Kael's silver eyes scanned the horizon, his senses sharp, attuned to the subtle shifts in the mountain's qi. His body ached from battles past—the gash on his ribs, the bruise on his shoulder—but the Lotus Flame steadied his meridians, sealing the pain with threads of purified qi.
A faint rustle broke the silence, not wind but movement. Kael ducked behind a gnarled tree, its roots curling like frozen serpents. His Silent Eclipse Dao flared, cloaking his aura in shadow, his breath barely a whisper.
Three figures darted through the mist above, their grey robes blending with the twilight, their qi sharp and refined—early Soul Flame Realm, their movements swift but not masterful.
They vanished toward the mountain's base, their purpose unclear but their presence a threat. Kael waited, his hand resting on Abyssal Fang's hilt, until their auras faded into the distance.
