The days following his encounter with Seris had left Kael on edge. There was something unsettling about her—something more dangerous than what appeared on the surface. While she had given him a taste of advice, he knew it came with strings attached. Seris wasn't someone who offered help without expecting something in return. The games she played were far from transparent, and Kael couldn't afford to be anyone's pawn.
As the sun set behind the towering peaks of the sect's fortress, Kael found himself in the training yard once again, facing off against a new opponent. Word of his recent victories had spread throughout the sect, and it wasn't long before challenges began pouring in from disciples hoping to prove themselves against him.
But today, it wasn't just any disciple who stood before him—it was Lian, one of the sect's most promising Inner Court members, known for his speed and precision. His movements were like the wind, quick and deadly. He had always been a rising star in the sect, and Kael had heard whispers of his ambition. Lian had earned the respect of many, but now, Kael was about to test whether his respect was earned through true strength or just clever manipulation.
Lian stood at the center of the arena, his gaze fixed on Kael with a hint of arrogance. His eyes were cold, calculating, but there was also something else—a flicker of anxiety beneath his confident exterior.
"You've been making waves, Kael," Lian said, his voice smooth but laced with a challenge. "I heard you've been quite the thorn in the side of the Inner Court. I'm here to see if your strength matches your reputation."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "I didn't come here to impress anyone. I came to train."
Lian smirked, drawing a slender, curved blade from his waist. The weapon was light but deadly, designed for speed rather than power. It reflected the dim light of the setting sun as he held it casually in his hand.
"I'll make sure you don't walk away with that same attitude," Lian said, his stance shifting into a battle-ready position.
Kael's fingers twitched at the hilt of his own sword. His stance was calm, almost relaxed, but beneath the surface, he was fully alert. Every battle was a chance to learn, a chance to test his limits and refine his abilities.
The fight began without warning. Lian moved like a flash of lightning, his blade cutting through the air with impossible speed. Kael barely had time to react as the first strike came at him from the left, but his reflexes were sharper now. With a fluid motion, he deflected the blow, sending the blade skidding off his own weapon. Lian was relentless, attacking again and again, his strikes coming faster and faster, a blur of motion designed to overwhelm.
But Kael wasn't easily thrown off. His own blade was heavy, designed for power, but he used it with surprising grace. Every strike he made was calculated, every step deliberate. He could feel the pressure building, the weight of the fight pushing against him, but he refused to be caught off guard.
Lian's strikes grew more frantic as Kael's defense held strong. With each failed attempt, the younger disciple's frustration mounted. He was quick, but his technique was erratic, driven more by anger than discipline. And that, Kael knew, would be his downfall.
Kael saw an opening—a small shift in Lian's footing as he lunged forward with a particularly aggressive strike. Kael sidestepped just as the blade sliced through the air where he had been a moment earlier. In a single, swift motion, he brought his own sword up, knocking Lian's weapon from his hand and sending it spinning through the air.
The arena fell silent as Lian stood there, weaponless and breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. Kael stood calmly in front of him, his sword still poised in a defensive position. The challenge had been met—and won.
Lian's eyes burned with frustration, but there was no malice in Kael's gaze. He wasn't here to humiliate him. He was here to learn and grow stronger, and that meant accepting defeat just as gracefully as victory.
"You're good, Kael," Lian said after a long moment, his voice tinged with respect. "I've underestimated you. You're not just a brute force. You've got finesse. I'll give you that."
Kael lowered his sword, nodding briefly. "Thank you."
Lian hesitated for a moment, then took a step closer. "There's something you need to know about the sect, Kael. There are whispers. People are talking about you—not just because of your victories, but because of your… potential. You're making waves, and not everyone likes it."
Kael's eyes sharpened. "Who's talking?"
Lian glanced around cautiously before lowering his voice. "The Crimson Circle. They're watching you. They know what you're capable of, and they won't let someone like you rise unchecked. They'll do whatever it takes to bring you down."
Kael's pulse quickened. The Crimson Circle had now become more than just a name in the shadows—it was a real threat. A force he would have to face, whether he wanted to or not. But for now, he kept his expression neutral.
"I'm not afraid of them," Kael said firmly.
Lian seemed to study him for a long moment, as though weighing the sincerity of his words. "I'm not saying you should be. I'm saying you need to be careful. The Crimson Circle has allies everywhere, and they don't play by the same rules you're used to."
Before Kael could respond, Lian turned and began to walk away, his steps slow but purposeful. "Think on it, Kael. And remember—don't trust anyone here. Not even me."
Kael watched as Lian disappeared into the shadows, his mind racing with the implications of what had just been revealed. The Crimson Circle was more than just a rumor now—it was a real and present danger. And they had already set their sights on him.
As the day turned to night, Kael retreated to his quarters, his thoughts consumed by the warning Lian had given him. He couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. The danger was closing in on all sides, and every ally he had—every person he thought he could trust—could be a potential enemy.
Lira was waiting for him when he arrived, her expression unreadable. She had heard the news of his victory, but her gaze seemed distant, as though she were caught in a storm of her own thoughts.
"Kael," she said softly. "The Crimson Circle… They know about you, don't they?"
Kael nodded grimly. "Yes. They do. And now, they'll be watching me even more closely."
Lira's eyes darkened. "You're not safe here. Not anymore."
Kael met her gaze, determination filling his chest. "I won't run, Lira. I'm not afraid of them."
"I know you're not," she replied, her voice steady but filled with a trace of worry. "But sometimes, fear isn't enough to keep you safe."
The wind was cold atop the mountain ledge where Kael stood, his robes rustling softly in the breeze. From here, he could see the vast sprawl of the sect's inner sanctum: towering pagodas, shimmering cultivation fields, and hidden courtyards. It was beautiful, yet beneath the serene surface, darkness stirred—an invisible hand tightening its grip.
Kael's heart beat steadily. Lian's warning echoed in his ears, and Lira's concern clung to him like a shadow. He knew now that strength alone wouldn't be enough. If he wanted to survive—and protect those around him—he needed more than skill. He needed allies. But in a place where secrets were currency and trust could be fatal, that was easier said than done.
He returned to his residence quietly. The room was dim, lit only by a single lantern. Lira was already there, seated by the window again, her long hair loose around her shoulders. She didn't look at him as he entered.
"I need your help," Kael said without preamble.
Lira finally turned, her gaze sharp. "Help with what?"
"Finding others like me. Those not tied to the Crimson Circle. Disciples who can be trusted. If I'm going to challenge them, I can't do it alone."
Lira was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. "There are a few. But Kael… some of them are more broken than strong. Others have already drawn Crimson attention. If you gather them, you'll be lighting a fire in the dark."
Kael's voice was firm. "Let it burn."
That night, they moved quietly through the sect grounds, visiting small rooms, silent courtyards, secret gathering spots. Lira knew where to go. One by one, they found them—disciples who had lost family members to "accidents," who had been demoted mysteriously, who bore quiet resentment in their eyes.
The first was Taren, a quiet, silver-haired alchemist whose sister had disappeared after joining the Crimson Circle. He didn't speak much, but when Kael explained what he was building, Taren only nodded and said, "Tell me who to burn."
The second was Jia, a fierce, one-eyed girl from the outer territories. She had been ostracized after refusing a Crimson-sponsored elder's 'invitation.' Kael found her meditating beside a waterfall at night, the blade across her lap sharper than her tongue. She agreed to join after one question: "Will I get to kill them?"
The third was a surprise—Seris.
She found him, appearing uninvited in his courtyard while the others were away.
"You're building something," she said as she leaned against a wooden post. "A fire. You'll need someone who can walk through flames."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "You're still tied to them."
Her lips curled slightly. "Tied, yes. Loyal? Not quite. I owe them nothing, Kael. But I find your defiance… interesting. And if you're serious about challenging them, I want in."
Kael hesitated. Could he trust her?
Seris seemed to sense the doubt. "You don't have to trust me. Just make sure you keep an eye on me. I'm too dangerous to ignore."
And so the core of the resistance was formed—Kael, Lira, Taren, Jia, and Seris.
It was not an army. Not yet. But it was a beginning.
That same night, Kael stood again on the ledge. The stars above shimmered like ancient spirits watching in silence. He felt the stirrings of change, of war, in the wind. The Crimson Circle would not wait. They would strike, and soon.
But he would be ready.
He had chosen his path.
And he would walk it—through blood, through betrayal, through fire.