LUO FAN
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I breathed in the crisp morning air as I stepped onto the training grounds of the Surging Storm Sect for the first time in weeks. The wind felt sharper than I remembered—cleaner. I had spent the past month in seclusion, repairing the damage wrought by my incomplete ascension. The imbalance between my cores had nearly torn me apart from the inside.
Even now, my body ached with phantom heat, the memory of thunder still lingering in my bones.
But I couldn't stay hidden forever.
As the new master of this long-forgotten sect, I had responsibilities to uphold. My disciples were waiting. And the sect—small and fragile as it was—had begun to stir with life in my absence.
It had been four months since I returned to Guidao Island. Four months since the silence of loss began to be replaced by the voices of children, the clatter of training, and the rhythm of a place finding its purpose again.
The moment I stepped into the open courtyard, the boys noticed.
"Master!" Nan Wucheng shouted, his voice cracking with surprise.
Xiao Leng skidded to a halt mid-sprint, his expression lighting up with pure, unfiltered relief.
Both of them, now sixteen and fourteen, respectively, dropped to one knee without hesitation, bowing deeply before me, their foreheads pressed to the earth.
"You've returned," Nan Wucheng said breathlessly. "We thought… we weren't sure…"
I walked forward and offered a faint smile. "I'm not so easy to kill," I said gently. "You've done well holding the grounds in my absence."
Their eyes brightened.
"Rise and continue your warm-up," I said.
They jumped to their feet, beaming, and resumed their laps with renewed energy — shouting encouragement to one another as if every step was a chance to impress me.
They weren't boys anymore. They were becoming young men.
My gaze drifted across the training field — and that's when I noticed a small shadow, half-hidden behind a stone pillar. It was Mingli.
The boy watched the others with wide, curious eyes. There was envy in them—flickering and faint, but present. Though no longer the emaciated child I had rescued months ago, his journey to recovery remained incomplete. His cheeks had filled out slightly, his skin no longer pallid, but the wariness in his posture—the silent clinging to solitude—had not yet faded.
I hadn't taken him in as a formal disciple. Not yet.
His wounds weren't only physical. That lingering darkness Ruan Yanjun had sensed in him during our travels still hadn't left. He remained guarded, silent, and wary around the other children. There were habits too—stealing food at night and hiding it beneath his bedding, hoarding as if he still feared the next meal might never come.
I sighed softly. It wasn't disobedience. It was survival. The kind born from too many nights without warmth or kindness.
For now, all I asked of him was to heal. To rebuild his foundation.
I wanted him to understand—truly understand—what path he wished to follow before stepping into the world of cultivation.
"Mingli," I called gently.
He flinched. His head shot up, eyes locking on mine with sudden alarm.
But when he realized I was addressing him, his expression bloomed with unmistakable joy. Excitement shimmered across his face like sunlight on still water.
"You may join them," I said with a small nod.
"Thank you, Master!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and gratitude.
Without hesitation, he dashed toward the field, thin legs struggling to keep pace with the others, but the resolve in his steps burned brighter than any technique. Though his stride faltered, he didn't stop. He ran with everything he had.
Watching the three of them stirred something deep within me. A quiet pride. A fragile hope.
The Surging Storm Sect had begun to find its future.
As I stood there in silence, my thoughts drifted to Feng'er.
His memory never strayed far. And in moments like this, it returned with force. The exuberance of these children, their laughter and awkward determination, mirrored him in ways that made my chest tighten. His bright smile, the way he always sought my approval, his need to be seen…
The resemblance was uncanny.
I exhaled slowly and pushed the memory away. This was not the time to remember what was lost.
This was the time to protect what remained.
Wait. One of my disciples was missing.
Where is Lin Qiu?
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the quiet hum of the training ground. I turned to see Bing Hai approaching, his face flushed and breath uneven as he jogged toward me.
"Sect Leader Luo," he called, panting slightly.
It had been two months since I officially assumed the title, but the name still felt foreign. Sect Leader. The words sat uneasily on my shoulders—a mantle I had never sought, and still wasn't sure I deserved.
Before I could ask what he needed, another figure came running across the courtyard.
Lin Qiu.
Ma Huan's twelve-year-old son, now my youngest disciple, sprinted toward us with unbridled excitement on his face. But as his eyes met mine, I narrowed mine in return. He slowed immediately, smile faltering as he stopped in front of me.
"Why are you late?" I asked.
"Because I woke up late, Master," he admitted quickly. "My father forgot to wake me up."
I raised a brow. "I told you before. Waking early is your responsibility, not your father's."
He nodded, chastened.
"Join the others. And after training, go to the library and copy the Disciple's Code of Discipline ten times."
"Yes, Master," he murmured, then hurried off to join the others, posture straighter now, steps a little more purposeful.
I turned back to Bing Hai and softened my tone. "What is it?"
Bing Hai hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to collect his thoughts. "Elder Tao wants to see you. Something about a letter, I think? Or… two letters?" he added, clearly uncertain.
I couldn't help the faint smile tugging at my lips.
At twenty-two, Bing Hai had the frame of a grown man, but the air of someone far younger. Elder Tao had once told me that his development had stalled after witnessing the massacre of his family during a siege. Despite that, his loyalty to the sect was unwavering, and his heart remained untainted.
"Alright," I said, patting his shoulder gently. "Let's go see Elder Tao."
The main hall of the Surging Storm Sect had changed remarkably during my month-long seclusion. The once-faded beams had been sanded and repainted, and the murals that adorned the walls—once dulled by time—now gleamed with restored color and care.
Elder Tao stood waiting at the center of the hall, his hands folded neatly in front of him. His usually calm expression was touched with quiet warmth as I approached.
"Good morning, Sect Leader Luo," he greeted, bowing deeply.
I winced slightly at the formality. "Elder Tao, I've asked you not to call me that. I hold you in higher regard than myself. Just call me Fan."
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Allow me to savor it a little longer. We hadn't have someone to call Sect Leader for a very long time."
"It makes me uncomfortable," I said honestly.
"Very well," he replied with a knowing grin. "That will be the last time."
My gaze swept across the hall. The scent of fresh timber lingered in the air. Where once the structure had sagged with age, now it stood proud again—quietly dignified.
"I see you've been busy," I murmured. "The hall looks incredible. Did you oversee all this yourself?"
Elder Tao's smile widened with pride. "Not entirely. Four gentlemen arrived while you were in seclusion. They volunteered to help restore the hall and even paid for the materials out of their own pockets. On top of that, they donated food and silver to support the sect."
"Four gentlemen?" I echoed, brow furrowing. "Did they say who sent them?"
He shook his head. "They refused. Said only that someone had hired them to ensure the work was done swiftly."
My expression darkened with quiet suspicion.
Ruan Yanjun.
It wouldn't be the first time he offered help from the shadows, never asking for credit, never revealing his hand. Always finding a way to stay close without crossing the line.
Before I could speak further, Elder Tao lifted a pair of sealed envelopes from the table and extended them toward me.
"These arrived yesterday," he said. "Marked urgent. That's why I sent Bing Hai to fetch you."
I took them carefully. The wax seals were unbroken—one marked with a symbol I didn't immediately recognize. I turned it over, studying the insignia pressed into the wax.
"Do you know this seal?" I asked.
"That one belongs to the Light Path Alliance," Elder Tao replied without hesitation.
My eyebrows rose. "The Light Path Alliance? What could they possibly want with us? Haven't they spent years dismissing this sect as a disgrace to the Righteous Path?"
"That's true," Elder Tao said. "But it seems they're beginning to reconsider. They wouldn't have reached out otherwise."
"And this one?" I held up the second letter, sealed in dark wax.
"That's from the Dark Path Coalition," he replied.
I frowned, my fingers hovering at the edge of the seal. "Why are both the Light Path and Dark Path reaching out to us at the same time? This is… unusual."
Elder Tao nodded solemnly, the weight of the moment reflecting in his gaze. "Let's open them and find out."
With a quiet sigh, I broke the black seal and unfurled the parchment carefully. Elder Tao stepped closer, reading over my shoulder.
The letter was brief but carried a tone of unmistakable urgency. It was an invitation, directed specifically to the sect leader of Surging Storm, to attend an emergency summit hosted by the Dark Path Coalition. The meeting was scheduled for two months from now in Liuye, a city southeast of the Wun Empire. The purpose—to discuss the worsening crisis in Wun, provide aid to displaced civilians, and support struggling dark sects amidst war and upheaval.
I furrowed my brow as I finished reading. "Has something significant happened in the Wun Empire recently?"
Elder Tao exhaled deeply. "I haven't left the island since your seclusion began, but the last reports indicated that the Kan Empire's forces were advancing on Wun's capital. I don't know if they've taken it… or how far the conflict has progressed."
I looked down at the parchment, my thoughts turning. "Two months," I murmured. "At best, I'd need a carriage if I hope to make it in time."
Elder Tao said nothing, but his silence was heavy with meaning. We both knew what he wasn't saying. The sect's coffers were thin. Even affording a single horse—let alone a carriage and supplies—would strain us. Ma Huan didn't own a carriage either. He only rented one when delivering elixirs to his customers in nearby provinces.
I set the dark-sealed letter aside and opened the second envelope.
This one, bearing the Light Path Alliance's mark, was no less mysterious. It, too, was an invitation—this time to a summit of the Light Path sects, scheduled a week after the dark sects' meeting. But unlike the first, it gave no agenda. No purpose. Only a location, a time, and a formal summons.
"Surging Storm is neutral in status, isn't it?" I asked, glancing up.
Elder Tao nodded. "Yes. We're unaffiliated. But neutrality doesn't prevent us from participating. If either side claims to act for the common good, we have the right to lend our voice, or simply observe."
I tapped the letters against my palm, thoughtful. "Both letters speak of protecting the people. But it's strange hearing such a sentiment from the Dark Path Coalition. Since when have they ever cared for the common people?"
Elder Tao tilted his head, studying me. I thought of Ruan Yanjun, and the words he once spoke in a rare moment of sincerity: Without the common people, who would sing the praises of the great and powerful?
"Never mind," I muttered, pushing the thought aside and setting the letters down. "I think I should attend both. At the very least, they'll give me a clearer picture of the situation in the Wun Empire. And if we can contribute in any way… perhaps Surging Storm will finally gain the recognition it deserves."
Elder Tao's expression brightened. "That's a sound plan. Do you want me to accompany you?"
I shook my head, offering a faint smile. "No. I'll need you here. Someone has to manage the sect while I'm away. It may take some time before I return."
"And perhaps you might want to seek Abbot Mo, as well," he suggested. "And ask him about the strange status of your cores, about your incomplete ascension."
I paused to think, and then nodded. "You're right. I'll seek his wisdom about the matter. I'm sure he'll be attending the Light Path Congregation, as well."