The quiet of the Whispering Woods was shattered by a sound like tearing silk. Above the limestone overhang, the sky bled crimson as a Great River Clan signal flare hung suspended in the air, bathing the forest in an ominous, flickering light.
"They found us," Seraphina hissed, her rapier already humming with a deadly silver frost.
Vincy scrambled to his feet, reaching for the Void-Cutter. He channeled his Qi, and the matte-black blade groaned as it rose from the earth, its gravity-well distorting the grass beneath it. But as he looked out into the trees, his heart sank.
They weren't just being hunted; they were encircled.
Dozens of elite disciples in azure robes emerged from the shadows, their formations tight and disciplined. They didn't charge. They simply tightened the ring, their spears glowing with a coordinated water-attribute Qi that formed a shimmering, inescapable barrier.
The circle parted to let a single man through. He didn't wear the standard disciple robes; he was draped in heavy, dark blue scale-mail that seemed to ripple like the surface of a deep lake. His face was a mask of cold, controlled fury—lines of grief etched deeply around his eyes.
"So," the man said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in Vincy's chest. "The 'Sparrow' and the Traitor-Goddess. I expected giants. Instead, I find a boy who can barely hold his sword and a girl who has traded her sect's honor for a fugitive's life."
"Who are you?" Vincy demanded, trying to keep his hands from shaking.
The man's eyes locked onto the storage rings on Vincy's fingers—the rings he had taken from Cyrus and Baron. The man's aura flared, a crushing pressure that forced Vincy to his knees.
"I am General Kaelen, Arbitrator of the Great River Clan," the man whispered. "And you are wearing the inheritance of my sons. My only sons."
The air grew heavy with moisture, the humidity making it difficult to breathe. Kaelen raised a hand, and the azure barrier behind him thickened into a wall of solid, pressurized water. There was nowhere left to run.
"The Myriad School wants you alive for your secrets," Kaelen said, his voice devoid of mercy. "The Merchant Conglomerate wants you dead for the bounty. But I... I simply want you to suffer."
He stepped closer, his boots crunching on the charred remains of their failed supper.
"You have two options, children. Surrender. Lay down your weapons, and I will ensure your deaths are swift and relatively painless before I hand your corpses to the School. Or Fight. Resist me, and I will use the Great River Soul-Scouring technique to peel the memories from your brains while you are still screaming, then leave what's left of you to rot in these woods."
Seraphina glanced at Vincy. Her silver eyes were sharp, looking for any gap in the formation, but she found nothing. Even with her "Cold Truth," the gap in cultivation was a mountain.
"Vincy," Piet's voice was no longer arrogant; it was a razor-thin needle of focused intent. "The General is at the peak of the Foundation Establishment realm, nearing the Core Formation. If you fight him normally, you die in three breaths."
"Then what do we do, Piet?" Vincy thought frantically.
"You have the Star-Core in that blade and the Primeval Fire in your gut," Piet hissed. "Stop acting like a student and start acting like a disaster. We don't need to defeat him. We just need to break the world enough to make him let go."
Vincy looked at Kaelen, then at the heavy black sword in his hand. He felt the "Living Furnace" pulse against its shell, eager to be unleashed.
"We aren't surrendering," Vincy said, his voice cracking but firm.
Kaelen's eyes flared with a murderous light. "Then you have chosen the long death."