Han Yu thought of Senior Sister Xuan Qing, Wu Shuan, Senior Brother Duan and the others.
They had grown quickly under his support.
Resources.
Techniques.
Pills.
Everything.
Yet it was not enough.
Not yet.
Nascent Soul realm.
That was the minimum.
Without it escape meant death and Han Yu refused to drag them into hopelessness. He would carve out their future himself even if that meant he had to drown the Blood Sect in chaos.
He began planning.
The work consumed him.
Every possibility.
Every risk.
Every chain reaction.
If Elder A killed Elder B, who would benefit?
If Peak Head C died, which faction would rise?
Which disciples hated one another?
Which peaks competed?
Which elders had hidden grudges?
Han Yu built networks.
Charts.
Lines connecting people.
Entire walls became filled with names.
Even Chitterfang's battalions got involved.
The rats spread across the sect.
Gathering information.
Listening.
Observing.
Years passed like this.
