The forest seemed endless, the darkness around him almost suffocating. Twisted roots jutted out of the ground, threatening to trip him with every step, but he pressed on. Every sound—a snapping twig, the rustle of leaves—made his heart jump, his mind conjuring images of pursuers or worse. Yet, he forced himself forward, driven by a singular thought: survival.
As he ran, memories of his life at the sect flashed through his mind. The early days of hopeful ambition, the quiet satisfaction of tending to the spirit beasts, the bitter betrayal of being marked by the Jade King Seal.
His grip tightened on the hilt of the sword at his side. He had no illusions about the challenges that lay ahead. Without cultivation skills or allies, he would be easy prey for demonic cultivators or beasts lurking in the wilderness. But despite the odds, a flicker of determination burned within him. He had been granted a second chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
Kai slowed his pace as the forest thickened, the trees growing closer together. The underbrush became more tangled, forcing him to carefully navigate through the dense vegetation. The sounds of the night surrounded him—chirping insects, the occasional hoot of an owl, the distant howl of some unknown creature.
As he moved deeper into the forest, the weight of his decision began to settle more firmly. He had left behind everything he had ever known, but in doing so, he had freed himself—from the sect, from the seal, from the life that had nearly crushed him. For the first time in years, the future stretched out before him like an uncharted path.
Kai paused for a moment, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. His chest rose and fell as he stared into the darkness ahead. “This is it,” he whispered to himself, the words barely audible over the sounds of the forest. “A new beginning... or the end.”
By abandoning his sect, Kai had sealed his fate as a rogue cultivator. Once, this status might not have been considered a significant threat. Many cultivators in the past pursued their paths independently, honing their skills through trial and error, guided only by their own intuition and resourcefulness. But times had changed. The Righteous Alliance, a coalition of powerful sects, had declared rogue cultivation illegal. Their justification was simple yet damning: rogue cultivation, in their eyes, was a slippery slope toward corruption. Without a proper teacher or sect to offer guidance, they argued, rogue cultivators were more likely to veer toward forbidden techniques, their isolation fostering resentment and greed.
To the alliance, rogue cultivators weren’t merely strays—they were potential threats, a danger to the delicate balance they claimed to uphold. Rogue cultivators were viewed as the seeds from which demonic cultivators inevitably sprouted, and the alliance had resolved to root them out before they could take hold.
Kai knew the weight of this stigma. By leaving the Ember Sword Sect, he had shed the protection of his identity as a sect member. He was no longer part of an institution that could vouch for his character or methods. To the alliance, he was now a potential danger, an untethered cultivator who needed to be monitored—or eliminated.
The implications of his new status gnawed at him as he trudged deeper into the forest. He would have to conceal his abilities, avoid displaying even the smallest hint of his cultivation. To wield qi openly without the backing of a recognized sect would be as good as painting a target on his back. The alliance’s enforcers, disciples tasked with hunting down rogues, would show him no mercy if they discovered his identity.
Kai’s lips pressed into a grim line as the reality of his situation settled over him. Without his sect, he was more vulnerable than ever. It wasn’t just demonic cultivators or wandering spirt beasts he had to fear; even normal cultivators might strike him down under the pretext of preserving the alliance’s order. The world he once knew, with its rigid hierarchy and structured teachings, was now closed to him. He was an outcast, a fugitive by default.
The thought sent a pang of bitterness through his chest. He had sacrificed everything to survive, to give the spirit beasts a chance at freedom, yet this new path came with its own perilous cost. Every village he approached, every road he traveled, would require careful calculation. He couldn’t afford to draw attention, and any slip could mean his end.
“I’ll manage,” he muttered to himself, though the words felt more like a plea than a declaration. The forest around him whispered in response, the rustling leaves and distant calls of nocturnal creatures providing no reassurance.
To maintain his anonymity, Kai decided his next destination would be the small village of Haebaek. He needed to change his clothing—desperately. The robes he wore, emblazoned with the distinctive crimson patterns of the Ember Sword Sect, would give him away immediately. Any cultivator or discerning traveler would recognize the attire, and that was a risk he couldn’t afford. Unfortunately, he had no other clothes to replace them, so stopping at the village became a necessity.
As he hurried through the forest, another thought gnawed at him: the safety of Haebaek’s villagers. The village was not far from the sect’s grounds, close enough that the sounds of battle or signs of destruction might have reached them by now. If the sect had truly been attacked by demonic cultivators, the mortals living in Haebaek would undoubtedly be in danger. Demonic cultivators rarely left anything unscathed in their wake, and a defenseless settlement like Haebaek would be an easy target for their cruelty.
Kai’s jaw tightened at the thought. Though he had left his sect behind, he couldn’t ignore the people of Haebaek. They had always been kind to him. The warm greetings of the villagers and the occasional gifts of food or dried herbs lingered in his memory. He owed it to them to at least warn them of the potential threat. If nothing else, he might convince them to flee into the forest and hide until the danger had passed.
With these dual purposes in mind, Kai pressed on. The path to Haebaek wound through the dense woods, familiar to him after years of visiting the village. His steps were light, careful not to draw attention to himself. Despite the weight of his thoughts, he couldn’t shake the sense that he was being watched. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig set him on edge. Whether it was wild animals, demonic cultivators, or even remnants of the sect’s enforcers, he didn’t know—and he wasn’t keen on finding out.
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As Kai moved through the forest, the dense canopy began to thin, revealing glimpses of the open world beyond. He quickened his pace, believing he was nearing Haebaek. However, as the trees gave way to a clearing, his breath caught in his throat, and the color drained from his face.
Thick plumes of black smoke rose into the sky, accompanied by the flickering, ominous glow of flames. The acrid scent of burning wood and charred flesh hit him before he could take another step. As he emerged fully from the forest, the horrific scene came into view—Haebaek was ablaze. The once-quaint village, with its simple homes and fields, was now a smoldering ruin.
Scattered across the ground were bodies—men, women, and even children—lying face-down in the dirt. Many had swords or spears protruding from their backs, a brutal slaughter that had taken place. Kai staggered, his knees threatening to give out as the weight of what he was seeing crushed him.
“Ming! Yan! And all the others!” he cried out, his voice cracking.
The sight of the lifeless bodies lying about confirmed his worst fears. Haebaek’s kind-hearted villagers, who had always welcomed him, were gone—taken from this world in a senseless, violent act.
Kai’s trembling hands balled into fists as he forced himself to look deeper into the burning wreckage. Amid the flames and destruction, he spotted several black-robed figures moving methodically through the village. Their dark, hooded garments marked them unmistakably as demonic cultivators. They worked with an unsettling calm, dragging corpses by their limbs and piling them into a large, grim-looking cart. The scene was grotesque, as if the villagers were nothing more than livestock being prepared for market.
His stomach churned as he watched the repulsive spectacle, bile rising in his throat. The cultivators showed no regard for the lives they had snuffed out. They laughed and chatted amongst themselves as they tossed bodies onto the heap like sacks of grain. Each lifeless form landed with a sickening thud, the sound cutting through the crackle of flames.
Kai froze, his heart pounding. The black-robed figures hadn’t noticed him yet, their attention focused on their grim task. He ducked behind the trunk of a large tree, using its shadow to conceal himself. His mind raced. What do I do? He couldn’t fight them—there were too many, and his skills were nowhere near their level. He had to think, and quickly.
Kai’s breath hitched as he gripped the handle of his sword tightly, his knuckles whitening. His mind churned with indecision, torn between the urge to act and the realization of his inadequacy. His body trembled, a mixture of fear and fury coursing through him like molten fire. Just as he prepared to step out—or retreat—a sharp whistling sound sliced through the air.
Kai froze, his eyes darting upward. A gleaming blade streaked through the night sky, its sharp edges reflecting the glow of the flames. Riding atop the sword was a cultivator, their robes billowing in the wind. The figure moved with practiced grace, and just as they reached the edge of the village, they leapt from the blade with incredible precision. The flying sword, now freed from its rider, continued its deadly trajectory, a streak of light in the darkness.
The demonic cultivators were caught completely off guard. One of the black-robed figures barely had time to register the incoming attack before the blade pierced through his chest with a sickening crunch. The impact sent the figure staggering backward before collapsing in a lifeless heap, blood pooling beneath the body.
As the sword completed its deadly task, its wielder descended like a falling leaf, landing effortlessly at the village’s entrance. The cultivator wore robes of deep green, embroidered with black patterns resembling a tortoise shell. His movements were precise, exuding an aura of controlled power and discipline. Behind him, six more cultivators landed in formation, each bearing the same emerald-colored robes and weapons at the ready.
Kai’s heart surged with hope and awe. It was the Emerald Tortoise Sect, known for their mastery of defensive and restorative techniques. Their presence was a beacon of salvation in this nightmare.
The first cultivator, clearly the leader, raised his hand with an air of authority. The sword embedded in the demonic cultivator’s corpse responded immediately, wrenching itself free with a spray of blood before flying back into its master’s grasp. The blade twirled briefly in the air before settling into the cultivator’s outstretched hand.
“You demonic scum!” the green-robed leader bellowed, his voice carrying over the crackle of flames. His eyes blazed with righteous fury as he leveled his weapon at the remaining black-robed figures. “You will pay for this atrocity!”
The demonic cultivators, momentarily stunned, snapped to attention. They drew their weapons and began to fan out, their sinister auras growing darker and more oppressive. One of them, a tall figure with crimson streaks across his mask, stepped forward and sneered. “Emerald Tortoise dogs! Meddling in affairs that don’t concern you. Do you really think you can stop us?”
As tension crackled in the air, Kai remained hidden, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. The Emerald Tortoise Sect had brought hope to this dire situation, but Kai knew the battle ahead would not be easy.
Kai’s heart pounded in his chest as more sharp whistling sounds sliced through the air. He instinctively glanced upward, his eyes widening at the sight above. A vast formation of cultivators soared across the night sky, their swords gleaming like shooting stars. Dozens—no, hundreds—of figures were flying in tightly coordinated groups, their robes shimmering with the unmistakable green and black of the Emerald Tortoise Sect. Their destination was clear: the main sect grounds.
The air was heavy with tension as Kai watched the cultivators vanish over the horizon, their movements swift and determined. It seemed the Emerald Tortoise Sect had dispatched a significant force to counter the demonic cultivators' assault. Relief mingled with dread in Kai’s heart. The situation at Haebaek—and likely at the Ember Sword Sect grounds—was now under their control. This was both a blessing and a curse.
It was a blessing because the reinforcements would undoubtedly save whoever remained in Haebaek. The villagers, if there were any survivors, now had a fighting chance. Perhaps the Emerald Tortoise Sect would even restore order and prevent further bloodshed.
But it was also a curse for Kai. He clenched his fists, his breath shallow. He wasn’t just a bystander; he was now a rogue cultivator, a deserter from the Ember Sword Sect. In times of crisis like this, cultivators like him were not tolerated. The Emerald Tortoise Sect wouldn’t hesitate to strike down anyone they deemed suspicious—especially someone like Kai, who had abandoned his post and was fleeing the conflict.
He glanced back at the burning village one last time. The cries of the dying and the clash of weapons still echoed faintly through the trees, but the cultivators of the Emerald Tortoise Sect had yet to notice him. The flickering flames illuminated the chaos, and Kai knew he couldn’t risk staying any longer.
Swallowing hard, he silently turned away, retreating deeper into the forest. His steps were deliberate and careful, his senses alert to every sound around him. The underbrush rustled softly as he moved, the cool night air biting at his skin. He hoped the thick canopy of trees and the darkness of the forest would shield him from both the demonic cultivators and the righteous alliance.
Kai’s thoughts churned as he pressed on, his grip on his sword tightening. He had no allies, no direction, and no plan beyond survival. For now, all he could do was keep moving, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the battle that had engulfed his former life.
