Jin Wu stood in the shop's doorway, shifting from foot to foot. No trace of the old man he usually projected could be seen. He glanced around the dimly lit room, taking in the myriad jars of herbs and potions. He breathed deeply, the familiar scent of rosewood filling his nostrils.

"Well, get going!. And don't come back unless you've gone to see my niece," yelled Mei, her voice stern, her arms crossed, but the thinnest of smiles broke through her demeanor.

"I will. I promise. It was good to see you, Mei, thank you!"

He lifted the bottle in his hand with the elixir, "Sorry for the trouble. I know I’m just an old thorn in your side."

“Oh, please. You think I did this for you? Don’t flatter yourself.” She softened a little, smirking. “But you’re family. Thorns and all.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out, and he sighed while rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'll get going now," he mumbled, exiting the shop. At the end of the alley, he glanced over his shoulder one last time, half-expecting to see Mei watching him from the doorway. Instead, the door was firmly shut, as if to say, no excuses, no turning back.

“See her, she says,” he thought as he stepped into the morning sun. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one who left. But as he walked away, feeling the elixir in his pocket like a silent reminder, he couldn’t quite shake the thought that maybe… just maybe… Mei was right.

He grumbled as he weaved around the crowded city—cities were great, except for the people. Nearly an hour later, he made it outside to the stable that housed the crane.

"Hey, chicken, let's go home," he said as he mounted the majestic bird.

The crane lifted off with a powerful beat of its wings, Jin Wu clung to its back, squinting as the city shrank beneath him. The early morning sun bathed the rooftops in a warm glow, and he allowed himself to enjoy the view for a moment. Tianshi Lake City was beautiful from here—its chaotic streets and clustered buildings reduced to a peaceful pattern of colors and lines.

Before heading home, however, he purposefully made the crane circle the city.

Just as he expected, a collection of tents and banners pitched in neat, disciplined rows on the outskirts.

“Hmm. So you’re not just passing through,” Jin Wu murmured, his brow furrowing.

He guided the crane into a wider circle, lingering just long enough to make out a few figures milling around the camp. There were rows of soldiers training with blunted spears, and he spotted the Master from the Golden Dragon, pacing around with a scowl on his face as he barked orders at the mercenaries.

“That’s quite the gathering you’ve got there,” Jin Wu thought, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. “Whoever’s paying for this setup must have deep pockets—and an even deeper grudge.”

He considered swooping lower for a better look, but the crane squawked in protest, tilting its head as if it didn’t share his enthusiasm for a closer view of the camp.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, patting the bird’s neck. “Just trying to get a sense of what kind of trouble is brewing.”

As they rose higher, he let his gaze linger on the mercenary camp below, estimating the size of the force. He wasn’t sure what they were planning, but he’d lived long enough to know that groups like this didn’t gather for anything good.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that his quiet life was about to become a lot more complicated.

----------------------------------------

It had been three days since Jin Wu returned to the Eternal Harmony Sect. Fortunately, Mei’s elixir had cured Feng Wei, and the young man was recuperating. Unfortunately, he was not well enough to participate in the finals, and Nian Ru easily won.

It was a chilly late afternoon, and Jin Wu meandered toward the library, lost in thought. As he shuffled, not a single master passed by. Typically, the sect was full of activity, but today, all seemed eerily quiet.

As he neared the library—his next destination—the first snowflakes started to fall.

“Early snow is sure to mean a cold winter,” he muttered, looking at the gray sky.

Just as he reached the door, a static buzz sounded, and the faint smell of ozone lingered in the air.

Had time gone so quickly? He was sure it wasn’t time to test the sect’s defensive array. Yet the sign that it had been turned on was unmistakable.

The masters knew their business. Who was he to question them? Yet, the unease in him grew, like an itch just beneath his skin.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The library was unusually packed. It was almost as if every disciple had decided to read today. The “Ferrets” waited for him at the usual spot—a table recessed in the back where the last shelf stood, embedded in a nook in the left wall. The shelf was full of old, forgotten tomes, pieces of scrolls, and other odd items the library had collected over centuries and refused to throw out.

Jin Wu started to dust the shelf—a subterfuge to disguise their meeting. The forgotten relics collected the most dust, and Jin Wu carefully and lovingly dusted each. He knew them all as if they were his personal friends. A worn tome grandly titled Dragon Art of the Nine Heavens. A partial scroll with the words Purple Mansion Grand Unity written at the top. There were codexes, sutras, compendiums, legacies, and canons—all proven useless or incomprehensible. Even a small painting of a river meandering through a forest with a lone fisherman lazily sitting with his back on a tree trunk, his line cast. The lush greens of the painting contrasted with the purple and yellows of its ametrine frame.

Jin Wu’s hand paused over the painting, his gaze lingering on the fisherman. What would you do, old friend, if trouble came to your quiet riverbank?

“Ears, why are all these disciples at the library today?” he asked, setting the painting back in place.

Ears glanced around and shrugged. “The Hallmasters had a special class with the senior disciples and sent all the juniors to the library. We almost had to fight for the table. It would be worse, but all the Nians left this morning. Something about their Patriarch’s birthday.”

“Master Jin, what will we do without the five thousand taels?” Rabbit asked, his voice low and anxious.

“Worried about your stomach? Something will come up,” Jin Wu answered absentmindedly, but he barely heard his own voice. The faint smell of burning lingered in the air, hidden under the scent of dust and parchment.

The sound of thunder rattled the windows, and Jin Wu looked up. The hunched posture and mild expression slipped away, revealing a hard, focused gaze. For a moment, he was no longer “Master Jin the Caretaker,” but Jin Wu, a man who’d seen death and survived it.

Some disciples looked up from their reading at the unusual rumbles, the library filling with whispers. But Jin Wu’s instincts screamed that something was wrong. Very wrong.

A wave of purple light crashed through the library’s window, bathing everything around it in twisted, unnatural shades. The ground rattled before a thunderous roar made the stone walls vibrate.

“Ears, Shadow, Rabbit!” Jin Wu’s voice cut through the confusion, sharp and commanding. “Run to the grotto. Now.”

The boys froze, their eyes wide, but Ears quickly recovered, his gaze flicking to Jin Wu with a mixture of fear and understanding.

“Shadow,” Jin Wu continued, his tone steely. “By the cot, there’s a smooth round stone; turn it a quarter to the left. There’s a trap door under the bed. Go in and close it. Quickly.”

“But, Master Jin—” Rabbit stammered, his face pale.

“Don’t let anything or anyone stop you!” Jin Wu barked, his gaze fierce. “And don’t come out until I come for you. Go!”

The “Ferrets” nodded, glancing at each other before darting off into the rows of bookshelves, their footsteps muffled by the thick library carpets. Jin Wu watched them disappear, his jaw set and his heart steady.

As he took a deep breath, the last vestiges of his “caretaker” mask fell away. He glanced around the library one last time, steeling himself.

“If they want this place,” he muttered to himself, feeling the weight of his years but also the fire of his purpose, “they’ll have to go through me first.”

With that, he strode toward the entrance, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

----------------------------------------

The purple beam of energy cut through the treetops, setting them ablaze before colliding with the shield projected by the defensive array. The impact was felt more than heard—a deep, resonating crack echoed across the mountains. The shield shimmered, casting rainbow-hued reflections across the treetops as fissures spread like spiderwebs across its surface. Sect Master Li exhaled in relief, but it was short-lived. A second beam struck, and with a thunderous explosion, the shield shattered into energy fragments, disintegrating into the air like shattered glass. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, everything was silent.

Then, the black pagoda loomed closer, filling the void.

The seven-tiered pagoda floated ominously above the tree line, its obsidian-like surface absorbing the bright October moon’s light, making it seem like a void moving through the sky. The massive structure halted over the Sect’s main complex, and from its base, thirty men clad in black shot out on flying swords, their eyes cold and emotionless above dark cloth masks.

Sect Master Li, flanked by the Hallmasters and twenty of the sect’s masters, rose on their flying artifacts to meet the threat. Their seldom-drawn weapons gleamed in the moonlight, casting a thin line of hope against the encroaching darkness. But as the two forces met, the oppressive aura of the invaders bore down like a storm, making the defenders’ powerful auras feel like little more than whispers in the wind.

The Sect Master’s jian sliced through the air, sending a crescent wave of green energy filled with sword intent toward the assailants. But it collided with a powerful purple beam, and his attack disintegrated in a flash of light. Ten invaders broke off to engage the defenders, their dark weapons meeting the bright steel of the sect’s masters.

In the chaos, young Master Han—a fresh Foundation Establishment cultivator—was the first to fall. A spear slipped past his guard, puncturing his right lung. The attacker twisted the spear as he withdrew, and Master Han screamed, blood splattering the air. Another thrust and the invader’s blade slashed across his neck, ending his life before his body hit the ground.

“Nooo!” Sect Master Li cried, his voice raw with grief as his youngest pupil fell. Fury surged within him, and he slashed with renewed ferocity, but the black-clad leader deflected each strike with effortless precision, his laughter cold and mocking.

Meanwhile, below, the sect grounds had become a scene of horror. Thousands of black-clad soldiers flooded through the shattered barrier, clashing with senior disciples. Lin Hua, a senior disciple, stood his ground in front of a group of his hallmates, his glaive held steady. “Get behind me!” he shouted, summoning every ounce of his courage as he unleashed a blazing arc of energy toward the soldiers. It bought them mere seconds, but he stood tall, ready to sacrifice everything for his sect.

The acrid stench of burning wood and flesh filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. The serene courtyards and meditation gardens were littered with bodies, the once-sacred grounds soaked in violence. The cries of the wounded and dying drowned out the soothing sounds of autumn, replaced by an orchestra of pain and terror.

Seven invaders squared off against the three remaining masters in the sky. Outmatched, the defenders formed a defensive triangle shoulder-to-shoulder, their expressions resolute despite the overwhelming odds. Slashes and thrusts empowered by blazing essence energy collided, sending shockwaves that shattered rooftops below.

The leader of the assailants, his masked face painted with a red, leering grin, raised his broadsword and unleashed a beam of purple energy that tore through the night. Sect Master Li blocked it, but the impact hurled him hundreds of meters backward, crashing him through the trees. His two companions were less fortunate—the beam cut them in two, their bodies disintegrating in a flash of energy.

As Sect Master Li struggled to rise, memories of peaceful days with his disciples flashed before his eyes. He clenched his sword, vowing to stand even if it meant his life. But before he could regain his footing, the masked leader descended and ended his life with a brutal, efficient strike.

The leader turned to his men, his voice cold. “Burn it all. Rid the world of their foul presence.”

Explosions resounded throughout the sect as the invaders blasted each building, leaving only rubble in their wake. In the center of the destruction, the great oak tree—a symbol of the sect’s legacy—was set aflame, its ancient branches crackling and curling into ash. By the time the attackers moved on, all that remained was a smoldering stump, an unmarked grave for a thousand years of peace.

The Eternal Harmony Sect was no more.

----------------------------------------

The “Ferrets” had disappeared into the night, moving swiftly toward the grotto and, hopefully, to safety.

The distant booms and flashes of purple light reflected through the cracked windows, casting eerie shadows across the rows of ancient texts. Shouts and screams of agony filled the air. In contrast, the library was silent, as if it were holding its breath—a final sanctuary untouched by the violence consuming the sect.

A faint tremor ran through the floor, and somewhere above, the sound of stone cracking echoed through the walls. Jin Wu’s faint smile faded as he straightened, letting his old-man mask slip entirely. For a moment, he was once again Jin Wu, the warrior, not the humble caretaker.

He thought of the “Ferrets” running through the woods and weighed the option of slipping away himself… but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the younger disciples behind. They were just children, after all.

“They’re quick-witted and know how to move unseen,” he reassured himself, hoping it was true.

He turned to the other disciples huddled around the tables, his voice sharp and clear. “All of you—bring the tables. Help me barricade the door!”

The young disciples blinked in surprise, but his commanding tone spurred them into action. Desks and shelves scraped across the floor as they piled them high against the entrance, a makeshift barrier against the inevitable.

When they finished, Jin Wu took a long look at the young faces turned toward him, their eyes wide with fear. He offered them a slight, steady nod as if to say everything would be alright—even though he knew better.

Then he turned back to face the door, his gaze hardening, his jaw set. There was no anger, no fear—only a quiet resolve that came from a life spent on the edge of battle.