The Battlefield tdown

  One minute.

  Lay's breath was steady, her mind running through every moving piece of the battlefield like a grand game board. Her soldiers moved swiftly betweerees and cliffs, darting in and out of view. From the north, archers rained hell upon the Serpe's front lines, f them to hesitate. From the east, traps hiddeh the underbrush activated, spikes impaling unsuspeg warriors.

  Everything roceeding as she had predicted.

  Two minutes.

  In the sect's ranks, murmurs turo fident cheers.

  "Look at them scatter!" One warrihed as he drove his bde into a fallen enemy. "Like headless chis in a storm!"

  "And to think they thought they'd outst us!" Another scoffed, twisting his spear free from a writhing foe. "Meilin pnned for everything. We could be drinking by sunrise!"

  "Someo Shen Mu a map," a younger disciple jeered, loosing an arrow into the chaos. "He looks lost."

  To them, the battle was unfolding precisely as Meilin had orchestrated. They could win this.

  And then—

  The enemy forces had started to panic, their tight formations disrupted by the guerril tactics. Her cultivators struck hard areated, aying long enough for retaliation. Shen Mu was gathering his bearings, standing amidst the chaos like an unmovable pilr. He had uimated her—expected a war of attrition, not a sughter in the shadows.

  Lay's fingers curled around the hilt of her bde. He's starting to realize.

  Three minutes has passed.

  I have two minutes left before we win this war. This is easier than-

  A pulse of raw energy surged through the battlefield, sending chills down Lay's spine. What?

  She turned her gaze toward Shen Mu, and what she saw made her stomach twist.

  The air around him wavered like a mirage, his qi densing into an almost physical force. The ground cracked beh his feet as he let out a deep, guttural roar. His body twisted unnaturally, his arms flexing as veins bulged across his skin. A sickly crimson aura bled from his body, like steam rising from fresh blood.

  Then he moved.

  Like a beast uned, he tore through the battlefield, his fists crashing into the earth with enough force to shatter stohis is not normal qi usage. This was something else—a martial art so brutal and unrefihat it seemed almost self-destructive.

  Lay's breath hitched as she saw him tear through her forces, his fists pulverizing soldiers, his kicks sending bodies flying into trees. He was not just fighting—he was ing everything in his path with sheer force.

  For the first time in a long, long time—

  She felt fear.

  Shen Mu's eyes locked onto her.

  Then, he leaped. Straight towards her tower.

  A powerful strike sent the eructure crumbling, debris crashing down around her. Lay braced herself, but before the full weight of the colpse could crush her, a figure smmed into her, pushing her clear of the falling wreckage.

  Bao.

  His body shielded her, his breath ragged. Lay stared in disbelief, but before she could eve—

  Shen Mu was there.

  A blur of motion—

  A siing crack—

  Bao's body hurled across the battlefield, smming into a shattered pilr with a siing ch. Agony exploded through his ribs as he felt something crack—his breath came in ragged, shallos. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, his shoulder dislocated from the impact. Blood trickled from his forehead, blurring his visio he forced himself to move, even as his body screamed in protest. Every inhale was a stab of fire in his lungs, every twitch of his muscles sent searing pain through his nerves. Yet, even through the haze of suffering, his eyes sought Meilin—was she safe?

  Lay's vision locked onto Bao. A siing ess spread through her limbs as she screamed his name. She barely registered what was gonna happe as she tried to move, her instincts screaming at her to dodge. But before she could react, before even another sweat of hers drop

  A foot collided with her stomach.

  The force of Shen Mu's kick sent her flying, her ribs fracturing on impact. A grotesque ch echoed in her ears as her back smmed against the ruins of her tower. Paihrough every ealing the air from her lungs. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. She gasped—owice—before finally coughing, red mist spraying from her lips. Her inner qi was scrambling to keep her alive. She could feel her body energy no longer being stable.

  Her arms trembled as she tried to push herself up. She couldn't.

  Shen Mu stalked toward her, his crimson aura seething with urained malice. Every moveme fresh agony through her broken body. Her vision swam, her head throbbing from where debris had struck her skull.

  She had never felt this fragile before.

  She had never felt so close to death.

  And as Shen Mu loomed over her, grinning like a beast eyeing its wounded prey—

  She felt something she had abandoned long ago.

  Fear.

  The Desperate Escape

  Emery ran.

  This is ridiculous. Absolutely, painfully ridiculous.

  It had started as a simple errand. He had go to procure additional materials for his test projee that, in theory, would revolutionize small-scale bustion meics. But of course, nothing could ever be simple.

  The vendor had tried to overcharge him. And being Emery—logical, meticulous, and utterly unwilling to be scammed—he had done what any reasonable man would do.

  He lectured the vendor.

  For five minutes.

  In excruciatiail. g eic principles, material costs, and the mert's own incorrect arithmetic.

  "I don't know what kind of half-wit tele you usually deal with," Emery had said, crossing his arms. "But I assure you, I will not be extorted like some clueless farmer's son. Your prices are as infted as yo, and quite frankly, an insult to basic market iy."

  It was only when the vendor's face darkened and a man in the back cracked his knuckles that Emery began to suspect he had miscalcuted.

  The vendor's lips curled. "You talk too much."

  Then, with an almost casual flick of his fingers, he muttered something to a shadow lingering behind the stall.

  "Kill him."

  And that was how Emery found himself sprinting through the dark, clutg his life's work, praying to every stific principle he had ever respected that he wouldn't die because of a damn overprig dispute.

  His breath burned in his throat, his legs screaming for relief. His satchel, filled with his life's work, smmed against his back with every desperate step.

  Behind him, the pursuer was gaining.

  Think, damn it. Think!

  His mind raced through possibilities. He had no ons, no training in bat—but he had knowledge. That would have to be enough.

  His eyes darted to a thick, gree up ahead. There. He fumbled into his satchel, pulling free a handful of chemicals ed in part. Homemade explosives. Crude, unstable—but desperate men don't have the luxury of refi.

  With a flick of his fingers, he ighe fuse and hurled the bundle behind the tree.

  BOOM.

  Bark and dirt erupted into the air, sending a cloud of debris into his pursuer's path. Emery pushed forward, barely buying himself three seds of distance—

  Pain. A sensation he was not familiar with.

  A bde pierced into his left leg. His body twisted as he stumbled, hitting the ground hard. White-hot pain shot through his leg, spreading like fire with every twitch of his muscles. Blood pooled beh him, his vision blurring. He tried to move, but the wou another sharp jolt through his body, f a ragged gasp from his throat.

  Damn it—how much blood am I losing?

  His fingers cwed into the dirt as he fought to stay scious. I just o move. Just a little more. But the pain was relentless, his body betraying him as his strength bled away with every passing sed.

  No. Not now.

  His pursuer stepped forward, bde dripping with his blood. The air between them was suffog, filled with a presence Emery could barely prehend. His mind, so used to equations and logic, struggled to defihe way this person moved. Even in this sario all Emery could think about, was how to get out of this

  Then, in a fsh of steel—

  Zafira.

  She intercepted, her twin bdes g against the attacker's on with a force that sent shockwaves rippling through the ground and even pushed back Emery sy body.

  For the first time in three years, Emery felt something simir from Zafira. The same anger when Lay death was announced.

  Rage.

  His hands ched into fists as he tried to push himself up, but his wounded leg screamed in protest. His vision swam, but all he could focus on was Zafira, battling against a force he could barely prehend.

  Her strikes were fast, precise—yet every movement of their oppo felt unnatural, as though they were predig her moves before she made them.

  Zafira's thoughts raced as she fought. Who the hell fights like this?

  Her oppo's style wasn't just effit—it was alien. Their dodges weren't reaary, they were calcuted, as if they khe exagles to evade. She had faced assassins, warriors, qi masters—but this was something else.

  And for the first time in a long while—

  She wondered if she could actually win.

  Zafira gritted her teeth as she adjusted her stahis wasn't w. Every exge sent vibrations through her arms, the sheer impaumbing her fingers. Her oppo's bde was heavier than expected, and every parry rattled her bohis isn't just strength—it's teique, something I don't uand.

  She pivoted, shifting into a stance she had learned from a sword master in the Eastern Isles—a flowing, uable form that mimicked the ebb and flow of water. With a sharp inhale, she moved, her bde trag new patterns through the air.

  But even as she weaved between attacks, she kept an eye on Emery. The fool was still breathing, but his face was twisted in pain. And then, because it was Emery—because it had to be—he spoke, through ched teeth, in pure defiance of his own injuries.

  "I wasn't about to waste the budget on a scam artist!"

  Zafira let out a short, exasperated breath as she parries an attack "You angered a noble mert for over prig!?"

  "He started it!"

  A deep gash sliced across her cheek as she was forced to dodge at the st sed. She growled, cursing as fresh blood dripped onto her colr. Her gaze snapped back to her oppo, irritati. "Yoing to be the death of me, Emery!"

  Three minutes.

  That was how long the battle sted.

  Zafira's bde found its mark, slig through flesh and bone. A head fell to the ground, and with it, the eerie silehat followed.

  She stumbled, her breathing ragged. She had won. But at what cost? Her pride tth.

  Zafira knew her body better than anyone. And right now, it was screaming in protest. Her arms felt like lead, her grip weak against the hilt of her sword. Every inch of her body ached, her muscles torn from strain, her borembling from the impact of every blocked strike. Her ribs throbbed with every ihe deep bruisih her armor making even standing a scious effort.

  Her left shoulder stung—a shallow but sharp cut from when her oppo's bde had nearly found its mark. Blood trickled down her arm, stig to the fabrieath her armor. Worse thaernal wounds, though, was the raw, ag exhaustion deep in her core. She had pushed her body past its limit, and it was demanding repayment.

  She ched her jaw. Damn it. I had to rely on a damn teique. Again.

  Zafira prided herself orength, on her ability to carve through enemies with sheer force when necessary. But against this oppo, she hadn't been able to overpower them. She had been forced to rely on adaptation, footwork, precision—all the teiques she had learned from sword masters across the ti. And while those skills had saved her life, the realization burned in her chest like a humiliation she couldn't shake.

  She spat to the side, her expression hardening. "If I was stronger, I wouldn't have o dodge so damn much."

  Her legs buckled beh her, and before she could stop herself, she colpsed to one knee. A sharp, searing pain shot through her ribs, and she ched her jaw, suppressing a groan. Damn it. She tried to move, but her arms felt heavy, her muscles screaming in protest.

  Her fiwitched against the hilt of her sword. I overpensated. I relied too mu skill—again. I should've trained harder.

  She had trained under warriors, assassins, swordmasters from distant nds. She had studied a hundred different teiques, perfected her footwork, refined her ters. But none of it ged the fact that, in the end, she had to outthink her oppoo survive. Strength had never been her path, and that bitter truth g her now more than ever.

  Her vision blurred for a moment, her body swaying. The weight of exhaustion pressed against her like an unseen force, dragging her closer to the dirt. But she refused to colpse. Not yet. Not in front of him.

  Her gaze flicked to Emery. He was still barely holding himself together, his breathing uneven, his blood staining the grouh him. Her frustration twisted into something else entirely. She falls down with blood starting to form a pool underh her and all she thought of was

  "This idiot almost got himself killed over a budget dispute"

  Behind her, Emery forced himself to move. His vision swam as he tried to stand, his body fighting against every instinct to colpse. But he had never felt horror like this before.

  His entire life had been dictated by logic. Calcutions, probabilities, cold efficy—everything had its answer. But now, as he looked at Zafira, battered, bleeding, barely holding herself together, his mind came up empty.

  He had followed her for years, had seen her wield her bdes like an artist with a brush. Even when he could expin how those teiques sce wise, he always had watched her dahrough battles with an ease that defied everybody. But he had never seen her like this. Struggling. Hurt. Pushed to the limit.

  Something inside him cracked. Not sot logiething far more primal.

  His fingers dug into the dirt as he pushed forward, dragging himself forward despite the fire burning in his leg. Eaent was agony, yet something deeper than pain pushed him on. His throat felt raw, his mind reeliween the sharp crity of knowing what o be done and the overwhelming rage at seeing her like this.

  For the first time, sce took a backseat. Emotion ignited in its pce.

  "GET ME MEDIE! NOW DAMMIT! WHAT YOU DOING THERE STANDING LIKE IDIOTS!?"

  It wasn't a request. It wasn't a calcuted order. It was a demand—a plea—a and torn from a pside him he had never aowledged before. Not fiot for strategy. But for her.

  For the first time, his mind a aligned in the same dire.

  Logic told him to stop. That his injuries were severe. That he o think rationally.

  But logic had no pce here.

  Not when she was barely standing.

  Not when she had fought for him.

  Not when he had never once been able to fight for her.

  And so, Emery moved. Not with reason. Not with calcution. But with something far more dangerous.

  Emotion.

  The battlefield stood still, but the weight of what had transpired sank deep into every heart. The warriors of the Zafira's crew once emboldened by her now stood in silent horror. They had seen their ander fight like her life depended on it.

  Now, they saw her crumpled on the ground, struggling to move, her body bloodied and broken.

  "She... She's hurt..." one crew member stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "ander Ezra is... actually hurt."

  "No—she's still alive! She—she'll get up, right? She always does!"

  "Then why isn't she moving?!"

  The crushing realizatioled in—their unshakable ander was fallible. And if Zafira could fall, what did that mean for them?

  Meanwhile, Emery's assistant, Callum, stood frozen. He had never seen Emery lose his posure—not onot even when fag impossible calcutions, dangerous experiments, or life-threatening risks. But this was different.

  Emery wasn't analyzing. He wasn't calg.

  He was screaming.

  "STOP TALKING YOU DUMB BITCH! GET ME THE MEDIE NOW!"

  For the first time, Callum felt something ued—fear. Not of the situation, but of what would happen if Zafira died.

  A slow, methodical ch of footsteps echoed through the battlefield. Shen Mu moved with a deliberate slowness, his eyes locked on Meilin's broken form. Blood dripped from his knuckles, pooling at his feet. He exhaled, the sound deep and guttural, before reag down—

  And grabbing Lay by the hair.

  Paied through her scalp as she was yanked upward. A sharp, involuntary scream tore from her throat, her hands scrambling weakly against his wrist. Her limbs felt heavy, useless, her ribs burning with every ragged breath.

  Her mind screamed at her to move, to resist, but her body refused.

  "Ah...This pain… this weakness… I hate it." she tells to herself

  Her vision blurred with tears, her body trembling as Shen Mu lifted her higher. His grip was like iron, unfiving, every movement sending fresh agony through her already broken frame.

  "Sile," he mused, voice ced with cruel amusement. "I expected more from the woman who orchestrated this little ambush. You do look pretty even when covered with your own blood"

  Lay choked back a whimper as she tried to focus, but the agony was blinding. Every breath felt like knives slig through her lungs, her senses drowning uhe overwhelmi of her injuries. I 't think. I 't breathe.

  And then she realized—the battlefield had grown silent. She khat either her pns work with perfe and suffered no loss except her or this was about to be a bloodbath.

  The warriors who had secured their victories were now returning, only to find Meilin dangling helplessly in Shen Mu's grasp.

  They stopped. Stared. Horror settled into their expressions as they felt the shift in the air, a dark presence swallowing their fleeting triumph. The suffog weight of Shen Mu's power spread through the battlefield like a creeping pgue.

  "Meilin…?" One of them whispered, disbelieving. "No… no, this isn't right."

  Bao, bloodied and battered, forced himself to move. His entire body screamed against the effort, but he could not—would not—stay still.

  Lay's blurry vision locked onto him, and for a fleeting moment, her face twisted—not in desperation, but in silent and. We won. Ask them to leave me. The words never passed her lips, but they were there, screaming through the pain in her eyes. She did not want them to fight for her now. Not when they had already given their all. Not when she could already feel the weight of defeat crushing her lungs.

  But Bao didn't listen. He never would. He crawled like a worm towards her.

  Her body spasmed as she tried to move, an unnatural burst of adrenaline f her limbs to respond. She gritted her teeth, g at Shen Mu's wrist, trying to pry herself free. Her vision darke the edges, pain screaming through her bones as she struggled. Move. Move, damn you!

  Shen Mu barely reacted. He exhaled, annoyed, like one swatting away a gnat.

  "Still fighting? Tch." His grip tightened in her hair, sending fresh agony through her skull. He yanked her up higher, her toes now at his stomach level. "You're starting to be an eyesore."

  His other hand pulled back, fingers flexing—preparing to ehe air started to be disoriehe air was heavy. The killing she knew all too well. She was about to die through a gut punch.

  Then, a gust of wind. A blur of motion.

  A fist, heavier than steel, smmed into Shen Mu's ribs.

  The impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield. The earth beh them cracked and birds that stood on branches loss their bance. Dust and debris kicked up around them as Shen Mu's feet skidded against the bloodstaih. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he released Meilin from his grip, shaking his arm as if to rid himself of an irritant. Lay barely registered her sudden freedom—her body flies into the sky like a marioh cut strings.

  Up there, staring at the darkened sky above, a bitter thought crept into her mind. Why am I the first person to die twi a single day?

  She let out a wheezing, broken ugh, the sound barely more than a whisper. Her limbs twitched, trying and failing to move. Not yet. Not like this.

  Before she could spiral further into the abyss of unsciousness, strong arms caught her, cradling her broken frame. Through blurred vision, she looked up and saw her father.

  Lin Wuye's face, always so posed, was twisted in something she had rarely seen—grief. His eyes, rimmed red, darted over her injuries, his breath uneven. "Meilin..." he whispered, voice crag, as though saying her name aloud would make this nightmare more real.

  Tears fell, unnoticed, as his grip oightened. He gently lowers her down to a tree with shaky arms.

  "You will live Meilin, I will make sure of it" he said to her.

  Shen Mu, still rubbing his ribs, let out a low chuckle. "Now, this is iing. The wise Lin Wuye, breaking his vow of pacifism? I should be honored."

  Standing before him was Lin Wuye—Meilin's father.

  His schor's robes were torn, streaked with dirt and blood. His hands trembled, ched into fists. His face, always calm, always posed, was torted with fury, his eyes wet with uears.

  Lin Wuye didn't answer. He had no words left. Only rage.

  And Shen Mu? He weled it with a grin.