The forest clearing had fallen into a tense silence.
The earlier clash of fire, fang, and steel had faded into memory, replaced by the quiet hush of leaves rustling in the high canopy above. The once-threatening serpent now lay still, its massive body stretched lifeless across the mossy ground. A breeze stirred, carrying the scent of smoke and blood.
Sunlight filtered gently through the leaves, casting shifting patterns of gold and green across the forest floor. It was a peaceful scene, but the stillness felt earned—fragile and fleeting.
Kai sat on a fallen log, his posture heavy with exhaustion. In his hands was a tattered letter, its edges scorched and speckled with holes where the snake's venom had eaten through. His fingers traced the jagged damage as though trying to mend it by touch alone.
Near him, Fen perched on a low branch. Her feathers were fluffed, and her head tilted curiously as she watched him examine the letter. Her usual bright energy was subdued, as if she too felt the gravity of the moment.
Kai's gaze lingered on the faded ink. The script was familiar, neat despite the damage. His chest tightened as memories stirred—Aina, So Yun, the quiet strength of the Fort beneath the Frost Plum Grove. They felt like relics of another life, one far removed from this wild, dangerous place.
Could he really start over?
He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined it: reaching Core Formation, flying through the skies without the aid of artifacts, returning to face the Shen Clan not as prey, but as a storm.
The dream was beautiful—but distant. The snake's corpse reminded him how thin the line between life and death truly was in this world.
He needed to be stronger. Smarter. Always prepared.
Fen's voice broke the silence, her tone light but curious.
"So, what's in that letter? Anything about me?"
Kai glanced up, then down again at the scorched paper.
"It's from So Yun," he said quietly. "Let's find out."
He carefully unfolded the letter. Some characters were blurred or eaten away, but the core message remained. He read slowly, piecing together meaning between the gaps.
The first lines were an apology. So Yun regretted leaving him alone at the Frost Plum Grove. She had no choice, she said, but she made a vow—to protect Aina, and if possible, Fen as well.
Kai's throat tightened.
Even now, her kindness was like a thread anchoring him to something real. She had believed in him. She had cared. And he had walked away from that safety, from that warmth, into the unknown.
Fen sighed, her voice quiet and almost wistful.
"She's so kind. I really hope the old dragon listens to Lin Shi and just makes peace with the Fort."
Kai looked up from the letter, thinking aloud.
"You know, if Xu Xe was willing to negotiate, they might even let him into the Pure Yin Well. He could see Lin Shi again, like he always wanted."
Fen blinked.
She stared at him, stunned.
"You're... right."
The silence that followed was heavy. It wrapped around them, thick with what-ifs and might-have-beens.
Xu Xe had been bound by so many oaths and resentments that he had never considered diplomacy. Never tried peace. But maybe the three great sects had wanted it that way. Maybe they had structured the rules just carefully enough to ensure a grudge would burn forever—without any restriction on visiting that sacred place.
Kai clenched the letter slightly, then continued reading. Fen edged closer, eyes glued to the parchment.
The next section was more damaged. Apologies again—but this time, So Yun apologized for not providing him with a method for Core Formation. Her handwriting wavered there, as if even she knew how much he would struggle without it.
Such techniques were rare. Highly protected. Even within major sects, they were sealed behind oaths and bloodlines.
So Yun had joined the Fort largely to gain access to those techniques. Her own arsenal of auxiliary skills was all Earth-rank or higher. But the message was clear:
Kai would have to find his own path. Alone.
He lowered the letter slightly.
"Mortal techniques are taboo?" he asked, looking at Fen.
The little phoenix puffed her feathers and scoffed.
"Don't look at me like that. I don't have any loci, remember? I don't need your fancy techniques. I'm naturally strong!"
Kai smiled. The memory came unbidden—So Yun's gentle voice during their late-night discussions.
"Cultivators study techniques to rise," she had said once, swirling her tea. "But spiritual beasts grow stronger just by living. Qi flows through them without effort."
Fen had been nearby that day too, munching on roasted seeds.
"Or eating rare herbs," she had added with a grin.
So Yun had chuckled.
"True. The smarter beasts can even study a core technique. One is enough to push them to new heights. Even without loci, it can rival a cultivator's full arsenal. A phoenix's natural gifts, for example, outshine most Earth-rank techniques."
Kai had leaned forward, curious.
"How many loci do cultivators have?" he had asked.
"Ten is standard for the major sects," So Yun had answered. "The three great sects—twenty, sometimes more. Your potential, Kai, likely exceeds fifty."
He had hidden his reaction well. In truth, his number of loci was... far fewer. A secret he had kept even from her.
Back in the present, Fen flicked her tail, snapping him out of thought.
"Jealous of my natural talent?" she teased.
Kai tilted his head, eyes playful.
"And your grace," he added.
Fen squinted at him but chose not to argue, her gaze returning to the letter.
He scanned the next section. The words were fragmented again, sentences broken apart by venom-burned gaps. It spoke briefly of So Yun's reasons for sending him away. She had done it out of necessity, that much was clear—but what exact danger she feared was lost to the damage.
One line stood out:
"Pursuit is unlikely."
Most tracking formations, she explained, only worked within a single Realm. Cross-Realm formations were expensive, unstable, and not worth using on someone like Kai.
He exhaled, the tension in his chest easing slightly.
He was safe. At least for now. This Celestial Archipelago was beyond the reach of the Shen Clan.
The letter's final paragraph was the most intact.
It was short. Simple. Honest.
"Live happily, Kai. May Heaven bless your Path!"
He folded it with care and stored it in his spatial ring, fingers lingering for a moment.
A keepsake. A blessing. A goodbye.
He stood slowly, stretching his sore limbs.
"Let's try cooking this beast," he said at last, drawing Steel Claw.
Fen's eyes lit up, her wings flapping once in excitement.
"You said it! Finally!"
Kai looked at the corpse. The idea of cooking it here gave him pause. The scent would travel. Heat, smoke, flame—it could all draw attention from miles away.
But his stomach grumbled, and Fen was already circling the snake, looking for a tender part to roast.
Was the risk worth it?
They were far from cities. Far from sects.
And for now... they were alive.