternal Harmony Sect had been destroyed but believed in his knack for surviving.

The caravan turned a bend in the road, and Mei adjusted her scarf again, pulling it lower over her face. The faint scent of herbs clung to her hands, mingling with the earthy air of the forest.

She would stay with these people for now, helping where she could and keeping her head down. But she couldn’t let her guard down.

Not until she knew he was safe.