Kanzaki remained silent.
Hanya studied his face for a moment, then wisely chose not to press the issue. She had already guessed the reason behind his quiet mood.
Xueyi let out a soft sigh.
Not long ago, the three of them had witnessed Jingliu's pained expression. What Jingliu did not know was that the true source of that pain came from Kanzaki's own deep-seated worry. He feared she would throw herself into battle with the same reckless fervor as those young Cloud Knights—burning bright, refusing to retreat, and ultimately dying a heroic death on the front lines.
Even a Xianzhou general could not guarantee the safety of every Cloud Knight under their command. How could a mere Vanguard hope to do any better? When an enemy of equal or greater strength appeared, both general and Vanguard had no choice but to step forward and fight. Tactical adjustments on the field could only be left to the accompanying Strategist.
The battlefield was merciless. No one was invincible. Any life could be snuffed out in the very next second.
As a master, how could he let his disciple see his own powerlessness?
No one in the entire Expeditionary Force would ever call him incompetent. Yet only a commander truly understood the torment of watching the vibrant lives under his care vanish one by one.
Over thousands of years, why did those Cloud Knights who rose to higher positions succumb to mara-struck corruption faster as they aged? Because they had witnessed far too much death and carried far too much loss.
Lord Kanzaki, you have already done more than enough…
Xueyi and Hanya wanted desperately to say those words aloud. But they knew they could not. They had no right to speak them.
The entire Expeditionary Force believed he had fulfilled every duty placed upon him. Kanzaki himself did not believe it—and never could.
Xueyi understood. Hanya understood as well.
After all, they were both survivors of the Cangcheng tragedy. They had watched countless lives end before their eyes. How could they possibly remain indifferent to the sacrifice of their comrades?
The reason for returning to the Cloud Knights' main base was to hold a strategic meeting concerning the upcoming campaign against Ussa along the Path of The Hunt, and to deliver a full report on the details of the previous battle.
The people of The Hunt would never forget their vengeance.
Night was slowly giving way to dawn.
Jingliu finally reached her limit. After taking another devastating blow, her vision blurred and her body refused to stay upright any longer. She staggered forward a single step before collapsing with a heavy thud.
Right before darkness swallowed her, a pair of calm eyes appeared in her fading sight. Something complex flickered within them… but Jingliu had no time to make sense of it. The black tide claimed her completely.
Simulated stars glittered across the artificial night sky, their gentle light falling on the young girl's face. Her brows remained tightly furrowed, still etched with suppressed pain.
Kanzaki stepped forward without a word, scooped her up with care, and carried her toward the rest area. A sigh so faint it was almost inaudible slipped from his lips.
He pulled up the training records from the Training Grounds and stared at them in silence for a long time before finally closing the light screen.
He knew Jingliu was progressing at an astonishing rate. Even if Hanya and Xueyi sparred with her now, neither could guarantee victory. Yet against the far more powerful enemies that could strike from any direction at any moment—enemies capable of piercing her throat before she could react—her current strength was still nowhere near enough.
Ever since the tragedy of Cangcheng and the death of his mother, Kanzaki had believed there was nothing left in this world he could not afford to lose. No price he could not pay.
But now… he had someone he cared about.
He had sworn to make sure Jingliu survived. To let her live, even on the most brutal battlefields.
After returning home and entrusting her to Xueyi's care, Kanzaki immediately sealed himself inside his private laboratory. He locked the door, stepped into the hidden chamber, swallowed a specially developed pill, and activated the device.
Four razor-sharp iron chains shot out from front and back, piercing straight through his body and sealing the meridians around his vital organs. At the same moment, dozens of silver needles followed, driving precisely into the key acupoints across his entire frame.
Kanzaki slammed his right hand against his forehead. His face twisted in agony as he fought to suppress the overwhelming pain.
If he had not seen Jingliu in time—if she had not soothed the rationality that was teetering on the edge of violent collapse—perhaps…
For centuries he had endured loss after loss: comrades-in-arms, his homeland, and finally even his own family. Now only Jingliu remained—his adopted disciple.
If he lost her too…
Kanzaki knew he was steadily sliding toward the extreme, yet he could not fully control it. The fire of hatred burning in his heart had never once been extinguished. Still, it brought him no peace.
He needed power. As a child of The Hunt, however, that power was forbidden to him. He had already touched a taboo he should never have approached.
The mara-struck state was the destined fate of the Xianzhou's long-life species.
If fate demanded he abandon certain things in this life in exchange for the strength he craved, then there was only one path left.
He had to walk it.
The flame inside him had not yet reached the moment it could be allowed to die. He refused to let it go out.
"Shuhu… I will kill you… I swear it…"
But first, Ussa had to die—by his own hand.
Kanzaki's fingers dug hard into his own face, as though he could physically tear out the madness trying to overwrite his reason. Slowly, the medicine and the device began to take effect. The frenzied light in his eyes gradually faded.
He tilted his head, staring at the large, sharp apparatus nearby. A look of plunder mixed with a different kind of madness surfaced on his features.
Morning light filtered in.
Jingliu stirred awake, her eyes opening to a snow-white ceiling.
Then the pain hit—every bone in her body felt as if it had been taken apart and put back together wrong. Every muscle screamed in protest.
She instinctively tried to sit up, only for a sharp lance of agony to shoot through her spine. She gasped.
Memories of the previous day flooded back.
Her master's utterly calm eyes. Those cold, harsh words… They had cut deeper than any blow from a metal automaton ever could.
There was no reassuring figure beside her bed. Only a white jade bottle resting on the bedside table, weighted down by a small note.
A spark of hope flashed in Jingliu's eyes. She reached for the note eagerly.
The instant she recognized the handwriting, that spark died, replaced by a heavy wave of disappointment.
It was the Rescue and Revival Pill left for her by Senior Xueyi. The medicine would speed up wound healing and ease the pain of recovery.
Master would no longer look after her the way he once had.
From now on, the consequences of high-intensity training would be hers alone to bear… So typical of his style.
"Survive fifty medium-scale battles…"
"Master… your disciple will do it. In return, Master must also wait patiently for your disciple…"
Jingliu swallowed the pill, lay back down, and let a faint, unconsciously fragile smile curve the corner of her mouth.
We… must not break our promise…