Chapter [B5] Prologue
The world had been shaken and only now did it begin to settle.
Weeks had passed; weeks of storms and waves, of winds and clouds, of fire and cold. The skies rent apart to coldness beyond cold, the seas rising and burning. And yet through it all, growth prevailed. Snow fell onto fields of stubborn green, smothering it only to be melted away and reveal yellowed but surviving plants beneath.
And over it all, fully concealing what was once the palace, the branches of the Tree of Life spread out across the sky. Below, its roots formed a cage around the demon lord who’d come to destroy them all, cracks of crimson light visible in every gap between twisting roots.
A constant reminder of the sacrifice it had taken to buy them even this little chance at survival.
He was gone. Lord Jie, the one who had come to their aid again and again, who had been able to stand against the demonic divinities and draw away the asura itself… hadn’t returned.
—
Labby stared at the somber village below. The subdued mood was only natural. How could it be anything else? A month had passed since the heavens changed, and the world still struggled to recover. Five weeks since the day the tree had risen over the castle like a guardian and everyone started whispering that her great master was gone.
Labby didn’t believe it. She knew he was still there, she could feel it. Not like the others—Yan Yun, or Zhang, or Liuxiang, or all the untrustworthy people who didn’t believe in her master enough. They said he’d transcended. Sacrificed himself to hold the demon god at bay, reached Core Shattering and become one with the world, with the cycle of balance that he’d always talked about with such confidence.
But that wasn’t true. She knew it deep in her soul. Whatever her master had done was something very different from anything the world had ever known, and it wasn’t over.
Labby looked toward the distant tree that hovered over the castle, the one thing keeping the demon god from ending them all at once. So many acted as though this were the new state of the world, that all they needed to do was survive the relentless waves of demons from below, as long as they somehow carved out a space they could put things back to how they’d always been.Even so, the Asura’s lesser minions still poured out from the underworld, murdering and wreaking havoc even without the demon divinities. Weaker they may be, but they still vastly outnumbered the defenders and retained enough awareness to be dangerous. Their weapons, however advanced, still took time and resources to create, while the demon armies were endless.
They had to fight them with everything they had. Labby tried to, too. But without her master, everything was different.
Which is why she didn’t understand why they doubted him. It was obvious what was happening. Her master was waiting for the right moment to leave the tree and return. Yes, it had already been a month, but he would be back very soon.
Are you sure? a small voice whispered at the back of her mind.
Labby shoved it away. If she didn’t believe, then who would? There was no way her master would die. Her master was amazing! Nothing could take him down. He was almighty and wise.
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Isn’t it just for your own sanity? the voice pressed. Can you not accept that your master is dead? Is this belief for his sake, or your own selfishness?
She clenched her paws on the rock ledge until tiny sparks crawled between her claws. Her dragon-thunder pulsed in short beats. She kept it steady. The village, now a small city, sprawled under Seventh Peak’s cliffs.
New walls stood bright and clean, layered with copper wire and threaded arrays and watched over by cultivators in their signal towers with lantern-cores and jade nodes. Mortal militia patrols marched in formations they’d drilled every dawn.
The main ward ring hummed, a low vibration she could feel through the stone and into her bones. Someone below laughed, then cut it short as a stretcher went past. ℝᴀ𐌽Ȯ฿Ês
Before Labby could start arguing with herself again, something she’d been doing too often lately, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Zhang approaching, gravity Chi flickering around him even when he tried to keep it gentle. His spear was strapped across his back, its weight muted by his domain seed, yet the metal still tugged at the air. Purple motes drifted and vanished. He watched the sky with that same look he used when he listened to a hundred jade slips at once.
“Sheldon is calling for you, Labby,” Zhang spoke, his expression soft with sympathy. “Are you okay?”
She’d known this was coming, and nodded. “I’m okay. Labby is okay.” She thumped a fist to her chest, confident.
“You’re crying,” Zhang said, more gently still.
Labby touched her cheek and felt tear tracks she hadn’t noticed. Why had she been crying? There was no reason. Her master would be back soon. Even if the bond felt faint, he’d returned from far worse.
And he’d promised to accompany Labby always, hadn’t he? Her master was amazing. He was. He is. He will be.
Zhang stepped closer without crowding her. “Come on. Sheldon’s holding three lines right now, he needs us.”
Labby sniffed once and nodded. She wiped her face with the back of one hand, shook out her long silky head-fur, and let her lightning settle to a low crackle. She took one last look toward the tree over the castle, felt the thin, distant thread that was Master. There, not there, like a breath you can almost taste or a childhood scent just past remembering.
He would still be here when she returned. Maybe he would find her first.
Labby turned away. “I’m coming.” She stepped off the cliff’s ledge and air rushed up to meet her. She spread her arms and rode a short surge of gravity Zhang sent her way so she wouldn’t waste Chi. The wind was cold; winter hadn’t left since the heavens changed, and snow sometimes fell even when the sun glared.
She angled her descent through the guard lattice without touching the lines.
The Seventh Peak had changed. When Master was here, it had felt like a sect. Now it felt like a fortress tied to a hundred villages.
The outer barricades had kill-corridors and minefields. Mortals trained on the southern field, stiff-backed and serious while instructors corrected stances and checked spirit-seal safety on their rifles. A child that wasn’t much bigger than Labby herself lugged a water bucket, slipping and grinning when a militia auntie ruffled his hair. A formation platform clanged as a new plate locked into place. Men and women hammered brackets with calm rhythm. Smoke rose from the mess hall. The scent of broth and bean cakes mixed with forge-smell and the sharp tang of spirit ink.
Labby skimmed the rooftops and set down in the courtyard of her master’s home. Sheldon’s flags marked the doors: sea-blue threads braided with silver, each line carrying a different flow into an underground channel.
The house itself felt wrong without Master’s presence. The wooden beams were the same; his workbench still held stray ingots, a cracked talisman brush with a bite mark she’d left months ago, three empty pill cases, and a pile of notes bound by a strip of cloth. But the air lacked his rhythm. Even the way light fell through the lattice seemed thinner, stretched tight.
He’ll be back soon, she told herself again, like a mantra. He’ll be back.
But when? the small voice asked. And that was the one question Labby couldn’t answer.