no grand procession, no farewell ceremony, just four figures walking through the outer gate as the barrier shimmered and parted one final time.
The guards on duty lowered their heads and said nothing.
Some looked relieved.
Others looked afraid.
The mountain path beyond the sect boundary quickly turned wild — overgrown with spirit vines that glowed faintly in the twilight, air thick with the scent of pine and distant thunder.
No roads.
No maps.
Just the open sky and the knowledge that every step took them farther from safety.
Xiao Yang led the way — not because he knew the terrain, but because he moved with purpose.
His senses were sharp, Nascent Soul perception sweeping ahead for danger.
Behind him, Su Qingxue walked in silence, ice-blue robes whispering against the grass.
Ling Xue'er kept pace beside her — small steps, eyes scanning the shadows.
Huo Lanyue brought up the rear — hips swaying with deliberate laziness, crimson robe fluttering like a banner of war.
They spoke little for the first few hours.
The silence wasn't tense.
It was heavy — the kind that settles after a long scream finally stops.
As night fell, they found shelter in a shallow ravine — a natural overhang of black rock veined with glowing quartz.
A small stream cut through the center, water warm from underground heat.
They made camp without words.
Huo Lanyue conjured a ring of low crimson flames — not for warmth, but for light and warning.
Su Qingxue formed a thin ice barrier around the perimeter — fragile, but enough to alert them to intruders.
Ling Xue'er gathered dry spirit wood and kindled a small fire inside the ring.
Xiao Yang sat on a flat stone near the stream, knees drawn up, staring into the water.
Huo Lanyue dropped down beside him — close enough that her thigh pressed against his.
"You're quiet tonight," she said.
"Regretting bringing me along?"
Xiao Yang shook his head once.
"I'm thinking about how small the gains are now.
How slow everything feels."
She tilted her head.
"You're not used to patience."
"I'm not used to stagnation."
Huo Lanyue laughed softly.
"Welcome to immortality, boy.
Power comes fast at first — like a flood.
Then it slows to a trickle.
And you spend centuries waiting for the next drop."
She leaned closer — breasts brushing his arm through the thin silk.
"But you have us.
We're not drops.
We're rivers."
Xiao Yang turned to look at her.
Her golden eyes reflected the firelight — molten, unreadable.
"You don't regret it?" he asked.
"Last night.
Choosing this."
Huo Lanyue's smile was slow.
"I regret waiting two centuries to feel alive again.
Everything else… is just noise."
Su Qingxue approached from the other side — sitting on a rock opposite them.
She drew her knees up, arms wrapped around them.
"We're exposed now," she said quietly.
"No sect protection.
No formations.
The first righteous sect patrol that finds us will call for execution.
The first demonic cultivator will see easy prey."
Ling Xue'er sat beside her — small, but steady.
"We're stronger than any patrol," she said.
"And we're not prey anymore."
Huo Lanyue looked at her — something almost fond in her gaze.
"You're learning fast, little saintess."
Ling Xue'er met her eyes.
"I had good teachers."
The fire crackled.
Xiao Yang felt the system stir — faint, almost hesitant.
Environmental scan complete.
Hidden spirit vein detected 3 li north.
Potential abode location.
Minor opportunity: Secure it for +0.04% Nascent Soul purity.
He dismissed it.
But the idea stayed.
He stood.
"We move north at dawn.
There's a spirit vein.
We claim it.
Build something defensible."
Huo Lanyue rose with him — body brushing his as she did.
"And then?" she asked.
Xiao Yang looked into the darkness ahead.
"Then we grow.
Slow.
Steady.
Until no sect can touch us."
Su Qingxue stood too.
"And if they come anyway?"
Xiao Yang's voice was calm — almost gentle.
"Then we show them what happens when you try to take what's ours."
Ling Xue'er rose last — small smile on her lips.
"Like we took theirs."
The four of them stood in a loose circle around the fire — shadows stretching long behind them.
No one spoke of guilt tonight.
No one spoke of the past.
Only the future — dark, uncertain, but theirs.
The flames danced higher.
And somewhere in the distance, a thunder rumbled — not tribulation, but promise.
The wilds waited.
And they walked toward them.