The old woman's story lingered in Yang Luoya's mind like a fading echo—yet instead of disappearing, it only grew louder the more he thought about it.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
"…You said this story has been passed down through generations?" Yang Luoya asked, his tone careful, as if testing something fragile.
The old woman nodded.
"Yes… I heard it from my mother, and she from her mother, and so on." She smiled faintly, though there was something distant in her eyes. "But I've never seen the original records. Those are kept under strict protection by the mayor."
Yang Luoya's gaze sharpened slightly.
"…So it's impossible to read it? Even if we were willing to pay?"
Yang Wei frowned beside him, confusion flickering across his face. His brother's behavior—this sudden, almost obsessive interest—felt… unusual.
The old woman hesitated.
"…Not impossible," she said slowly.
Yang Luoya's eyes narrowed.
"Unless what?"
"…Unless you win the tournament."
She let out a small sigh, as if recalling something long familiar.
"It's held once every ten years. The winner can request almost anything—as long as it's reasonable and harmless. But most people…" she shook her head softly, "they only wish for marriage… or money."
Yang Luoya's heart skipped faintly.
"When will it be held?"
The old woman gave him a long look.
"You're fortunate, young man. It begins next week."
She paused, then added,
"But it's a two-person team tournament."
Her gaze drifted to the bandages wrapped around his arm… then to the faint bruising beneath Yang Wei's collar.
"I would not recommend participating. You're both still injured."
She stood slowly, her movements unsteady with age.
"I'll prepare something inside."
Before she could take more than a few steps—
Yang Wei gently took her arm.
Without a word, he guided her back into the house.
Yang Luoya remained outside, Alone.
The wind from the sea rushed past him, tugging at his long hair. The vast ocean stretched endlessly before him, its waves glimmering faintly under the afternoon sun.
They were far from home And with no clear path back.
That night—
Yang Luoya sat at the edge of the harbor.
The sea was calm now.
Silver light from the full moon scattered across the water like shattered glass. The world felt still—eerily still—save for the quiet whisper of the wind.
A small weight settled onto his lap.
The kirin, It curled comfortably against him as if it belonged there.
Yang Luoya glanced down, then absentmindedly ran his fingers through its soft hair.
"We need to return quickly…" he murmured.
The kirin tilted its head.
"Are you planning to buy a ship and sail back?"
"That would take at least a year," it added innocently.
Yang Luoya's brows furrowed.
"That's too long."
A quiet tension settled over him.
"The treasure hunt in the magical realm will begin in six months."
The kirin blinked.
"…Why is that important?"
Yang Luoya fell silent.
Then, softly—
"…Because the fate of this world might be decided there."
The wind grew colder, His eyes darkened slightly.
That event… It wasn't just any gathering. It was where he would meet the true protagonist of the story—Qing Shan.
And—
Where the ninth blood candle would be lit. A Level 9 entity. Something capable of shaking the entire world awake.
If he missed that moment—
Everything could change.
Lost in his thoughts—
A warm glow approached from behind.
Lantern light, soft and Gentle. It was Yang Wei.
He walked quietly toward him, carrying a small lantern, and placed it beside them. The faint golden light pushed back the darkness, casting long shadows across the wooden dock.
Then he sat down Close.
"Big brother…" Yang Wei said softly.
"You look troubled."
He shifted slightly closer.
"I'm not a child anymore."
His voice was steady.
"You can share your burdens with me."
Silence lingered between them.
The night wrapped around them like a veil.
Yang Luoya turned his head.
The dim lantern light illuminated Yang Wei's face—sharp, mature, no longer carrying the softness of youth.
Somewhere along the way—
He had grown.
Without realizing it—
Yang Luoya lifted his hand.
His fingers brushed against Yang Wei's cheek. Yang Wei stilled.
Then slowly—
He raised his own hand, gently covering Yang Luoya's.
Holding it there.
As if unwilling to let go. As if he missing that warmth
His hand was larger now.
The space between them felt impossibly small.
The world fell silent.
Only the sound of their breathing remained.
And beneath it—
The steady, unmistakable rhythm of their hearts.
Far away—
Inside the main hall of the Four Peak Sect—
The atmosphere was anything but calm.
"Liu Yong… Yang Luo and Bai Zhi have not returned."
Gao Jun stepped forward, his voice tight with concern.
Around him, the four peak masters stood gathered—each carrying a different kind of tension.
"This situation is already critical," Sun Guang said sharply, slamming his palm against the table. "Yang Wei and Wu Zhen are also missing."
"Xu Yanran has not returned either," Yue Lan added coldly, snapping her fan shut. Her eyes gleamed dangerously. "I will not tolerate anything happening to my disciple."
Shen Ming let out a low breath, setting his cup down with force.
"I trust Jing Lei… but as his master, I cannot say with certainty that he is safe."
The room fell into heavy silence.
Then—
"Enough."
Liu Yong's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"You are the masters of the four peaks. Do not lose your composure."
His gaze swept across them.
"I have already summoned the last person who saw them."
Moments later—
A thin man entered the hall.
His steps were hesitant.
Fear clung to him like a shadow.
"I-it's me…" he stammered, bowing stiffly.
The library keeper.
"The last one to see them," Liu Yong said. "Speak."
The man swallowed.
"T-they… they snuck into the library… into Elder Yan Xiaoluo's private chamber…"
His voice trembled as he recounted everything—
The intrusion.
The punishment.
The forced run around the sect without spiritual power.
"…That was the last time I saw them."
Silence.
Then—
Crash!
Shen Ming hurled his cup, shattering it against the floor in front of the man.
"Are you insane?!" he roared, rising to his feet.
Sun Guang stepped forward, blocking him.
"You sent them outside the sect at a time like this?!" Yue Lan's voice cut in sharply. "When Liu Yong's alarm is still active?!"
Gao Jun's expression darkened.
"What if something attacked them outside…?"
"Enough," Sun Guang said, though anger still burned in his eyes. "What matters now is finding them."
"I have searched the entire Yang Continent with my artifact," Gao Jun said quietly.
"…There is no trace of Yang Luo."
The words struck heavily.
Liu Yong's gaze sharpened.
"…Calm yourselves."
"My artifact still indicates that they are alive."
A pause.
"But their location…"
"…is unknown."
The air turned cold.
"Begin the search immediately," Liu Yong ordered.
"And ensure this matter does not spread."
His voice dropped, low and dangerous.
"The disappearance of the direct disciples of the Four Peaks…"
"…must not become public knowledge."