The journey was a blur of motion and shifting landscapes. The Gale-Striders lived up to their name, carrying them across rolling plains and through dense, ancient forests with a ground-devouring speed that made the world a rushing tapestry of green and brown. The steady *thrum-thrum* of their feet was a calming rhythm after the sounds of battle.
After days of forest trails, they emerged into a sight that stole Gen's breath. A colossal waterfall, wider than the Jade Palace's main hall, thundered down a mossy cliff into a deep, mist-filled gorge. But the water didn't just pool; it spread, fracturing into a thousand glittering channels that wove through a labyrinth of stone pillars and islands, creating a vast, shimmering wetland. It was a world of liquid light and echoing roar.
"Whoa," Gen breathed, slowing his Strider to a walk as they picked their way along a submerged stone path. Water sprayed around them, cool and refreshing. "This is nothing like the mountain."
Beside him, Li Fen expertly guided her mount around a deeper pool. "That's because you spent your life on one mountain, Young Master. Your world was a peak, a capital, and a single road. The world is a bit bigger than that."
Gen made a face at her. "I knew there were other places. I just… didn't have a pressing need to tour them." He refused to admit that the capital, for all its grandeur, had felt like the entire universe. This untamed, sprawling beauty was humbling in a different way.
"A likely story," Li Fen laughed, the sound blending with the waterfall's distant rumble.
They continued, splashing through shallow channels, the Striders' broad feet providing stable purchase on the slick stone. For a moment, the sheer novelty of the place lifted their spirits, the horror of the Jade Palace receding behind the curtain of mist and rainbows.
The lightness shattered when Liang's Strider, a pace ahead, stumbled violently. The creature let out a startled squawk, its leg catching on something submerged. Liang was nearly thrown, managing to cling on as the Strider righted itself, shaking water from its feathers.
"What was that?" Liang called, dismounting cautiously into the knee-deep water.
Gen and Li Fen halted, their amusement gone. Gen slid from his mount, the cool water soaking his boots and trousers. He waded over to where Liang was prodding at a dark, cloth-wrapped shape half-buried in the gravel of the stream bed.
It was an arm. A human arm, pale and lifeless.
"Over here!" Li Fen called from a few yards away, her voice tight. Another body, this one of a older man in merchant's robes, was draped over a low rock, the water washing gently around him.
The splash and chatter of the group ceased. Behind them, Ting, Madame Su, and the elders brought the column to a stop. They dismounted, their expressions turning grim as they surveyed the scene.
The misty, beautiful waterland had become a graveyard. They found more bodies—some in simple travel clothes, others in the distinctive, practical garb of low-level caravan guards. A few wore the remnants of cultivator's robes, now torn and stained.
Elder Wen crouched by one of the cultivator bodies, turning the man's head gently. "Third Wheel. Jingdao foundation. His neck was snapped cleanly. No struggle marks on his hands."
"A mixed convoy," Madame Su observed, her voice low. "Merchants, guards, and hired cultivator escorts. All cut down."
Ting did not kneel. He stood perfectly still in the shallow water, his eyes losing their focus on the physical world. A subtle, profound intensity gathered around him. The air seemed to grow heavier, the light bending minutely towards him.
*Mastery Eyes,* Liang thought with a jolt of recognition, though the scale was incomprehensible. *But a thousand times deeper than mine. He's not just seeing energy traces… he's reading the story left in the water, the air, the very echo of violence.*
After a long, silent minute, Ting blinked, the strange pressure lifting. "They were attacked. Ambushed, I would think, given the positioning. But by what… the residue is strange. Muddled. Furious, but not bestial." He looked at the group, his gaze sharp. "We stick together. There is a survivor nearby. Their spirit flickers with terror. I cannot tell if they are victim or a trap. Fan out, but stay in sight of each other. Search."
The order sent a chill through them. They moved in pairs, the serene beauty of the place now feeling like a predatory lure. It was Gen, Liang, and Li Fen, combing a cluster of large, mossy boulders, who heard it first—a weak, shuddering gasp.
Behind a curtain of hanging vines near the base of the waterfall's spray, a man was curled in a hollow. He was middle-aged, his fine merchant robes ruined by mud and blood from a deep gash on his scalp. He clutched a broken wagon wheel spoke like a club. When he saw the three young faces peering in, his eyes widened in pure animal fear, and he scrabbled backwards, raising the pathetic weapon.
"Stay back! I have nothing left! Nothing!" he rasped, voice raw with terror.
Gen held up his hands, taking a slow step forward, making himself as non-threatening as possible. "We're not here to hurt you. We found the others. We want to help."
The man's wild eyes darted between them, the terror not receding. "Bandits… thieves… all of you… just leave me alone…"
Ting and the others arrived. The sight of the elders, of Madame Su's stern grace and Ting's unreadable calm, did little to reassure the man. If anything, the presence of so many powerful-looking cultivators seemed to confirm his worst fears.
"Let us take him somewhere he can breathe," Ting said gently. "Give him space."
They retreated to a dry, high-walled cave a short distance from the water's edge. A small campfire was lit, pushing back the damp chill and casting dancing shadows on the stone.
Gen and Liang sat off to one side, speaking in hushed tones. "Bandits strong enough to take out a Third Wheel cultivator?" Gen muttered, poking the fire with a stick. "And without a fight? How?"
"Without warning," Liang said, his voice analytical but troubled. "If they were disguised, or struck from perfect cover… a snapped neck doesn't require a drawn-out battle."
"Only cowards attack like that," Gen declared, his old sense of martial honor flaring. "A real fight is face to face. You test your skill, your will."
On the other side of the fire, Li Fen, who was cleaning a minor scrape on her hand, let out a soft, exasperated sigh. "And that, Gen Jiang, is why you would make a terrible bandit, and a worse survivor in the real world. Honor is a luxury you buy with overwhelming power. When you don't have it, surprise and ruthlessness are the only currencies that matter." She shook her head. "You're a fool if you think the world fights by your rules."
"I'd rather be a fool than a snake in the grass!" Gen shot back, stung.
"And yet the snake eats the righteous mouse," she retorted calmly.
They were still quietly bickering when Ting returned from the cave entrance, the injured merchant walking beside him, looking less frantic but no less haunted. Ting had done something—a word, a look, a touch of calming energy—to settle his spirit.
The man accepted a cup of warmed water from Madame Su and sat closer to the fire, the towel around his shoulders like a shield. He looked at the circle of faces, young and old, and some of the fear finally bled into weary gratitude.
"I… I thank you," he began, his voice rough. "When I saw so many of you, after… I thought it was another group of them."
"Another group of who?" Gen asked, leaning forward. "The bandits?"
The man gave a broken, hollow laugh. "Bandits. Yes. They call themselves that. 'The Revolutionaries.'" He spat the name like a curse. "We are on the outskirts of the Four Kingdoms region here. The strong prey on the weak; it has always been so. That is why men like me pay good Milky Stones to men like him," he gestured vaguely to one of the dead cultivators outside, "for protection. But this… this was different."
He took a shuddering breath, his eyes losing focus, seeing the past. "My daughter and I… we were taking a shipment of spirit-herbs to the Heaven's Gate Kingdom. The last true royal seat. The prince there… he is said to be just." Tears welled in his eyes, overflowing to cut tracks through the grime on his cheeks. "They came out of the mist. Dozens of them. Not ragged highwaymen. Organized. Some were just brutes, First Wheel thugs. Others… others moved the air, twisted the light. Second, Third Wheels. And at their head…"
He trembled violently, gripping the cup. "A man whose aura felt like a mountain falling on my soul. Fourth Wheel. At least. Our guards… our brave, expensive guards… they took one look and fled. Left us to the butcher's yard." A sob racked him. "My Xiao… my little bird… I saw her pulled from the wagon… then I was struck… I don't know… I don't know where she is…" He broke down, weeping openly into his hands.
The fire crackled, the only sound besides his grief. Gen's earlier anger was gone, replaced by a cold, hard knot of fury in his gut. He saw not just an attack, but a betrayal. The strong abandoning the weak. It was the same sickness that had taken Captain Wen, just dressed in different robes.
Ting's voice was quiet but piercing. "A Fourth Wheel cultivator. Such a one has walked far on the path. They have touched the principle of **Heidow**—Combination. They could found a minor school, gain prestige, build a legacy. Why turn to common banditry? Why prey on merchants for stones?"
The merchant wiped his face, struggling for composure. "Milky Stones… you cultivators, you use them for light, for currency, for focused meditation. But their greatest value… it is the gates."
All the Jade Palace disciples looked puzzled. Even Liang frowned.
"Gates?" Kaito rumbled, speaking for the first time in hours.
"Yes," the merchant nodded, some of his professional knowledge surfacing through the pain. "Scattered across the world are… doorways. Sealed by ancient, powerful formations. They require vast amounts of pure, concentrated energy to open—energy only found in high-grade Milky Stones. Inside… are treasure grounds. Places of immense ambient energy, rare herbs, sometimes lost techniques or artifacts. Your own Jade Needles… legend says the site was once such a gate, opened long ago by a consortium of powers." He looked around at their understanding dawning. "A Fourth Wheel cultivator, especially one without backing… the stones needed to attempt to open a minor gate are a fortune. A fortune he could steal faster than he could earn."
Madame Su's face was pale with a dawning, terrible understanding. "It's not just greed," she whispered. "It's despair."
Everyone looked at her.
"Think," she said, her voice heavy. "For months, the sky has held five swords. The one being who reached the pinnacle of our understanding is dead, unmade before the world. For many cultivators, their entire worldview—the Wheel they dedicated their lives to—has been shattered. What is the point of a legacy if the world ends in five years? What is the point of righteous accumulation if a Heavenly General can erase it all on a whim?" She looked at the weeping merchant. "So why not take? Why not do what you want, seize what you can, and chase a desperate dream of power before the final darkness falls? If the world is doomed, then morality is the first casualty."
Her words landed like stones in the quiet cave. It made a horrifying, perfect sense. The damocles weren't just a physical threat; they were a poison in the soul of the cultivation world, eroding hope and unleashing the monsters within.
Ting looked at his students, seeing the grim realization on their faces. "Rest now," he said to them all. To the merchant, he added, "We will escort you to the border of the Four Kingdoms. From there, you are on your own."
The man bowed his head, fresh tears of gratitude falling. "Thank you. Thank you."
Later, Gen lay on his bedroll, staring at the cave ceiling, listening to the distant, eternal roar of the waterfall. The fire had died to embers. The merchant's sobs had quieted into exhausted sleep. But Gen's mind was racing.
*Revolutionaries.* The word echoed. They weren't revolting against a king or a tyrant. They were revolting against hope itself, against the future, against any rule but the law of the sharpest fang. The world Jiang had kept in careful, serene balance was now spinning into chaos, and the cracks were showing in blood and stolen stones. He thought of the man's daughter, Xiao, pulled into the mist. He thought of the Fourth Wheel cultivator, strong enough to build something, choosing instead to destroy.
The cozy, predictable universe of the mountain was gone. He was sailing into the storm, and the waves were made of human desperation. He closed his eyes, but sleep was a long time coming, chased away by the phantom cries of the lost and the cold logic of a world giving up on tomorrow.