Just Call Me Andy.

  Li Jang walked with Andrew, who, despite his youth, kept her engaged and, more than once, made her smile at his words or actions.

  “Young man, why…how did the four of you not get recruited or snatched?” Jang asked, grinning.

  “Excellency is welcome to just call me Andrew or Andy… as for your question, it comes down to luck and location. The closest we got was my brother in a sexual relationship with an Envoy who liked young men, but that fizzled out when their Sect fell into ruin.” Andy laughed.

  Jang nearly choked on his words. “ I am sure you had nothing to do with that…” she teased.

  “Fate moves in mysterious ways.” He offered while looking away.

  Jang smiled, then tensed. “I am sorry for your loss. Your brother is famous now because of what happened at Hearthgate.” She said softly.

  Andy smiled. “Aunty Jing, I am sure SHE would appreciate your kind words.” He said with a wink and nothing more.

  Jang's breath caught, then she licked her lips as she decided she needed to hear that story.

  She showed him into her residence.

  When the door was locked and the arrays sealed, Jang expected one thing; she got another.

  Andrew rubbed his hands together and smiled.

  “You just want maintenance, or do you want to purge all the pill waste and start fresh?” he asked, turning to a painting and admiring it.

  “What happens with Ning?” Jang asked.

  Andy turned back. “Rong is going through complete rejuvenation. Uncle Ning is getting up in years, so she is pumping his Soul Sea full of highly refined Qi, which is what turns back the clock.

  The lock clicked, the arrays sealed, and Jang let herself breathe out for the first time since leaving the hall.

  She had expected ritual.

  Preparation.

  Caution.

  Instead, Andrew rubbed his hands together like a craftsman about to get to work.

  Maintenance.

  The word landed wrong—too casual, too practiced.

  Her instincts flared, not in alarm but in recalibration. This wasn’t a healer asking permission. This was a technician offering options. Not only can he help her, but how much did she want done?

  Pill waste. Start fresh.

  Her cultivation was destabilizing. She’d felt it for days, the faint grit in her Qi cycles, the way recovery no longer quite closed the loop. She’d told herself it was stress. It hadn’t been.

  When she asked about Ning, it wasn’t politeness. It was a test.

  Andrew’s answer stripped the breath from her chest.

  Pumping the Soul Sea full of refined Qi.

  Turning back the clock.

  Not metaphor. Not cultivation poetry. Procedure.

  Jang’s spine went cold—not with fear, but with the sudden, crystalline awareness that she was standing inside a system that did not treat Nascent Souls as sacred, fragile peaks… but as maintainable assets.

  This wasn’t sect medicine.

  This wasn’t imperial alchemy.

  This was infrastructure.

  And for the first time since Golden Claw cut her loose, the weight in her chest shifted—not lighter, not gone—but held.

  Carefully.

  Competently.

  She realized, distantly, that if she said yes—really yes—there would be no returning to how things had been before.

  And she didn’t hesitate.

  Her hand touched Andy’s. “I can pay.”

  Andy smirked. “You're our family now, that's payment. Please don’t be silly. Besides, you will find that, unlike you, we can recover in hours what takes you guys pills and days of effort.”

  Andrew drew her to her own couch and sat with her. “We have learned that we need to go very slowly, but for you it will feel fast.” He explained.

  “Why?” she asked, needing to know.

  Andy smiled, “May I begin, then you will know why.” He chuckled.

  Jang nodded, and Andrew sat at her feet with his hand holding hers.

  Then a warmth flowed between them, and she melted into the couch.

  It was as if she were made of chocolate, and the sun, in all its grace, was warming her until she melted over the cushions, becoming one with the furniture.

  When it faded, she realized he still held her hands.

  “We will need to go to the bathing facility, you will discharge waste, it's normal as the Qi loosens the meridians, softening them, and in turn all the pill residue that builds up in the soul and body are vacated… sometimes violently.”

  Andy held her until she stood in a wooden tub.

  “I will let go and leave you just strip and let it all out, and if you need me, just give a call. I am not good at this as Sol, but I know how to fill a bucket with clean water.” He laughed and stepped away as promised.

  Jang felt as if the circulation through her meridians was slowing, and at the same time, it seemed as if there was a heavy weight being released, as if the speed and motion had kept it in check, but now it was finally going to break free.

  Jang moved like a soldier and stripped.

  Then her meridians moved first, as filth seemed to fill her Aura, a heavy residue simply appearing and running down her skin; its smell so foul she gagged.

  The more she cycled, the more she pumped out of her body. She felt torn and disgusted; she wanted to end it, but speeding it up only made the smell and sensation worse.

  Her body began weeping a rusty-colored residue from her pores, and she couldn’t hold back as she violently vomited.

  She realized it was the smell of food pills, not days or weeks worth, but over a century of highly refined pills meant to feed her.

  She screamed for Andy when her skin became covered in a slimy sheen of white waste.

  Andy said nothing; he simply filled buckets with water, warmed them with Qi, then poured them over her head as she scrubbed, as if her life depended on it.

  “Before Solomon got turned into Jianrong, she helped a pleasure pavilion matron with her cultivation from Foundation to Core, he said the waste was literally squirting out of her,” Andy said with a chuckle.

  Jang froze, then laughed hard as she imagined it, and finally had questions she could ask.

  “So your sister is actually Solomon?” she asked, shocked.

  Andy nodded. “Obviously don’t mention it, but uh, yeah, he u got” Andy cleared his throat. “Breasts, so he needed to hide it.”

  Jang turned mouth open, wanting more.

  Andy shook his head. “It is one of those things where it's best not to ask…you know those stories where powerful figures pop out, wave their hands, and miracles or cataclysms happen?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “It's that.” He chuckled as he got her a towel and used Qi to dry her hair.

  “You waste a lot of Qi,” she observed.

  “I will recover all this by morning,” Andy stated

  Tianrelion General Li Jang was resting on her couch, sipping a relaxing tea as her feet were rubbed.

  “How is it?” Andy asked, referring to her swollen ankles.

  “It seems to have passed,” Jang admitted.

  Andrew did not stop rubbing.

  Jang watched him.

  “I was thinking.” She said offhandedly.

  Andy looked up and listened.

  Jang saw she had his entire attention and smiled, which made him smile at her.

  “I think you should be my disciple,” Jang stated.

  Andrew paused his rubbing. “What do disciples do, though?” he said, not really sure.

  Jang paused and thought about that question. Because it was in a different context than she was used to, in Golden Claw, a disciple was a resource to be used for labor and prestige, but here she would not use him for labor, and prestige had no value.

  “Well, I would teach you, and you in turn would help me.” She admitted.

  Andy laughed. “I would help you anyway, though.”

  Jang’s lips pursed as she tried not to smile.

  “Are you refusing?” she asked.

  Andrew shook his head and smiled. “I would love to learn, and someone like you with experience and knowledge, REAL knowledge, would be an amazing teacher.” He admitted.

  Jang felt a strange sense of pride from his words.

  “Would you mind staying and helping me feel better?” She asked, curious.

  Andrew shook his head.

  “I have some stiffness here.” She pointed.

  Andy nodded.

  “And here.” She pointed at another place.

  Andrew nodded again. “No problem.”

  Jang smiled, drank her tea, and kept watching as he moved to her calves.

  When morning came, she woke to Andrew bringing her food and resting on the bed beside her while talking.

  She had no similar experience to draw on.

  Andrew wanted nothing from her but that she be well and happy.

  “I want you to take me around in your craft,” Jang said while putting butter on the bread like circles he had made her.

  “Of course, but also try those with that little jar of brown syrup, you may like it,” Andrew advised.

  He had been right, the fluffy bread circles had been tasty with fruit and syrup.

  By the time they were walking, she felt like a piece of rope, loose but strong.

  The looks she had received the day before turned into downward eyes and bows, with the title ‘general’ spoken with reverence and fear.

  Only Andrey did not treat her differently.

  “Will my hair be as glossy as Sulara’s?” Jang asked.

  “Do you want glossy hair?” Andy asked with a smile.

  Jang had done it before she realized it. Her mouth pouted. “Yes.” Her eyes moved to Andry to see what face he would give, but he only smiled and nodded.

  “We have a system, it's very popular in the village, I will show you.” He replied.

  Jang pressed. “I want to be beautiful.”

  Andy glanced at her, confused. “You ARE beautiful.” He admitted.

  “I,” she held her words as people passed by. “I want to feel beautiful.” She whispered.

  “Ah, got it.” He grinned.

  Andy took a bag from his room that held dried food, a blanket, and bottles of water and wine, while Jang finally met Jianrong and her mother, who was briefing him.

  With a movement of the hand, Jang did not understand. Rong closed her eyes, nodded, then smiled.

  “Aunty Jang, welcome to our family. Please let me introduce our mothers to you; they already admire you from the way Shepard talked about you.

  Jang walked with the fragrant woman, looking her over, trying to see the man who had to change, but not seeing him.

  “Were you truly male before?” Jang finally asked, stopping their movement.

  Rong turned, then opened her mouth and pointed where one mark had been, now two resided.

  “You can smell me; that is part of the reason I was changed. We four siblings are seven affinities.” Rong explained

  Jang gasped, feeling she knew this but never registered what that meant.

  “So…your patrons they” she cleared her throat.

  Rong smiled, took her hand, and started walking again. “Yes…but not just them.”

  Jang licked her lip in thought of what it all meant. “Aunty, when you're ready to tackle the next phase of your cultivation, we will help. My gift is a bit awkward as it requires…proximity.” Rong stated.

  “Don’t they get jealous?” Jang asked, thinking not just of creatures that could mark a soul but also the people around her, like Sulara.

  “Since our circle is small, we can meet everyone's needs,” Rong stated.

  Jang stopped her once more. “What about between siblings?”

  Rong made a popping sound with her mouth and realized she would learn sooner rather than later.

  “We share memories…so I know you had pancakes for breakfast and Andy found his time with you delightful.”

  Jang felt startled, “I don’t, I would prefer my time with him to be private.” She said tightly.

  Rong nodded. “This is our difficulty. It's not that we share memories for fun… although we can and do… but when we are around one another, our memories take in the others as if, within us, there were a great, vast library. Most of the time, none of those memories are revisited. Andy and the others are not watching me be intimate with my lovers. But we CAN if we choose to, I promise no one is filing through your time with my brother. In the same way, if we share memories, we don’t do it maliciously and without the consent of our partners.”

  Jang processed that information.

  “If you share memories…does this mean you share feelings?” Jang asked, stunned.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “You have reached the crux of our gift and problem. The answer is a confusing and difficult yes.” Rong said.

  Jang pulled Rong closer, locking eyes with her. “You felt what he felt,”

  “Er, well, yes, I feel it now,” Rong admitted.

  Jang felt her face flush, then, without thinking, she pressed her head to Rongs…and just like Andy had.

  Rong sighed, content.

  Jang's voice was low, so I would not gain one disciple, but I would gain four.

  The general said, pulling back and seeing, for a moment, Rong's sad eyes; she had moved away.

  Jang found her hand, warm and welcoming. “This is hard on you four.” Jang saw it immediately.

  Rong nodded.

  “When one falls in love, all fall in love.” She murmured.

  Jang felt her heart tense and realized that when Dar and Andy offered to kill someone, it was because they loved Sulara. After all, Rong loves Sulara.

  “This is a lot to digest,” Jang admitted.

  Rong laughed, wiping her face, and smiled. “We live it, and it's a lot to digest, so we understand. Just know, we don’t expect anything, and your privacy is important to us.”

  Jang felt warmth bloom in her chest. “Let's meet your mothers.”

  Rong nodded, then noticed the look on her face and paused.

  Jang glanced at her and smiled. “I am tired of fighting life alone.”

  Jang was brought to Nadia and Gaila, who were both glowing. Shepard ran to her, then stopped trying to figure out what the right thing to do was, and finally smiled and saluted.

  Then the men and Jianrong were shooed away so the council could speak freely.

  In the courtyard, Andy and Rong organized gear for Jang’s expedition.

  “How did it go?” Andy asked.

  “As well as can be when you tell a woman you see her private self,” Rong admitted.

  “She has been alone for a long time.” Andy pointed out.

  “Why are you telling me? I already know how you feel. I feel the same way.” Rong snipped at him.

  “Oh…yeah,” Andy murmured.

  There was a prolonged silence. “What do you think about what Sulara and Jang said?”

  Rong leaned back after closing the bag.

  “Our history isn’t much different. You might have read about it. During the 5th century, Roman Foederati had thought that it would be a great idea to place the Goths on its borders as cheap expendable defenders.” Rong pointed out, then chuckled. “After they learned their ways, they invaded and killed the people who put them there. Irony abounds.”

  Andy closed his eyes in thought. “Master talked about the Qing imperial reformers, who had created an army to defeat more modern armies that were threatening the borders. “By the time I was living there, they were already collapsing; by the time I left for the Second World War, the carving had begun. The people tasked with ensuring continuity ended up being the arbiters of change.” Andy thought aloud.

  Rong looked at him. Andy had been old, not ancient, but old enough not be a soldier. But still, he had gone.

  Rong nodded. “The only thing we can be thankful for is that travel is painfully slow here.”

  “You think we will see the rise of a Genghis Khan type?” Andrew asked.

  Jianrong thought about that old claim from Solomon’s world—that his armies had killed so many people, the world itself cooled afterward. Solomon had never known whether it was true, but if it had aired on the History Channel, there would probably have been a citation.

  And China had tried to build a wall across an entire continent to keep him out.

  That was pretty fucking compelling.

  Their eyes met. Rong gave a slow whistle.

  “That would be a problem.”

  Rong grinned.

  “Tell me you know how to use an English longbow.”

  “Fuck off, what am I, a history book?” Andy laughed

  Jianrong left and came back. She handed Andrew a bone totem.

  Andy took it greedily. “Old man, you never rest.” The young man joked.

  “No rest for the wicked, buddy,” Rong said softly.

  Andy paused and looked at her. Then stood up and pulled her into a tight hug.

  “I love you, even if you get changed, even if we kill, we do what needs to get done so our people are safe,” Andy whispered to her.

  Rong nodded then backed up, their hands clasped tightly as they held each other’s shoulders.

  Both siblings wiped their faces.

  Andy cleared his throat. “Walk me through it, sis.”

  Rong chuckled, then sighed. “Yes, brother.”

  Andy said excitedly as his Spirit Sense pressed into it.

  “Streamlined Albatross, body is narrowed to be less bird, more craft.” Rong smiled. “I redesigned the cockpit; it sits five.”

  Andy blinked.

  “Two-seat alcoves, just a reclined seating position, then an open area like the Swan for gear or people to sit or lie down,” Rong explained.

  “Idea?” He asked, feeling every curve and change.

  “Threefold. Comfort for long distances. Switching controllers. And… Qi batteries.”

  Andy nodded slowly.

  “You added an intake port like the Kunai.” He noticed.

  Rong nodded. “Should be much more efficient for long high altitude.”

  Andy looked up and smiled.

  “No,” Rong said.

  “HEHEHEHEHE,” Andy chuckled wickedly.

  Rong closed her eyes. “I am not flying you around so you can have sex in the sky.” She stated firmly.

  Andrew licked his teeth, then smirked.

  “Gods…you’re the worst,” Rong complained.

  “I just want to give them what they want.” He laughed.

  Rong rolled her eyes.

  “Oh yeah,” Andy remembered something.

  “Oh, here we go,” Rong murmured.

  “So…how is that gonna work now that your uh… my sister?” Andy smiled sweetly.

  Rong stared at him. “I am over here having an existential crisis over my gender change, and you want to know how my sex life will be now…I will, I swear to God, stab you.” Rong warned him.

  Later, she watched as the two stood together, then Andrews' air armor wrapped around them.

  “Did you want to come with us?” Jang suddenly asked.

  Rong froze, then glanced at Andy, who grinned.

  She looked back at Jang and blushed. “I promise, next time we will go together,” Rong replied.

  Jang gave a small smile and a nod and noticed Rong's heart rate spiked. Then the small woman stomped her foot, and the two fell upward.

  Jang took the formation of the Albatross in with her senses.

  Then she was in a smooth interior, feeling them move slowly in a circle.

  “We have seats here, and a resting area there,” Andy pointed out as he pulled out the blankets and spread them out.

  “Where did you want to go?” he asked, taking a seat and relaxing into the shape.

  Jang moved to the other side of the egg-shaped table, took a seat, relaxed, and smiled.

  “We need to be able to spy, to see what our enemies are doing.” She said. “Head south, we will cross into Rainsoul Expanse Nation. A fellow envoy was deployed there, so if they sense us or we sense them, we know at what point we can watch.”

  Andy nodded, and the color shifted from scarlet to cloud-white.

  Guards and citizens alike watched it circle the city, then accelerate while its wings folded inward to head south.

  Jin Yue watched from an estate that had been granted to him by Velran’s supporters.

  It was not large, but it was in the Capital and had what he needed to cultivate. Around him, his core of supporters watched the craft leave with calculation.

  “Excellency, the siblings use colors. Red is the one called Andrew Dar Bloodforge.” Rou Hua said as she bowed to the Sect master.

  Yue gave a slight nod.

  “What have you found out about the sister?” Yue asked.

  “She has taken on the same color craft her brother used. Size-wise, she is significantly smaller than her brothers. Several sources state her Yin is strong enough that when she is around cultivators, their Meridians resonate.”

  Yue nodded. “Find out why. Her siblings have abilities we need; she may be the same.”

  Racing southward, the white Albatross moved higher and higher as they did not rush. Finally, when they reached over seven kilometers in altitude, the wings extended, and the world in the bird stilled.

  Jang lay on the blankets looking down through the transparent fuselage.

  Her eyesight was much stronger than Fong Lu’s, where all he could see were dots that were people.

  Jang could see much more.

  She could see burning fields.

  Small manning deployments were everywhere.

  Bodies everywhere, this wasn’t a conflict, this was a civil war.

  After a few chimes, she saw it, the capital.

  A large swath of it was burning. There were clashes in the street, then they passed overhead; no one noticed.

  There were waves of people heading southeast, towards Golden Claw.

  Then they felt it.

  Even at a distance, even shielded by altitude, a pressure spike rippled through the air—dense, violent, wrong—forcing Jang to flinch.

  Her body reacted before thought intervened.

  Breathing slowed.

  Hands stilled.

  Her aura locked down, compressed tight against herself.

  Because resonance was dangerous.

  Even accidental alignment could be noticed.

  And Nascent Souls noticed disturbances.

  From this far out, she could finally see what their techniques looked like—not detail, but scale. Range measured in city blocks. Effects that ignored walls, streets, and lives alike. The scope made her heart stutter.

  Below, people were dying without ever being targeted.

  Those caught within five hundred meters of the primary exchanges didn’t scream. Shockwaves ruptured organs before sound arrived—lungs collapsed, hearts tore loose in chests, blood vessels failed in an instant. Eardrums burst. Eyes went dark. Anyone below Foundation Establishment simply dropped, their bodies failing faster than fear could register.

  Further out, people tried to flee.

  Buildings collapsed as the fighters moved, structures failing not from direct impact but from resonance—Qi pressure folding load-bearing stone like wet clay. One of the men, defending more than attacking, released an art that manifested as a rolling wall of compressed air. It tore through a residential block, lifting the cultivator with it.

  Windows burst outward.

  Bodies followed.

  Limbs shattered on impact with streets or walls, those still alive dying moments later.

  Andrew forced Qi through his third eye to share Jang’s sight.

  He regretted it immediately.

  Farther from the epicenter, where the pressure wasn’t strong enough to kill outright, people simply… stopped. Some folded mid-stride, souls extinguished cleanly by spiritual shear while their bodies remained intact—standing, kneeling, slumped—waiting for instructions that would never come.

  The world below was not a battlefield.

  It was a casualty field.

  The stillness was worse than the noise.

  One heartbeat they were tearing through stone and air.

  The next—absence.

  Then something failed.

  A pressure inversion rolled outward, flattening what remained of the structure as it collapsed inward on itself, neat and absolute—too clean to be accidental. Jang had seen that shape of destruction before, only once, when Rong had folded a Calamity creature in on itself with gravity.

  “Ohhh my gods,” Jang breathed. Not awe. Recognition.

  Andrew looked around at the devastation—at the crater, the bodies, the way the air itself hadn’t settled yet—and asked the question that made sense if you didn’t fully grasp the rules.

  “Should we go make sure the other one is dead?”

  Jang turned on him.

  Not sharply.

  Not angrily.

  Cold.

  “No.”

  One word. Immediate. Absolute.

  She didn’t raise her voice, but her aura tightened—just enough that Andrew felt the edge of it brush him like a warning line.

  “No,” she repeated, slower now. “We do not approach a Nascent Soul death site.”

  Andrew opened his mouth.

  She cut him off without looking away from the ruin below.

  “If one of them is alive,” she said evenly, “and you step into that radius, you are not ‘checking.’ You are declaring yourself hostile.”

  She finally turned to him then, eyes steady, pupils tight.

  “And if both are dead,” she continued, “then what’s left down there is worse.”

  Andrew frowned. “Worse than a Nascent Soul?”

  “Yes.”

  She gestured toward the collapsed building.

  “Residual turbulence. Soul shear. Unanchored Qi. Maybe a collapsing remnant. Maybe nothing.” A beat. “Or maybe something that notices you.”

  She exhaled through her nose, slow and controlled.

  “You don’t confirm Nascent Soul deaths unless you are prepared to fight another one, explain yourself to Heaven, and justify every civilian who dies after you arrive.”

  Andrew swallowed.

  Jang’s voice softened—but only a fraction.

  “This is not a battlefield anymore,” she said. “It’s an aftermath zone. We observe. We record. We leave.”

  Another pause.

  “Golden Claw does not send envoys to finish Nascent Souls,” she added quietly. “We send them to pretend we were never close enough to matter.”

  Andrew stared downward. “Not sure if you noticed. You're not an Envoy or Golden Claw anymore, Excellency. I have a skill that consumes Qi. I am asking because if they are willing to come here to kill, then they are willing to come to Seldara. The difference is, they have been fighting hard for over an incense stick.” He pointed out.

  Jang did not turn to him immediately.

  That alone told Andrew he had landed the blow.

  Her jaw tightened—not in anger, but in calculation. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower, stripped of ceremony.

  “…I noticed,” she said.

  The word noticed carried weight. It meant she had already reclassified herself. It meant she had already accounted for the loss of title.

  She looked down again, eyes tracking the ruin, the lingering distortions in the air.

  “You’re right about one thing,” she said slowly. “Anyone willing to kill openly like that has already crossed every soft boundary we rely on.”

  Andrew waited.

  “They don’t respect distance,” Jang continued. “They don’t respect collateral. And they don’t respect precedent.” A breath. “Which means Seldara is not beneath their notice.”

  She turned to him then—really looked at him.

  “But you’re wrong about what that makes this,” she said. “This isn’t an opportunity.”

  Andrew’s brow furrowed.

  “It’s a threshold.”

  She raised a hand before he could respond.

  “Yes. They’ve been fighting for over an incense stick,” she acknowledged. “Yes. One of them may be weakened. Yes. Your technique could matter.”

  Each yes was deliberate. She wasn’t dismissing him. She was narrowing the field.

  “And if you go down there,” she went on, “you are not preventing future violence. You are entering the story.”

  Andrew felt that land like a weight.

  “You don’t get to kill a Nascent Soul quietly,” Jang said. “Not even wounded. Not even alone. The moment you intervene, every surviving witness—human, spiritual, or otherwise—rewrites what happened.”

  She gestured at the devastation.

  “This becomes: An outside force finished it.

  Which becomes: There are hunters.

  Which becomes: There is a reason to escalate.”

  Andrew clenched his jaw. “And if we do nothing?”

  Jang’s eyes softened—not with mercy, but with honesty.

  “Then we live with uncertainty,” she said. “And uncertainty is survivable.”

  She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

  “Andrew… if you kill what’s left down there, you don’t make Seldara safer.”

  A beat.

  “You make it interesting.”

  Silence stretched.

  Finally, she added the truth she hadn’t wanted to say before:

  “And if that Nascent Soul survives and comes north… I would rather face someone who thinks they won alone… than someone who knows they were hunted.”

  She straightened.

  “That’s the difference between a disaster passing through… and one turning around.”

  She didn’t order him.

  She didn’t forbid him.

  She simply said, very quietly:

  “We leave.”

  And Andrew understood then—not because she was right in theory, but because she was right in scale.

  Jang did not turn to him immediately.

  That alone told Andrew he had landed the blow.

  Her jaw tightened—not in anger, but in calculation. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower, stripped of ceremony.

  “…I noticed,” she said.

  The word noticed carried weight. It meant she had already reclassified herself. It meant she had already accounted for the loss of title.

  She looked down again, eyes tracking the ruin, the lingering distortions in the air.

  “You’re right about one thing,” she said slowly. “Anyone willing to kill openly like that has already crossed every soft boundary we rely on.”

  Andrew waited.

  “They don’t respect distance,” Jang continued. “They don’t respect collateral. And they don’t respect precedent.” A breath. “Which means Seldara is not beneath their notice.”

  She turned to him then—really looked at him.

  “But you’re wrong about what that makes this,” she said. “This isn’t an opportunity.”

  Andrew’s brow furrowed.

  “It’s a threshold.”

  She raised a hand before he could respond.

  “Yes. They’ve been fighting for over an incense stick,” she acknowledged. “Yes. One of them may be weakened. Yes. Your technique could matter.”

  Each yes was deliberate. She wasn’t dismissing him. She was narrowing the field.

  “And if you go down there,” she went on, “you are not preventing future violence. You are entering the story.”

  Andrew felt that land like a weight.

  “You don’t get to kill a Nascent Soul quietly,” Jang said. “Not even wounded. Not even alone. The moment you intervene, every surviving witness—human, spiritual, or otherwise—rewrites what happened.”

  She gestured at the devastation.

  “This becomes: An outside force finished it.

  Which becomes: There are hunters.

  Which becomes: There is a reason to escalate.”

  Andrew clenched his jaw. “And if we do nothing?”

  Jang’s eyes softened—not with mercy, but with honesty.

  “Then we live with uncertainty,” she said. “And uncertainty is survivable.”

  She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

  “Andrew… if you kill what’s left down there, you don’t make Seldara safer.”

  A beat.

  The bird tilted and began to move away.

  “We learned—even up high—that those like you sense air magic,” Andrew murmured, mostly to himself. “So we just use gravity and lift for now.”

  Jang didn’t answer. She watched the ruin recede until distance finally dulled the distortion, until the pressure eased enough that her shoulders dropped without her noticing.

  Only then did she speak.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  Andrew didn’t look away from the horizon. His eyes were tired in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

  “I think,” he said slowly, “we need to find out how much Energy Eater can consume from a Nascent Soul.”

  That got her full attention.

  “Each sibling has about a three-to-five-meter radius,” he continued. “Heat. Light. Aura. Qi. It all gets eaten. No backlash—just… absence.” He swallowed. “We’ve never pointed it at something that big.”

  Jang leaned in until her forehead touched his.

  The gesture wasn’t comfort.

  It was acknowledgment.

  “Have you chosen?” she asked quietly.

  Andrew closed his eyes.

  “When we get home…” he said, voice low, almost apologetic, “…I’ll recognize you.”

  A pause.

  “But be gentle,” he added. “I’m lazy. And I’m a free spirit.”

  Jang smiled against his temple—not wide, not amused.

  Resigned.

  “I know,” she said.

  And for the first time since the sky had torn itself open below them, neither of them looked back.

  When the bird finally glided down, Fong Lu was waiting.

  Commander Guo stood beside him.

  Neither looked whole.

  The Albatross touched down—and then failed.

  Its structure sagged outward and down as if its bones had given up all at once, wings folding with a tired groan. The moment the two passengers stepped clear, the craft sloughed apart in a soft collapse. Then—whoosh—a bloom of colorful fog vented from ruptured seals and dissipated into the air.

  Jang turned sharply. “We need to find a way to reduce your Qi signature,” she said, alarm ringing clear in her voice.

  Andrew shrugged.

  He turned around, walked a few steps away from the group, and released Energy Eater.

  The effect was immediate.

  Mana and Qi flowed toward him as if pulled by gravity—no turbulence, no backlash—just a steady, silent draw. The air dimmed. Colors dulled. Andrew wandered in a loose circle, making faint, distracted sucking noises as the field drank everything loose and unanchored.

  Then, just as abruptly, the entropy field snapped shut.

  Andrew rejoined Jang as if nothing had happened.

  Fong Lu frowned.

  He tested the air the way a trained cultivator did—slow, deliberate, instinctive. Like checking humidity before a storm.

  There was nothing.

  No Qi density. No background pressure.

  Dry.

  “What happened?” Jang asked.

  Guo answered instead.

  “We weren’t the only ones trying to hit the caravan.”

  Jang and Andrew both turned to Fong Lu.

  Up close, the damage was impossible to miss.

  Two fingers gone—cleanly severed. One ear torn, ragged at the edge. Andrew didn’t need Spirit Sense to see the internal injuries; Fong’s breathing was shallow, controlled too carefully.

  “…Apparently,” Fong said, voice steady through effort, “there was a team dealing with anyone who tried to leave. We made it a few kilometers out before they caught us.”

  “A separate group came all the way here?” Jang asked, stunned. “That’s forward planning.”

  Andrew laughed softly.

  Not amused.

  “You knew them,” he said. “You just didn’t realize they were the enemy.”

  Guo and Fong Lu stared.

  Jang turned slowly to Andrew as he stepped forward.

  “I can fix everything,” he said calmly. “Except the fingers. Shepard or Jianrong can do that.” A pause. “If you want them back.”

  The implication hung there.

  The air was still dry.

  And for the first time since landing, Jang realized the danger hadn’t followed them home.

  It had been waiting for them.

  Jang looked at Fong Lu. “Who?”

  Fong nodded, exhausted, then glanced at Guo.

  Guo cleared his throat, “Vice Commander Haoyu, Captain Qian, and his entire team.”

  Jang realized that made up over a third of her fighting force. “Do we know why?”

  Guo shook his head.

  “There was a group like Gold Claw I know about,” Andrew said with a knowing smile. “By any chance were these people quick to the tow the empires policies, saw the Emperor as ordained by Heaven?”

  The implication hung there.

  The air was still dry.

  And for the first time since landing, Jang realized the danger hadn’t followed them home.

  It had been waiting for them.

  Jang looked at Fong Lu. “Who?”

  Fong nodded, exhausted, then glanced at Guo.

  Guo cleared his throat. “Vice Commander Haoyu. Captain Qian. And his entire team.”

  Jang went still.

  That was over a third of her remaining combat strength. Not junior officers. Not expendables. People she had trusted with independent authority.

  “Do we know why?” she asked.

  Guo shook his head. “No demands. No warning. Just… certainty.”

  Andrew chuckled softly.

  “There was a group like Golden Claw I know about,” he said, the smile that came with it thin and knowing. “Tell me—were they quick to toe imperial policy? Fond of doctrine? Talked about order like it was a virtue instead of a tool?”

  Jang didn’t answer right away.

  She didn’t need to.

  “Yes,” Guo said slowly. “They spoke often about Heaven’s Mandate. About keeping things… pure.”

  Andrew nodded once. “Thought so.”

  Jang exhaled through her nose. Not anger. Recognition.

  “They weren’t defectors,” she said quietly.

  “No,” Andrew agreed. “They were pre-positioned.”

  The word settled like dust.

  “They didn’t come to steal,” he continued. “They came to decide who gets to leave. Who gets to live. Who gets reported.”

  Guo’s hands curled into fists. “They were going to turn us over.”

  Andrew met his eyes. “Eventually.”

  Silence stretched again—thicker this time.

  Jang straightened.

  “Then this wasn’t an ambush,” she said. “It was a loyalty test.”

  Andrew smiled faintly. “And you failed.”

  Guo looked sick.

  Jang didn’t.

  She had already moved past shock. Past betrayal.

  This wasn’t treason.

  This was doctrine doing precisely what it was designed to do.

  Jang turned. “Where have you seen this before?”

  Andrew kept healing. “It would be hard to explain, but where there are humans, there will always be people who believe the propaganda enough to sell their own family out.”

  Andy said… then with respect.

  “Master.”