If I can’t take your life, he thought calmly, then I’ll take what gives it value.
He reached past her and yanked the sect insignia from her chest. The fabric tore free in his grasp, tearing away the embroidery symbol from her chest causing her to gasp as she was knocked out backwards, struggling to catch her breath.
The emblem struck the stone and ca to rest, its shape instantly recognisable. Then his foot ca down. The heel crushed fabric and tal together, grinding the insignia into the arena floor until threads split and the emblem warped out of recognition. When he lifted his foot, nothing remained but a flattened, sared imprint ground into the stone.
"Stage Nine," he said , His gaze dropped to her for a mont—just long enough to take in her slumped posture, He suddenly lifted his foot again and slamd it onto her face, pressing down with relentless force.
For a heartbeat, the arena froze.
The sound seed to vanish—not silence, but suspension—as if no one was quite certain how to react to what they had just seen.
Then it broke.
So disciples stood rigid, their mouths half-open, as the mont refused to fit into their understanding. A few didn’t laugh or sneer at all. Their gazes dropped instead, brows tightening as sothing uneasy settled in their chests.
Disappointnt intertwined with a subtle, unsettling sadness, the kind that arises from witnessing sothing cherished fall apart entirely.
Others responded more quickly. Faces contorted. The shock dissipated, revealing sothing more acute behind."Damn it," soone snapped suddenly, voice cutting through the pause. "I lost three hundred low-grade stones on her."
A short laugh followed. Then another.
"Stage Nine, my ass."
"So this is what all that reputation was worth?"
The laughter spread unevenly, brittle at first, then more confident as restraint slipped away. Contempt bled into it, feeding on disappointnt. Admiration curdled into irritation, then into open judgnt.
At that mont, Elder Ning Ruyan also descended into the arena. The pressure of her presence alone was enough. Voices cut out mid-sentence, Laughter abruptly ceased as if snapped in two, she avoided eye contact with the crowd and even a masked disciple. She went straight to Bai Shaoyue.
Ning Ruyan lifted Bai Shaoyue with a firm grasp, one arm securely beneath her shoulder. It wasn’t until she turned that the crowd noticed sothing was amiss, and the hush persisted long after she disappeared toward her mountain peak.
The insignia lay crushed into the stone, threads split. No one rushed to retrieve it. It remained where it was—trampled, abandoned—like a mistake everyone pretended not to recognise.
Elsewhere-
After departing from the Iron Butcher Union, the Silent Fang cultivators moved at an unhurried pace through the mountain paths.
Their formation remained intact, steps light and disciplined, but the speed was slow enough to feel deliberate rather than cautious. Every so often, one of them would glance toward the front of the group—toward their leader.
Haru.
He walked with his hands loosely tucked into his sleeves, posture relaxed, expression carefree as ever, as though they were out on a casual patrol rather than racing another faction toward a high-value target.
The glances grew more frequent.
Finally, one of the cultivators at the rear clenched his jaw, gathered his courage, and spoke.
"Senior Brother Haru," he asked carefully, "shouldn’t we be focusing on the mission?"
Heavy silence draped over the mountain, setting like a thick fog.
The cultivator swallowed hard and pressed forward. "If we keep stalling... Won’t the Iron Butcher Union beat us to him?" He asked
The question hung in the air.
Suddenly, all conversation ceased. Footsteps slowed to a halt. Every mber of Silent Fang looked sharply toward Haru, awaiting his response.
Haru smiled, but the feeling around him shifted. A quiet pressure rolled outward, "Of course we’ll capture him," Haru said, amused — as if the outco had never been in doubt.
He took one more step, then stopped. His eyes lifted toward the sky, expression thoughtful, as if listening to sothing only he could hear.
"...But now might be the right ti," he muttered. Haru turned around, sleeves swaying as he faced the group fully.
"We’ve received two missions," he continued, "The first was straightforward to eliminate a few troubleso cultivators from rival organisations."His gaze sharpened slightly."But then this bounty ca in.
"That changed everything."
Haru raised his hand and pointed toward three cultivators standing near the back—each at Stage Five."You three," he said. "You’ll continue with the original bounty mission."The nad cultivators straightened imdiately.
"The rest of you," Haru continued, sweeping his gaze across the group, "co with ."Our new target," Haru said, lips curling upward, "is the Iron Butcher Union."
A ripple passed through the formation—small, restrained, but unmistakable. The space around Haru felt tighter for it. "Let them exhaust themselves chasing prey," he said. "We’ll take what’s left—quietly."
He raised his hand again. Three talismans flew from his sleeve, landing neatly in the hands of the Stage Five cultivators.
"If you locate the target," Haru said casually, "or if things go bad—activate these. We’ll co."
"Move out," Haru ordered.
The formation split smoothly, without hesitation. Two groups turned in opposite directions, disappearing into the mountain paths with practised efficiency.
Haru watched them go for a mont, a smile lingering.
Then he turned, shadows already gathering at his heels, and led Silent Fang the other way.
...
Chen Wuji had been wandering the mountain paths for far longer than he liked."Don’t tell I chose the wrong direction again," he muttered, voice rough with frustration.
If he failed to locate the target—or even bring back sothing useful—this mission would end the sa way the others had.
Failure—Chen Wuji loathed how unsettlingly familiar that word was to him. He convinced himself it was just a matter of circumstance—bad assignnts and worse timing.
Shadows of others lood larger than his own, stretching longer and darker. Despite how he dressed it up, the outco remained unaltered, an unchangeable truth that gnawed at him.
He exhaled slowly, irritation tightening into sothing heavier.
"Trash luck,"
...
He stopped beneath a tall, broad-canopied tree and started climbing. The branches creaked softly as he settled near the top, finally allowing himself to pause. His spiritual energy was thin, with sluggish circulation. He needed rest, even if only for a short while.
From that height, the forest opened up.
That was when he saw it. A narrow waterfall, half-hidden by rock and foliage, spilling into a shallow pool below. The sound barely reached him—more vibration than noise.
Chen Wuji blinked.
"...Didn’t notice that before."
He paused, then started down. I’ll take a look before resting, he thought. The waterfall was closer than it had appeared from above. It didn’t take long for him to reach the waterfall.
The air was cooler there, against his skin. Without thinking much of it, Chen Wuji began loosening his outer robe, intent on rinsing off the sweat and gri before resting properly.
Then he froze. His eyes shifted, slowly, toward the base of the waterfall.
Soone was there. A young man sat cross-legged near the water’s edge, posture straight, eyes closed, breath steady. The mist curled around him, dampening his presence.
Chen Wuji’s heart jumped.
For a second, real fear hit him, as the thought crossed his mind that he might have walked into sothing far beyond him.
Then he looked again.
The man by the water didn’t feel overwheld. Chen Wuji frowned slightly.
...Familiar.
So this is where you were hiding," His expression tightened irritation flashing across his face before he forced it down. A laugh threatened to escape but he stopped himself.
No, I can’t laugh yet.
He took a careful breath, steadying himself. The fear eased, replaced by a rising excitent that quickened his pulse.
This wasn’t bad luck after all.
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