After the near-disaster of the earth bridge, they plunged into the hidden passage Ge Zhiyao remembered. It was an ancient side-tunnel once used by the military to move troops through the mines, its entrance long swallowed by weeds and layers of rock, invisible to anyone who didn't know where to look.
They slipped inside and followed the twisting route downward. The stone walls were slick with moisture, the air thick and stale. Luo Yan ignited a flame for light, its red glow painting the pitted rock in restless shadows.
"The narrow shaft up ahead… once we pass it, we'll reach the main route," Ge Zhiyao murmured, about to lead the way—
"Hss… something's wrong!" Mozi's ears snapped upright. His sensitivity to spiritual currents sharpened in an instant. "Something's coming. I can't tell how many… they're on us!"
Before the words fully fell—
From the darkness behind them came the clean, cold sound of metal leaving a sheath.
Clang.
A flying needle tore through the air, aimed straight at Luo Yan's chest!
"Watch out!" Lin Yaochen reacted instantly. His left hand flicked up, and an earth wall snapped into place with a thud, knocking the needle out of the air.
And in the next heartbeat, four shadows flashed from fissures in the tunnel walls—light-footed, soundless—
Shadow Pavilion assassins.
"An ambush?!" Ge Zhiyao's face tightened. She yanked out her repeating crossbow and fired three bolts in quick succession, sealing off their line.
The killers dodged with eerie ease. One surged out of the black haze, short blade sliding like a serpent, cleaving straight toward Mozi's spine—
"Looking for death?" Mozi's eyes flared silver. With a snap of his spirit wings, a wind-cleaving edge burst outward. Blade and wing collided with a violent crack, stone splintering as the attacker was blasted back several steps.
"This is bad," Ge Zhiyao hissed through clenched teeth. "Gu Ying didn't chase because she didn't need to. She's been waiting here."
Luo Yan's temper surged like poured oil. Fire Yao power answered his instinct. He flipped both palms and hurled twin streams of flame down the corridor, forcing two assassins to retreat.
"Get behind me. I'll open the way!" he growled, stomping forward. His fire scorched into a blazing ring, widening their space by sheer heat and pressure.
"I'm with you!" Lin Yaochen followed, controlling loose rock into a thick earthen shield, guarding their rear as they pulled back.
"Left branch tunnel, now!" Ge Zhiyao seized her father and sprinted into a turn, using the chaos as cover.
As they plunged into the concealed pit-like route—
Gu Ying finally appeared above, coat whipping in the wind as she looked down with calm, lethal certainty.
"…You won't get away."
Deep in the mine passage, they stumbled into a tunnel wrapped in heavy rock walls like a clenched fist. Luo Yan and Lin Yaochen raised a fire barrier and an earth wall, sealing the entrance. Mozi stayed at the outer edge, watching for movement.
"This… doesn't feel like a normal mine," Ge Zhiyao muttered, frowning as she ran her fingers along the stone.
Her fingertips caught on a slanted pattern.
"This is my grandfather's hidden mark—" Her decision was instant. She pressed lightly with Gold Yao power.
A deep mechanical rumble answered.
The stone wall shifted inward, grinding open to reveal an ancient concealed corridor.
Lin Yaochen blinked. "There's more stuff hidden in here?"
When the firelight poured in, a space preserved by time unfolded before them—
Rust-spotted racks still held old weapons, broken shields, and dented helmets. Unopened wooden crates were stacked against the wall. A half-intact iron drafting table stood in the center, littered with yellowed schematics and scattered test components.
"This is…" Ge Zhiyao's eyes reddened as she rushed to the table, hands trembling while she turned the fragile pages. "My mother helped build this. A subterranean armory."
"I can fix the repeating crossbow here," she said, voice tight with emotion. "And I can try channeling Yao power directly into weapon structures… We've got tools. Materials."
Even as she spoke, her hands were already moving—choosing parts, wiping down instruments, sorting metal like a ritual she had missed for years.
Luo Yan and Lin Yaochen exchanged a glance and silently began helping.
Lin Yaochen cleared a clean patch of ground to set up a makeshift camp and checked their gear for damage. Luo Yan used Fire Yao power to create a steady heat source like a controlled forge, raising the temperature to exactly what Zhiyao needed.
Mozi stood by the entrance and said grimly, "We can hide here for three days. Not more, not less. I'll guard the door. You move fast. Tie Ye's forces won't be far behind."
Firelight trembled. The air smelled of metal, oil, and old history.
Ge Zhiyao tied her long hair into a high ponytail and pulled on an old leather work coat. Sleeves rolled up, forearms smudged with soot, she sat at the drafting table. Left hand pinned down a blueprint. Right hand flew across fresh paper, sketching structural lines with ruthless speed.
"I'm reinforcing the torsion core," she muttered, half to herself, half to the weapon. "Switching to a three-ring gear set to stabilize the firing rhythm."
Lin Yaochen leaned in, brows knitting. "This looks like… formation diagrams."
"Yao-channeling arrays," she said, tapping several tiny structural nodes that resembled sigils. "They regulate the flow rate inside the weapon, so it injects like water but doesn't surge. These are 'stall ports'—they prevent imbalance."
Lin Yaochen nodded very seriously. "I understand none of that. But it sounds terrifyingly impressive."
At the forge, Luo Yan kept the heat steady, flame pressed close to the mouth of the furnace. Ge Zhiyao fed in sliced Gold-crystal copper. In moments it became a clear, molten gold-red.
"Now," she called, "we cast the core."
Lin Yaochen passed her gears and steel springs he'd prepped. Their teamwork was clean, almost instinctive. Luo Yan controlled temperature so every quench, every cool, every grind landed with precision.
Hours later, the new repeating crossbow took shape.
Ge Zhiyao set it on the table and pushed lightly. The mechanism purred, arms unfolding smoothly. The bolt channel glimmered with faint Yao-pattern light.
"It can fire seven bolts in sequence," she said, lifting her eyes. "Each bolt can be infused with Gold Yao power. It punches through heavy armor."
Her voice hardened into a vow. "This will save more people."
While rummaging near a metal chest, Luo Yan found a half-used plate of Yao-gold copper. His fingers brushed a red fire-mark etched into the surface.
"This material…" he said softly, "could it be made into something for controlling my fire?"
Ge Zhiyao considered, then nodded. "Yes. I'll design a simple prototype for a fire-control bracer. We start with basic channel guidance."
She returned to the table, pulled out one of her mother's old heat-flow diagrams, and began rewriting it—simplifying, re-drawing, building an architecture of "fire-vein flow lines" that could control direction and intensity.
"This isn't just a weapon," she said without looking up. "It's the first step of learning what your Yao power is."
Her tone was calm. Her pencil moved steady and sure, every stroke clean.
Luo Yan sat beside her, chin propped in his hand. At first he meant to watch the design.
But somewhere along the line, his gaze drifted to her face.
The way she focused—brows slightly knit, a loose strand of hair falling near her ear, the soft scratch of charcoal against paper—made the world go quiet. He felt his mouth curve without permission. He looked away, hand resting over his chest, exhaling slowly.
Something unnamed stirred in him—warm, stubborn, taking root.
Zhiyao paused and turned her head. "Why are you staring at me?"
Luo Yan froze like he'd been caught stealing. He sat up straight. "Because you're pretty."
Her charcoal pencil stopped mid-stroke. For a moment her eyes went blank with surprise—and then the tips of her ears flushed.
Realizing what he'd blurted, Luo Yan panicked and added quickly, "I mean—your blueprint! The blueprint looks good! You draw… beautifully!"
He coughed and forced his gaze elsewhere. "That fire-vein whatever-line… it has aesthetic value."
Ge Zhiyao looked at him for a beat. She didn't expose him. She only clicked her tongue lightly.
"Stop talking nonsense. If you ruin this design, I'm not redrawing it for you."
"Hey, hey, don't be like that. I complimented you and everything."
She didn't answer. She turned back to work, but the pencil tip trembled the slightest bit, and the blush on her cheeks refused to fade.
In the corner, Lin Yaochen—chewing dry rations—half-lidded his eyes at the two of them, shook his head, and muttered with a theatrical sigh.
"Heartless. Truly heartless. No concern at all for the feelings of a single dog."
Night deepened, but the firelight stayed alive.
Ge Zhiyao's hands were stained with iron dust and ink, her focus razor-sharp. Luo Yan sat nearby practicing: keeping a flame cupped in his palm without letting it scatter or lash out. Lin Yaochen sat cross-legged in the shadows, drilling earth-flow techniques while listening for movement beyond the hidden door.
This was the hush before battle.
A night where hope was reforged—
bolt by bolt, line by line, breath by breath.