Skyvault Fortress, nestled at the foot of Skyvault Mountain, was now engulfed in flames. Rafters collapsed amid relentless screams, sparks crackled through the air, painting the night a blazing red...
Aunt Evelyn Lan and the Moonvault Palace Sect had just failed to find the Nine Provinces Treasure Map in the fortress and were preparing to withdraw, only for a sudden inferno to erupt and trap them inside.
"We've been set up." Aunt Evelyn Lan felt a chill run through her entire body. She wasn't stupid—if she didn't see through things now, she'd be a fool.
"Damn it, who has the guts to set Skyvault Fortress on fire?" More importantly, they were framing Moonvault Palace Sect as scapegoats, offending two of jianghu’s greatest powers in one move. Whoever did this must have a death wish.
Aunt Evelyn Lan and her Moonvault Palace Sect entourage were trapped inside, but they were still better off than the fortress servants—at least they had a chance to escape.
Tongues of flame shot skyward, sparks crackled loudly, and no one noticed two figures standing not far from Skyvault Fortress—one tall, one small. The firelight flickered across their faces, adding a touch of terror to the scene.
A flash of fire illuminated the smaller figure, revealing a cherubic child—Zed. But the words he spat out were chilling: "You really are useless. You can't even handle a trivial matter."
As the fire dimmed, the child slipped back into shadow, a coldness far beyond his years settling over him. In this world, no child was so old-souled—except Zed.
Beside Zed stood a tall, broad-shouldered youth, his face dark and eyes cold—none other than Ling Mo.
"They have no grudge against me." He didn't want innocent people to die, not after what he'd suffered himself.
"Soft-hearted and weak—that’s why your life is so miserable. It’s just a few lives, nothing more. Dead is dead. Good thing I came in person this time; otherwise, leaving survivors would only invite trouble." Zed’s cherubic face was calm, showing not a hint of guilt.
Although Ninth Royal Uncle and Serena Feng had taught him some notions of right and wrong, Zed didn’t believe killing—innocents or not—was wrong. As long as it helped him survive, what was the harm in killing?
In the jianghu, if you don’t kill, you’ll be killed. As for right and wrong? Only those who survive have the right to talk about it.
Ling Mo said nothing, his throat raw from the smoke. He didn’t want to speak. Zed turned away in disdain; from the bottom of his heart, he couldn’t stand this cousin—older but so much more pathetic.
The two cousins fell silent, watching coldly as Skyvault Fortress was swallowed by flames, the massive structure that had once weighed down Ling Mo collapsing, and the witnesses to his humiliation reduced to ashes.
Ninth Royal Uncle was momentarily stunned when he saw the distant sparks. He hadn’t expected Ling Mo to set Skyvault Fortress ablaze—this wasn’t part of their original plan.
Ninth Royal Uncle didn’t know Zed had arrived; he assumed something had changed unexpectedly. But stuck atop the mountain, he couldn’t get news easily and could only bury his worry.
Skyvault Mountain was high and far from the fortress, and with Ling Mo and Zed deliberately suppressing sparks, even as the fortress burned, nothing drew attention from those on the summit.
Seeing Fortress Lord Ling’s happy face, Ninth Royal Uncle knew he hadn’t received the news and was still clueless that Skyvault Fortress was burning.
Ninth Royal Uncle shook his head with a quiet sigh, lips pressed tight. Sensing someone’s gaze, he turned and saw Prince Damien staring—then Damien silently mouthed the word ‘fire.’
It was a threat, but Ninth Royal Uncle didn’t take Prince Damien’s warning to heart. Tomorrow was the real showdown, and Damien was more anxious than anyone that the Martial Arts Conference might be interrupted.
Damien’s failed intimidation left him uneasy. He felt something slipping out of his control and couldn’t help but wonder: could Ninth Royal Uncle have discovered his plan?
But Damien quickly reassured himself. Even if Nolan knew, so what? Nolan was trapped atop Skyvault Mountain; not even he could fly away.
Relieved, Damien turned his attention elsewhere—just as disaster struck on the stage. The victorious side suddenly went savage, leaping up and smashing an elbow into his defenseless opponent’s chest. The bone snapped, piercing the chest cavity; the man vomited blood and collapsed, unconscious.
Injuries and deaths were not uncommon in these bouts, but no one ever used a killing blow after victory was already decided.
This was deliberate murder.
"What’s going on? Check it out." The two sect leaders whose disciples were fighting looked grim. Anyone who made it to the second day was a top prospect—losing one like this was hard to accept.
"Quick, bring a doctor!" Fortress Lord Ling hurried to take charge. The physician stepped forward, checked the pulse, then shook his head: "The spleen’s ruptured. With these rough conditions on the mountain, I’m afraid it’s hopeless."
"Doctor, you must save him. He’s still so young." The wounded man’s master stepped up, eyes red, staring at the attacker—who only raised his chin arrogantly, unmoved by the master’s fury.
Everyone knew the risks—life and death were agreed upon before stepping onto the stage.
"There’s nothing I can do. Maybe if we were at the foot of the mountain, there’d be hope." The old doctor shook his head and sighed. Serena Feng started to rise, but Ninth Royal Uncle held her back.
This was not the time to stand out.
Serena’s face was troubled, her eyes pleading. She wasn’t some saint who pitied the world, but as a doctor, she couldn’t bear to watch a life that could be saved slip away.
Ninth Royal Uncle kept shaking his head—he wouldn’t let Serena get involved. Damien’s forces had already infiltrated the competition, and the number of deaths and crippling injuries would only rise. Serena couldn’t save everyone.
"But..." Serena was anxious. Her conscience as a doctor wouldn’t let her rest—she still remembered the pledge she made when she first entered the profession: to preserve human life as far as possible, from the moment of conception.
"No buts." Ninth Royal Uncle was firm. Looking up, he saw Damien’s sinister smile and was even more certain this was all part of Damien’s scheme—and that this wouldn’t be the only casualty.
"Take him down the mountain," Fortress Lord Ling ordered, seeing there was no hope.
Moving him would be a death sentence.
Serena couldn’t just sit and watch. She forcefully pulled her hand free, stood up, and quickly told Ninth Royal Uncle, "I’m sorry, I can’t do it," then ran toward the stage, calling out, "Wait!"
Everyone turned to look at Serena. Fortress Lord Ling frowned, "Miss Feng, we’re busy," meaning he had no time to humor a young woman.
"I’m here to help. I’m a doctor—I might be able to save him." Serena’s face was stern, her seriousness making the crowd hesitate to dismiss her. Princess Royal Helena of Westlyn spoke up at just the right moment: "If Miss Feng hadn’t said so, I’d nearly forgotten—her medical skills are extraordinary. Let her take a look at your disciple."
"Thank you for the reminder, Princess." The injured man’s master’s eyes lit up. He quickly bowed to Princess Helena, then turned to Serena: "Please, Miss Feng, take a look at my apprentice."
With a single sentence, Princess Helena had stolen some of Serena’s credit. But Serena didn’t care—saving lives came first. Besides...
Every life she saved today was one more fighter who could stand in Damien’s way when he made his move tomorrow!