Months passed quietly.
Amon had refused the quest to retrieve the Spirit Core Bloom, even when it came again.
He chose not to follow the same path.
Airi made the same decision after days of thought. She said nothing, but stayed close to him.
Today was the day Kana and Zai Ren were supposed to return.
Then, they saw Zai.
He came into the Sect courtyard, walking with uneven steps, blood across his robes.
He was carrying Kana in his arms. Her body hung limp, her face was pale, and she wasn't breathing.
Airi stepped forward first. "Zai… what… what happened?!"
Zai Ren didn't answer at first.
He knelt down, placed Kana carefully on the ground, and only then did Amon notice—the Spirit Core Bloom was clutched in his hand.
"She… she didn't make it," Zai whispered.
Airi shook her head slowly. "No. She was supposed to be careful. She was—"
"I told her to run." Zai's voice cracked. "We got surrounded, and a cult… people who wanted the Bloom appeared. I tried everything."
Amon walked closer, staring down at Kana's motionless form.
She was covered in slashes, her robes burned, and her pulse… was gone.
The courtyard fell into silence.
"She was so fucking stubborn," Zai muttered. "She wanted to distract them. She told me to take the Bloom and go. I—"
He collapsed beside her and gritted his teeth. "Why did I listen?"
No one had an answer.
---
Days passed.
The Sect wrapped her body in white silk and buried her under the Eastern Lotus Tree. Amon stood in the back.
Zai was at the front, silent through most of the rites. When it was over, he stayed alone by the grave. Amon didn't disturb him.
Zai was the only one who survived. It made sense—he was the strongest among them, already at Bound Meridian Realm, Tier 3.
His control over spiritual mana was precise, powerful, and aggressive. He had always been built for direct confrontation.
The Sect Elders recognized this.
After the mourning period ended, they quietly promoted Zai to Outer Disciple, handing him the blue robe that signified his new rank. He didn't smile.
---
Amon didn't return to the training halls.
Instead, he decided to explore the Blue Petal Region, wandering far from the Sect's walls.
He needed to see more—understand what kind of world they were living in.
He crossed rivers and bamboo forests and entered towns that looked nothing like the rigid structure of the Sect.
In some, he found Buddhist temples where monks sat in meditation, speaking in riddles and philosophies about spiritual harmony and reincarnation.
They spoke of the Cycle of Return, and how death was never an end.
He found small shrines run by lone ascetic cultivators, claiming they rejected the Path of Power for the Path of Purity.
Their cultivation was strange, focused on self-denial, using spiritual mana not to fight but to erase worldly attachment.
In one town, he met followers of an old religion—The Breathless Flame, who believed enlightenment could only be achieved through the burning of desire, both literal and symbolic.
They branded themselves, lived in pain, and said true cultivation was found through suffering without resisting.
Each village, each temple, each monk he met added more pieces to the puzzle.
Amon listened to them all, and waited.
He knew the man from the Hollow Sky Continent would appear again.
---
Months had passed since Amon left the Sect.
The disciples had mostly returned to their routines, the pain of Kana's death buried under duty and discipline.
The Blue Petal winds moved gently that morning.
Then, the gates creaked.
A figure walked in—quiet, steady, and wrapped in a long, worn robe.
At his side was a sheathed katana. His hair was longer now, tied in a simple knot, and his steps carried the weight of someone who had seen too much.
As he passed under the arch, he removed his hood.
"Amon!" Airi's voice cracked in disbelief.
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly.
"I missed you!" she said. "You didn't send a single letter..."
"I didn't know what to say," Amon replied, patting her head. "I'm back now."
Other disciples looked over curiously, whispering among themselves. The robes he wore weren't from the Sect. They looked foreign—stained from travel and battle. But they said nothing. They knew who he was.
Kazou approached with a calm but stern expression. "Amon. Where have you been?"
Amon nodded respectfully. "Everywhere. I went east first, visited the old temples and independent sects. I learned from hermits, watched rogue samurais duel for nothing but pride. I studied formations in fallen ruins and spoke with monks who cultivate without ever raising a sword."
Kazou listened, arms crossed. "And what did you find?"
"That the world's bigger than I thought," Amon said.
Kazou gave a slight nod. "Then you've learned something worth more than strength."
---
Later that evening, Amon sat under the large tree on the hill just outside the Sect walls.
The same tree that overlooked the valley.
Airi sat beside him, legs stretched, her sleeves rolled to the elbows.
"It's quiet here," Amon muttered.
"It always is," Airi replied. "I waited here some nights… hoping you'd show up."
Amon didn't answer. He looked up at the sky.
"What about Zai?" he asked finally. "Where is he now?"
Airi gave a small smile. "He's been sweeping through the Blue Petal region. Fighting bandits, mercenaries, and rogue cultivators. People started calling him The Pale Monk of Mercy."
Amon raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like him."
"It fits," Airi said. "They say he never kills no matter who he fights. He always disables or defeats without finishing the blow. That's why they call him that—because even with all his strength, he shows mercy."
"I see…"
Amon leaned back and closed his eyes.
The wind moved again.
"I wonder," Amon said quietly. "How long before we're all dragged into something much bigger."
Airi didn't answer. But the silence between them was calm.
They entered the Sect as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Kazou walked beside Amon, his hands behind his back. "Zai Ren's been progressing quickly. Faster than I expected."
"Yeah," Amon replied. "Airi told me that."
Kazou nodded. "He used the Spirit Core Bloom after the mission. It pushed him past two bottlenecks. He's Tier 5 now, still within the Bound Meridian Realm, but close to touching the next threshold."
Amon frowned slightly. That's fast. For someone who had only cultivated for about a year, even with talent, that level of advancement wasn't natural.
Before he could respond, he heard footsteps behind him.
They were firm, steady, and unhurried.
Amon turned.
Zai Ren stood at the edge of the courtyard, his posture straighter, his aura calmer.
His clothes were simpler now—no flashy embroidery, no bright colors. His blade was slung over his back, but his hands were relaxed.
"Yo…" Zai's voice was lower.
Amon tilted his head. "You sound different. You used to crack a joke the moment you opened your mouth."
Zai gave a small smile. "I still do, sometimes. But I guess... the atmosphere's been good lately, so there's no real need for one."
Amon folded his arms. "You've changed."
Zai nodded. "I had to. After Kana died, I realized something. I always fought to show off, to be flashy, to win. But I didn't fight for anyone."
He stepped closer.
"So I decided I wanted to grow stronger… but not for fame. I want to help people. I want to walk the path alone, travel across the country, and do something real. Just… kindness, even if no one remembers it."
Amon stared at him for a moment, then let out a quiet breath.
"I see… I'm glad you're happy, Zai. Really."
Zai looked surprised for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Thanks."
---
Later that night, the dorms were quiet.
Amon lay in bed, his arm draped around Airi.
She had already fallen asleep, breathing slow and steady.
He stared at the wooden ceiling above.
I still don't have enough answers.
But for now… just for tonight… he let his eyes close.
There was still time.
---
Months had passed.
Tonight was supposed to be the night—the night that man would appear and reduce the Sect to rubble. Amon had waited on the same hill.
But hours passed.
Night fell.
Still, nothing.
Then, a sudden gust of wind slammed against him. His hair whipped across his face, and something smacked into his cheek. He caught it midair.
A folded piece of parchment—no, a newspaper.
"What...?" he whispered, his pulse spiking. "A newspaper?"
He looked around.
He opened the paper.
The ink was fresh and the paper was warm.
This was new.
It wasn't from this region—it bore the emblem of the Highland Courts of the Northern Continent.
He read the headline.
"GUINEVERE ELOWEN EXECUTED BY LORD LUCIANO HIGHMOOR."
His eyes widened.
His heart dropped.
He bent over and vomited on the grass, bile burning his throat. His body trembled, and before he could even process it, he heard footsteps rushing toward him from the path below.
"Amon!" Airi's voice rang out.
She was panting when she reached him. "What's wrong? What happened?!"
He didn't answer. He just clutched the newspaper like it had stabbed him.
They brought him back to the dorm, and he sat on the floor with the paper spread out in front of him.
He read it again.
It wasn't a mistake.
Guinevere was dead.
Airi knelt beside him. "Tell me what's going on."
"It's nothing," he muttered.
"Amon, you're shaking," she said, frowning. "Please, tell me. You don't have to—"
She reached for the lantern on the table and set it beside him to give more light. But her hand slipped on the edge of the wood.
The lantern tipped.
Glass shattered.
The oil caught fire instantly, and the flame rolled across the floor like a wave.
"Wait—!"
The fire licked up the bedding and reached her first. Airi screamed as it caught her sleeves.
"Airi!!" Amon moved to shield her, but the fire already clung to him too. It burned through cloth, through skin.
"ARGHH!"
"Amon, I'm sorry! I didn't mean—!"
But before he could drag her away, before he could stop it, the fire burst higher and swallowed her whole.
"No—NO!!"
He screamed, and screamed, clutching her as if that alone would reverse it.
Then, something touched him.
He blinked.
She was whole again.
"I HATE THIS!!"
"ARGHHH!"
Then it hit.
The tremor.
The same trembling in the earth he had felt before the laser came.
He grabbed her arm— "RUN! JUST RUN! DON'T LOOK BACK! PLEASE, D... Don't die..."
But they didn't even get to the door.
Because in the next instant, the entire room vanished.
And so did they.