The sound of battle continued to ripple across the valley like distant thunderclaps.
Whhrumm—BOOM!
A pulse of sword light lit up the treetops, followed by a sharp, violent explosion of blood-red energy that montarily outshone the stars above. From afar, one could see spectral arcs of sword qi spiraling through the night like shooting stars, clashing against jagged bursts of crimson spiritual power.
The clash was chaotic, but sohow evenly matched.
Despite the considerable distance, everyone at the outpost could feel it.
Even outer court disciples, normally incapable of sensing qi beyond their imdiate surroundings, could feel the hair on their arms standing up from the violent resonance in the air. Spiritual energy flickered with unease across the formation lines of the encampnt.
Then—rumors began to spread.
"It’s the Shattered Blood Vessel Sect!"
"I heard it from Senior Brother Jia—he just returned from the formation relay. He confird it."
"That can’t be right... Why would they attack us?"
"They’ve always kept to themselves, haven’t they?"
"I’ve never even seen a disciple from that sect before..."
The murmurs spread like wildfire.
Even though most disciples remained at their posts or in assigned defensive positions, the tension in the air now had a new edge—not just fear, but confusion.
There was no history of enmity. No feud, no ancient grudge between the Twin Leaf Peak Sect and the Shattered Blood Vessel Sect. In fact, most couldn’t recall a single confrontation between disciples of the two factions, let alone full-blown combat.
Unorthodox though they were, the Blood Vessel Sect had a longstanding reputation of neutrality, rarely participating in the power struggles of the cultivation world.
So why now?
Why here?
And why so boldly?
Han Yu leaned back against the tree where his hammock was tied, his eyes half-closed as he listened to the wind. Wu Shuan and Fatty Kui remained nearby, watching the direction of the battle. A few inner court disciples had begun making rounds, preparing for the worst.
But Han Yu’s focus was inward.
His mind churned.
"Sothing’s off," he muttered softly.
"Still thinking about the Blood Vessel Sect?" Wu Shuan asked.
Han Yu nodded. "It doesn’t make sense. They aren’t strong enough to provoke a major sect like ours... unless they’ve grown in secret. Or unless this attack isn’t about fighting us."
"You think it’s a distraction?" Fatty Kui asked, voice hushed.
"...Maybe," Han Yu said. "Or maybe they’re here for sothing. Or soone."
He tapped his fingers against the tree bark.
"Chitterfang," he called through their bond, "return to ."
"Already on my way back," the rat replied. "Didn’t like the look of that last explosion. Big one."
The rat soon returned, skittering down a tree near the edge of camp before leaping onto Han Yu’s shoulder with practiced ease. He buried himself under Han Yu’s outer robe, resting on the alchemist’s collarbone like a living scarf.
Han Yu stroked his fur gently and whispered, "Did you sense anyone else?"
"No. I made three full circuits around the camp. Nothing. No scent trails, no movent, no spiritual fluctuations nearby. The only ones hiding are scared outer disciples."
Han Yu’s lips tightened.
That was the answer he expected, but not the one he wanted.
"Damn..." he murmured.
"It doesn’t add up," Han Yu muttered under his breath. "There’s no history, no enmity... no reason. Unless..."
He narrowed his eyes.
Unless the attackers weren’t just out there.
"What if they’re already in here?" he whispered.
The feeling in his gut still lingered. The sense that this wasn’t over. That there was more to it than a sudden attack.
Then—an idea struck him.
Wu Shuan looked at him sharply. "What are you thinking?"
Han Yu didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and dusted off his robes, then raised his voice just enough for those nearby to hear.
"The Shattered Blood Vessel Sect must be desperate," he said. "Attacking a major sect without provocation? Madness. Absolute madness."
No reaction. Just the murmuring wind and the rustle of tents.
Han Yu’s expression sharpened.
"They’ve always been cowards anyway," he continued, louder. "Lurking in their little backwater swamp like worms. Barely a sect, really. A bunch of blood-soaked lunatics clinging to forbidden techniques."
Still nothing. Not even a twitch.
He went on.
"Maybe they finally ran out of resources. Or maybe their Sect Master finally went insane and threw them off a cliff. I hear they drink blood like wine—makes sense they’ve rotted their brains."
A few nearby disciples gave him puzzled looks, but Han Yu didn’t stop.
"They’re parasites. Failed cultivators playing dress-up in robes dyed with their own spit-up blood. Disgusting freaks who aren’t even worth calling human!"
The mont the last word left his mouth—
—It ca.
A single, nearly invisible wisp of red qi floated through the air.
Subtle.
Thin as a thread of spider silk.
But to Han Yu’s trained senses—and more importantly, his Undying Destiny Severance Technique—it was like a trumpet blast to the soul.
His breath caught.
That wasn’t ordinary energy.
That was Eight Emotions Energy.
Anger. Sharp. Condensed. Controlled.
And it had co from within the camp.
He didn’t look directly at the source. Instead, he let his gaze wander idly, mind racing.
"So it’s true," he murmured, voice low enough for only Wu Shuan and Fatty Kui to hear. "There’s soone here."
"A spy?" Wu Shuan’s expression turned grim.
"Worse," Han Yu replied, his tone clipped. "A mber. Soone from the Shattered Blood Vessel Sect is here. Hidden. Watching."
Fatty Kui’s face paled. "But how—? No one entered camp. We’re still inside sect territory..."
Han Yu slowly sat back down, hiding his shifting emotions behind a calm exterior. "Then they were already among us. Probably disguised. Maybe even pretending to be a disciple of one of the minor peaks."
He reached down and gently stroked Chitterfang’s head. The rat remained perfectly still, already understanding.
"New plan," Han Yu whispered. "We don’t expose them yet. If we do, they’ll bolt, or worse—do sothing dangerous."
"What will we do?" Wu Shuan asked.
Han Yu’s eyes glinted in the moonlight, a quiet fire dancing within them.
"We’ll wait," he said. "And when they slip up..."
He smiled coldly.
"...I’ll be ready."
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