Back at the Savannah courtyard, the world was quiet except for the faint hum of cicadas and the slow rustle of wind brushing against the tall, dry grass.

Wei Ji sat still on the wooden porch, the moonlight painting his skin with a faint silver hue. His hand hovered just above Lu Shaohua's neck, fingers trembling slightly. He could end it now—one clean strike, no noise, no hesitation. It would be easy. Too easy.

But as he looked down at her face, her soft breathing brushing against his sleeve, his killing intent flickered and then weakened.

Her arms were wrapped around him, clinging even in sleep, her head resting on his shoulder as if she trusted him completely. That fragile, unguarded warmth seeped through his chest and tangled around his heart.

He exhaled slowly. The edge in his eyes softened.

He turned away, his gaze falling to the flowers swaying nearby—the same ones she had planted in the courtyard, pale blue blossoms glowing faintly under the moonlight. They looked fragile, yet somehow eternal, just like her.

A strange calm washed over him. For a moment, he just stared at them. Then his eyes blurred, and before he realized it, another scene began to play in his mind—distant, hazy, like a dream that refused to fade.

A garden.

The scent of dew and wild honey. The sound of a woman's laughter echoing among the petals.

He was small then, maybe ten, standing awkwardly in the middle of the flower garden while a woman in white bent over the blossoms. Her hands were delicate, her movements graceful as she tied the vines to a bamboo stick. When she turned to look at him, her eyes shone like starlight through a veil of mist.

"Do you know their name, Wei Ji?" she had asked softly, her voice gentle but clear.

He had shaken his head. "No, Mother."

She smiled and beckoned him closer. "This one is called the Moonpetal. It only blooms when the night is calm and the heart is still. You mustn't touch it carelessly, or it will wilt before dawn."

He had nodded, watching her fingers brush the petals as if they were sacred. Her voice continued, slow and tender, almost like a song.

"You'll understand one day. Flowers are like people, Wei Ji. The stronger they seem, the more fragile they are. You must protect what you wish to keep, but never by force. The moment you crush something too tightly, it dies."

He had looked up at her, her long hair swaying with the wind, her smile fading slowly.

"Promise me, Wei Ji," she whispered, kneeling to his height. "Promise that even when the world turns against you, you'll never lose the warmth inside your heart."

The memory lingered, bright and painful.

Wei Ji blinked and suddenly found himself staring at the same flowers again. His breath caught in his throat. The garden was gone, replaced by Lu Shaohua sleeping beside him, the scent of blood faint under the night air.

He shook his head hard. "What... was that?" he muttered. "A dream?"

He pressed his temples, his pulse uneven. It felt too real.

Then, suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.

Someone got off.

His senses sharpened instantly. He could feel the faint ripple of spiritual energy—a trace of movement connected to his saplings disappeared.

Wei Ji's eyes narrowed. He gently pried Lu Shaohua's hands away and laid her down on the porch, careful not to wake her.

The next moment, his expression turned cold. He vanished from his spot, leaving only a gust of wind and a faint shimmer of light.

"Someone escaped," he hissed, his voice like frost.

His spiritual Qi burst from his feet, launching him forward with a thunderous crack. The ground split under the force, dust scattering behind him. He sped across the courtyard, his cloak snapping in the wind as his killing intent surged like a rising tide.

That presence—he recognized it now. The one who had seen Lu Shaohua earlier. The one who had slipped away when he was distracted.

His jaw tightened, rage flashing in his eyes.

After all the schemes he had put in place to shield her from the Demon Sect's notice, after all the traps and hidden threads he'd woven in silence, another pest dared to crawl out and ruin everything.

"Damn it," he muttered, his Qi flaring brighter. "You think you can run?"

He leapt across the rooftops, the wind howling past his ears. Every muscle in his body burned with raw fury.

If it took burning down the entire Sword Shandian Sect, so be it.

To him, they were all insects. Arrogant, self-righteous, blind insects pretending to be righteous cultivators while playing in filth.

He would crush them all.

…

Back at the Han Family Main Hall, chaos still lingered in the air from the earlier tremors. Dust floated in the fading candlelight, and the servants stood frozen in fear. Everyone's gaze was fixed on the cracked marble floor where the hand had emerged moments ago.

Then, with a grinding sound, the rest of the figure rose from the ground—a man dressed in the robes of the Sword Shandian Sect. His face was pale, streaked with dirt, his eyes blinking in confusion as he took in his surroundings.

The elders stared, startled.

"Inner disciple Ren?" someone gasped. "You… you disappeared earlier during the test!"

The man blinked, swaying slightly. "Huh? Huh? What… happened?"

Several disciples rushed forward. "Senior, we thought you were meditating in seclusion. You vanished without a trace! Did something happen?"

He looked down at his hands, frowning deeply. His spiritual energy was in disarray, like a storm that had been ripped apart. He touched his chest, muttering under his breath.

"I… was with someone," he said slowly. "Yes. There was a girl."

The disciples looked at each other, startled. "A girl? Did you—"

"Yes," he said suddenly, snapping his fingers as the memory flashed before him. "I remember now. There was a strong presence, and a girl… we sensed a surge of spiritual Qi and went to investigate. She was beautiful, calm, but strange. I tried to ask her name—then… everything went dark."

He looked around again, confused. "Why am I back here?"

No one answered. The hall was dead silent.

The Han Family Patriarch frowned. "What girl are you talking about, Elder Ren?"

The man didn't respond immediately. His eyes unfocused, his breath quickened. Slowly, confusion twisted into something else—an ugly, raw emotion that made the air heavy again.

His fists clenched.

And then, his entire body trembled.

A faint pulse of killing intent leaked from him, sharp enough that the nearest disciples flinched back. His pupils contracted as he suddenly shouted, voice cracking through the hall like thunder.

"It was him!" he roared, veins bulging at his temples. "That bastard—he's the one who made me sleep!"

His aura erupted. Spiritual energy poured out of his body in violent waves, slamming into the walls and scattering furniture like straw. The disciples cried out, some falling to the ground as the pressure crushed against their chests.

The elders instantly raised their swords, stepping forward to restrain him.

"Inner disciple Ren, control yourself!" one shouted. "You're in the Han Family Hall!"

But Ren didn't hear them. His face was twisted in rage, his voice low and trembling with fury.

"I'll kill him," he growled, eyes burning. "He made me sleep—he humiliated me!"

"Who?" the Patriarch demanded.

Ren's head snapped up, his teeth bared like a beast's. "The guy named Han Ji."

The name fell into the silence like a blade.

The hall went still again. Only the sound of Ren's ragged breathing filled the air as his killing intent spread wider, darker, a storm waiting to break.

And far away, beneath the moonlit courtyard, Wei Ji was already moving toward him.

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