The thought reassured the Young Master—for now. His rigid posture loosened ever so slightly as he allowed himself a fleeting moment of relief, yet deep within the cavernous recesses of his mind, doubt festered like a slow poison.

'If not Otako—then who?'

And more importantly—'how powerful was this unknown force to warrant the intervention of his strong warriors?'

His fingers instinctively curled into a vice-like grip around the silk sash at his waist. The fine material crumpled under the force of his grasp, mirroring the storm brewing within him. His breath steadied, but his heartbeat remained erratic. Regardless of the answers, one thing remained immutable: he would obtain the elixir—no matter the cost.

Meanwhile, beneath the ruined temple deep within the forest, an older man sat in the shadows, his voice an eerie hum as he chanted in slow, deliberate cadence. His sunken eyes remained shut, his gaunt face illuminated only by the dim glow of the formation circling the unconscious woman lying before him. Dark tendrils of spiritual energy slithered through the cracks of the stone floor, snaking toward his fingertips.

Then—his eyelids snapped open.

A manic glint flashed across his pupils as he sucked in a sharp breath. The very air quivered under the force of the energy surging from afar.

'This energy… is overwhelmingly strong.' His lips curled into a twisted grin. 'And I feel it, even from the depths of this forsaken place.'

His skeletal fingers twitched, impatience seizing him. His mind raced—this was it. This was the breakthrough he had been clawing for, the key to surpassing his limits. He wouldn't have to rely on the inefficient sacrifices of young bitches anymore. The elixir would be his.

Without hesitation, his figure blurred and vanished like mist in the cold night air, shooting toward the source of the pulsating power.

At the same time, in the heart of a grand but dimly lit chamber, the three heads of martial arts factions sat stiffly around a circular table. Tension crackled like a taut wire between them, their eyes brimming with calculation and barely restrained greed.

The whispers of the Young Master's defeat had reached their ears, the news carried by spies and trembling subordinates. Half of his forces—gone. A crack in his armor, an opportunity they could not afford to waste. Yet, despite the unity in their ambition, discord brewed beneath their negotiations.

They were already arguing over the spoils—before the first strike was even made.

'Counting eggs without chickens, aren't we?' The youngest scoffed under his breath. His arms remained crossed, his expression unreadable, but his thoughts whirled like a storm. He knew the cunning depths of the two masters sitting before him. If not for his grandfather's insistence, he would never have agreed to this collaboration.

"Why don't we attack first and see what we can seize?" The oldest master leaned forward, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the aged wooden table. His voice was measured, but the hunger in his gaze was unmistakable. "Then, we divide accordingly."

The man with silver hair nodded without hesitation. "That will do. I'll send five hundred men."

The oldest master smirked, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Likewise."

The youngest master hesitated—but only for a breath. His grandfather had made his stance clear, and hesitation in the face of these two wolves would only give them room to pounce. "Fine. I will send the same number," he relented, though his voice lacked conviction.

The decision was made.

"Alright, let's disperse and reassemble in an hour," the oldest master instructed, his tone sharp. They each rose, their figures disappearing into the shadows.

Just before dawn, the quiet hum of the night was shattered.

The Samurai man guarding the entrance to the alchemy chamber beside Pharsa and Mushu stiffened. His ears caught the distant sound of clashing steel, of hurried footsteps crashing through the underbrush. He unsheathed his blade in one fluid motion, the steel glinting under the cold light of the moon.

Then—bodies dropped.

One after another, lifeless forms tumbled before them, their blood painting the ground like a macabre warning.

Pharsa's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before amusement flickered across her sharp features. Is this what they meant by 'raining men'? She mused internally, the irony dark yet strangely fitting.

Mushu wasted no time. His voice rang with authority as he ordered his team, "Gather the bodies! Send them to Camp Blaze for identification and disposal." His men scrambled into motion, their expressions grim yet focused.

The Samurai beside Mushu stiffened. His sharp intuition prickled with unease—a lurking presence, unseen but tangible, exuded an ominous darkness. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened.

"Guard the door," he ordered, voice low and urgent. "Be on your guard."

Without another word, he vanished into the night, a streak of silver amidst the shadows.

Mushu and Pharsa exchanged glances before simultaneously unsheathing their weapons, their stances mirroring one another—alert, ready.

The corpses continued to rain.

Shi Min stood near the window of his bedroom, his eyes locked on the battlefield below. He could feel it—a shift in the air, an unnatural tension crawling beneath his skin. His impulse urged him to chase the shadowed presence, yet as he saw the Samurai dart into the darkness, he steadied himself.

He would not act recklessly.

Four Eyes had remained in the twins' nursery, his instincts a silent force that commanded him to stay. He sat unmoving in the rocking chair, his eyes closed, his breaths measured—but his senses sharpened. He felt it, too. The foreign presence. The disturbance in the air.

Worry gnawed at him.

Then, the thought of his parents tightened his chest.

Without a word, he moved.

In the living room, Butler Peng and several of Mushu's top subordinates straightened as Four Eyes descended the staircase.

"Master, is there anything you need?" Butler Peng's voice was polite but firm.

"I want to check on my parents," Four Eyes answered, his gaze unwavering.

"Young Master Shi Min has already made arrangements. Pharsa's team is guarding their courtyard, ensuring no disturbance. She performed acupuncture last night to keep them sleeping peacefully."

Four Eyes remained still for a moment. Then, an exhale—one laced with gratitude.

Shi Min had thought ahead—far ahead.

Four Eyes nodded. "Thank you."

With that, he turned, retreating to his silent vigil over his two princesses.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.