Around He Yu, the air grew charged. The sharp scent of a thunderstorm, pungent and fresh, filled the room. The captain fell to his knees, and his soldiers followed suit. He Yu looked down on them from atop the storm, his eyes flashing with distant sparks of heaven. A breeze tugged at the hem of his simple robes, a promise of the gale he still held back. Although he’d not completely released his spirit, or any of his killing intent, even the blind would see he was far beyond these soldiers.

  “Forgive this one! Have mercy, Lord Immortal!” the captain cried into the floor.

  “Go,” He Yu said. “Hope that I never see you again. And hope that I never hear of you extorting innocent travelers.”

  The soldiers all fled from the inn, and moments later the sound of horses fading into the distance floated in from outside. He Yu pulled his spirit back and returned to his meal. He caught a look from Chen Fei as he sat back down.

  “I was worried there’d be a fight for a moment,” she said.

  He Yu could think of more than a few people who would have done far worse than simply frighten off a few low-realm bullies. Ren Huang, for example, likely would have beaten them all within an inch of their lives. He didn’t want to think about what someone like Yi Xiurong would have done, with the stark, purifying light of her Dao of Radiance. A Dao that imposed justice and order upon the world.

  Finishing his meal, He Yu rose and looked for the innkeeper. “Uncle!” he called. “You can come out now. The soldiers are gone.”

  “Good riddance,” the older man spat, emerging from wherever he’d gotten off to once violence threatened his establishment. Then he seemed to remember that He Yu was actually a powerful expert, and bowed over a clasped fist. “Forgiveness, Lord Immortal. This one meant no disrespect.”

  He Yu waved him off. He was going to have to make sure he kept himself hidden in the future. All this “Lord Immortal” nonsense was too much, and he’d much rather if people talked to him normally. “Tell me, Uncle, is this something that happens often? Soldiers acting like bandits?” There’d been something about the man’s clear disgust when he’d returned to the room. He Yu hoped his intuition was wrong.

  “They’re not the worst, at least. That lot really only bothers travelers,” the innkeeper said. “But yes, officials collect taxes they aren’t owed. Soldiers accost people on the roads, demanding tolls or protection money, and the governor of the province does nothing to stop them. Some say he’s in on it, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

  The territory they were in had once been administered by the Shrouded Peaks Sect. It made sense that someone would have to be placed over it. He Yu assumed the innkeeper didn’t know exactly who that might be, since he’d not said it, so he didn’t bother asking. Whoever administered these lands must have been appointed by Jin Xifeng—or one of her ministers. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to think that whoever governed the province shared her covetous nature. At the very least, it would explain the captain’s actions well enough.

  “Will those soldiers return and cause trouble for you?” he asked.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Worst they’ll do is blame me if they come back and find you still here,” he said. Then, he quickly added, “Not that it matters. You wouldn’t be to blame, of course.”

  He Yu wasn’t about to risk causing the innkeeper any more trouble than he already had. He paid for his and Chen Fei’s meal, and they both took their leave. Back on the road and well after dark, they traveled as mortals. At least as much as two lone individuals could, walking the roads after dark. Nobody they met would be fooled, but at least they weren’t announcing their passing to anyone with qi sense.

  For some time they walked, He Yu remaining in pensive silence. Eventually, Chen Fei nudged him.

  “Everything alright?” she asked.

  “No,” he admitted. “I’d hoped those soldiers were just a bad bunch. That maybe they’d gone without notice. It seems things aren’t as orderly as they were before we fled the empire.”

  “Maybe it’s just the local official?” she suggested. Given her tone, she didn’t really believe it, either.

  The innkeeper had told them the governor did nothing. Whoever he was, he was at least ambivalent. Not a good sign, as far as He Yu was concerned. Shulin was on the edge of the area formerly administered by the Shrouded Peaks Sect. Would his hometown be under the jurisdiction of this new governor? Maybe it had been added to the nearby county, administered by a comital clan he couldn’t remember the name of. Hard to say. At the very least, Shulin should be far enough out of the way that trouble wouldn’t follow.

  As they traveled, they stopped at inns, villages, and towns as they ran across them. Whenever they stopped, they made inquiries as discreetly as they could. The picture that emerged was one that did little to ease He Yu’s worries.

  If anything, their encounter with the soldiers was atypical in the sense that it was fairly mild. Mostly due to He Yu’s advancement, and his willingness to reveal himself long before things got out of hand. When he and Chen Fei asked their questions, they were answered with stories of excess and violence. Groups of soldiers were quick to beat anyone who they thought defied them. Not surprising, given the captain’s reaction to He Yu admonishing his behavior.

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  Even the magistrates of small towns would have a group of cultivator guards that followed them around, enforcing their demands as they squeezed the population ever tighter. From the newest recruit, through the local officials, all the way up to the province governor, it seemed corruption and avarice ruled the day. The more He Yu heard, the more his disquiet at the whole thing grew. One night, as they drew close to Shulin and the southern forest, he stared into their fire in silence, with Chen Fei looking on. She made no secret of her concern.

  “Is the whole empire like this?” she asked.

  With the silence finally broken, He Yu allowed himself to release a bit of the tension in his shoulders. “Surely not,” he said. He didn’t know if he truly believed it, or if he was simply trying to reassure himself. He kept talking. “There’s no way the empire could hold together if this level of corruption was so widespread. The ducal clans wouldn’t have it. They may not challenge Jin Xifeng directly, but they’d do something, right?”

  “Maybe she destroyed anyone who might challenge her? Or bought them off? You saw what she could do. The treasures she had. Who knows what else she’s capable of?”

  He Yu cursed himself. She was right—Jin Xifeng would have tremendous wealth at her disposal. Even after a thousand years of imprisonment, she would have a store of treasure to call her own. With the wealth of the empire at her feet? She could buy off anyone she wanted. While He Yu couldn’t say what level most of the other noble clans were at, even the legendary Tan Zihao of the Jade Kingdom was at the early Eighth Realm.

  Jin Xifeng had fought two experts as ancient as she was immediately after breaking free, and she’d won. Both of them had been at the same stage as her, too. And the most terrifying part? She’d won easily.

  Although the battle itself had been too much for him to bear, and he’d only caught glimpses of its totality, He Yu was certain it had been fairly one-sided. Zhou Shanyuan hadn’t stood a chance. As soon as Jin Xifeng got a hold of him, she’d torn off his arm, and then killed him. She’d cast aside the leader of the Shrouded Peaks Sect like he was nothing. Elder Cai had seemed to fare a little better, but he’d lost, too. The alabaster pillar of his presence had crumbled, and he’d fallen from the sky just the same.

  No, Jin Xifeng was beyond what the empire could bring against her. The rumors said she’d killed even the Ninth Realm Dragon Emperor—although that was disputed. Whatever the truth, she was peerless now. If she weren’t, someone would have challenged her.

  Considering it all, He Yu grew ever more despondent about the path he’d set himself to.

  Was it pointless? Was he an idiot? Chasing after a monster like Jin Xifeng seemed little more than rushing headlong into certain death. She had over a thousand years and three entire stages of a head start on him. She drew upon the cultivation of her followers to empower herself. He’d seen firsthand how easily she could sway people to her. How simple it was for someone to give themselves over to her influence.

  How many thousands of cultivators could she draw upon, now that she had crowned herself empress?

  Chen Fei moved closer to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. He hadn’t realized that he’d been cradling his head in his hands. He must look wretched, like he’d given up on some grand adventure before they’d even begun. Leaning into her, he took whatever comfort he could.

  “We could always head south,” she said after a while.

  “And live in the forest?”

  “No,” she said. “Beyond. There’s got to be something there.”

  “Does there?” he asked. He wasn’t so sure.

  “The world is far bigger than the empire. Beyond the mountains where I live is the great steppe. The nomads travel far past the horizon, I’m told. The Jade Kingdom lies outside the empire, as well. If you travel to the eastern sea, you can follow the coast north, and find another of the empire’s tributary kingdoms.”

  She was right. There was no reason to think the empire encompassed the whole of the world. They could travel beyond the southern forest, and they could find a place outside the empire. Make a life for themselves away from all of it.

  But that felt like giving up.

  A memory bubbled up from the depths of his spirit. The memory of holding the shard of a broken weapon, facing down the single most powerful cultivator of his generation.

  “A hero doesn’t give up,” he said softly.

  Chen Fei looked up from where she leaned against him. “Then we keep going.”

  “We keep going,” he said.

  The satisfaction he felt deep within his spirit was a pulse of something both of himself and not. His Wayborn Seed. Briefly, he once more glimpsed something greater, something beyond even that. He’d come too far. Turning back now wasn’t simply something that would damage his cultivation because of its sheer incomparability with his Way—it was something He Yu himself was physically and spiritually incapable of. The person he had shaped himself into, the Way he’d carved for himself through his actions, and his the personal Dao he’d only just begun to comprehend—they were all things he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from.

  Not so long as someone like Jin Xifeng walked the earth.

  Over the next several days, He Yu and Chen Fei pushed ever more south. The flat fertile plains gave way to light woods that grew ever more dense the further they went. The further they went, the more diffuse the qi grew. He Yu was glad for their choice to pose as lower-level cultivators. Any qi they spent here would take a long time to replenish without tapping into their limited supply of restorative medicines.

  When they finally arrived at the familiar path that led to Shulin from the main road, it was getting late. They arrived at the village itself shortly after nightfall. Dong Wei’s school was still the largest building in the town. He Yu paid it little mind as he crossed to the far edge with Chen Fei. They had a different destination.

  The forge was dark, its fires banked for the night when they arrived. Light spilled out from He Yu’s old home, though, and with each step they took, his apprehension and homesickness grew. The weight of the years not seeing his father broke over him all at once. It had been far too long.

  He Gang answered the knock. At first, his expression was a concerned frown, but then recognition broke over his face.

  “Yu’er,” he said, voice hushed.

  “Apologies, father,” He Yu said. “I should have returned sooner.”

  He Gang peered out into the darkness beyond He Yu and Chen Fei. “Get inside,” he snapped. “You can’t be seen here.”

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