The forest parted at last.
Dawnmist Peak rose before them, framed in the early morning light. The air tasted of pine and cold stone, and for a moment, it felt like nothing in the world could touch them here.
Wushen took a deep breath, his battered flute strapped across his back, the broken music box tucked into his pack. The weight of it was more than physical—it was the echo of everything they'd risked to bring it home.
Beside him, Bai's expression was calm but alert, her blade sheathed but never far from her hand. Yiran's eyes were soft, but focused, scanning every tree and slope as they climbed.
At the top of the first ridge, they paused.
Yiran turned, studying them both.
"We're not just returning," she said. "We're changing the shape of the Peak itself. What we bring back is more than a song—it's a challenge."
Bai met her gaze. "Good. The Peak needs a challenge."
Wushen looked between them, then nodded.
And they walked the last stretch together.
The outer wards of Dawnmist Peak shimmered faintly as they approached—silent sentinels woven by Luo Feng's hand. As they passed through the boundary, a warmth spread through Wushen's chest—a welcome that had nothing to do with the system, and everything to do with the quiet trust of the mountain.
Kaelen waited at the steps, her saber resting across her knees. She didn't smile as they approached—she rarely did—but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes.
"You're back," she said simply.
Yiran inclined her head. "No complications. No tail."
Kaelen nodded, standing smoothly. "Luo Feng is waiting at the courtyard."
She paused, her gaze flicking to Wushen.
"And… he knows."
The courtyard was quiet, the morning mist just beginning to lift. Luo Feng stood at the center, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes half-closed as he listened to the mountain's heartbeat.
When the three of them stepped onto the stones, he opened his eyes.
Wushen bowed low. "Master."
Luo Feng studied them.
Battered robes. Tired eyes. But alive.
More than alive—changed.
He nodded once.
"Report," he said.
They did.
Yiran spoke first, outlining their escape and the first skirmish in the vault. Bai followed, describing the Echo Wardens and their tactics. And finally, Wushen stepped forward, unwrapping the broken music box.
"The second verse," he said. "I have it."
Luo Feng took the box from him, holding it lightly as if it were both weapon and relic.
"It's incomplete," he said quietly. "But it's more than they wanted you to find."
He set it on the low stone table beside him.
"And the Ashen Gate?"
Wushen hesitated.
"It's not just a name," he said. "It's a place. A… scar. Xuan's message said it was where the Mentor broke."
Luo Feng's eyes narrowed.
And he nodded.
Ding! System Advisory: "Ashen Gate" recognized as Legacy Node – Tier 5.Host Preparedness: 82%.System Warning: Contact with the Ashen Gate may unlock "Origin Fragment – Mentor's Requiem."
Note: Consequences will be… irreversible.
Bai watched Luo Feng closely.
"You know it, don't you?" she said.
"I do," he replied. "It's older than the Sect's laws. Older than the system itself. It's where the first Mentor tried to teach something that couldn't be taught."
Yiran's brows furrowed. "What was it?"
Luo Feng looked at them—each of them.
"Freedom," he said softly.
Wushen's breath caught.
The quiet deepened.
Then Kaelen's voice cut through it.
"There's something else," she said. "A visitor came while you were gone."
Bai's eyes sharpened. "Who?"
Kaelen hesitated.
And Luo Feng answered.
"Elder Zhi Meiling."
Wushen flinched. "She's… she's from the Listening Court."
"Yes," Luo Feng said. "She offered a contract. A leash wrapped in silk. I burned it."
Yiran's expression was calm. "So they'll come openly now."
"They already have," Kaelen said.
She gestured to the edge of the courtyard.
There, standing just beyond the wards, was a single figure in silver-trimmed robes.
A man with a calm face and a voice that could cut through steel.
"Greetings, Dawnmist Peak," he called, his tone polite.
"I am Elder Ren of the Disciplinary Council."
Wushen's blood went cold.
Elder Ren—the man whose name was whispered as the Sect's hidden knife. The one sent not to destroy, but to bind.
Luo Feng stepped forward, his posture loose but his eyes like cold fire.
"State your business," he said.
Ren smiled faintly.
"To observe," he said simply. "Your disciples have… attracted attention. The Council would like to ensure their talents are used for the greater good."
Bai's hand twitched toward her blade.
Yiran spoke quietly, her voice low. "And if we refuse?"
Ren's smile never wavered.
"Refusal is not an option. But negotiation is."
Ding! Threat Evaluation: Elder Ren – Spiritual Pressure Rank: 4.System Tier Match: Host (83%).Danger: High if direct conflict initiated.
Luo Feng met Ren's gaze.
"Observation implies distance," he said. "You are standing on my Peak."
Ren inclined his head. "Merely a courtesy visit."
He stepped back half a pace.
"But understand—should your disciples act against the Sect's interests, I will act against them."
Luo Feng's expression didn't change.
But the air around him seemed to tighten, like a bowstring drawn to its limit.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Ren offered a small bow.
"Enjoy your morning," he said.
And he turned, vanishing down the mountain path like a shadow swallowed by dawn.
When he was gone, Yiran exhaled softly.
"He didn't come to talk," she said. "He came to… measure us."
Bai sheathed her blade. "Let him. If he underestimates us, he'll regret it."
Wushen said nothing.
He was still staring at the broken music box, the faint hum of Verse II still echoing in his chest.
Luo Feng stepped up to him.
"You're afraid," he said softly.
Wushen swallowed. "Not for myself. For all of us."
Luo Feng rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Then you're learning," he said. "Fear doesn't make you weaker—it makes you precise."
He looked around at them.
"All of you—rest. Eat. We start formation training at noon. Because if the Council wants to measure our strength… we will show them not fear, but harmony."
That night, as the mountain slept, Luo Feng walked the outer ring of the Peak alone.
In the darkness, he stopped at the oldest pine—a tree that had watched over Dawnmist for generations.
He placed a hand on the trunk.
And whispered:
"The Ashen Gate… it's time."