The rain had not yet softened into a steady drizzle; it still fell with the sharp, stinging force of a sky that had not decided whether it wanted to wash the world clean or drown it entirely. Thunder rumbled again, rolling across the forest canopy like a beast shifting in its sleep, shaking leaves loose from branches already heavy with water. Lightning cracked somewhere beyond the treeline, illuminating the soaked ground where three corpses lay sprawled in the mud—each one a silent accusation against the one who had killed them.

  The disciples of the Falling Leaf Sect arrived too late to witness their last breaths. What greeted them instead was the severed head of a three-star master warrior lying beside his body, both washed by the relentless rain until blood and water merged into a single diluted stream that trickled into the roots of the trees. The head looked strangely peaceful, almost as if death had simply plucked it away from the body without warning. But the gash on his neck, still oozing faint red despite the downpour, told a different story—one carved with overwhelming force.

  A few meters away lay the corpse of another inner disciple, a one-star master warrior whose chest was sliced open cleanly, the cut so sharp it almost seemed intentional, as if his killer had wanted to display the precision of the strike. The rain filled the wound slowly, forming a small pool of crimson that the wind soon disturbed. Near him lay the body of a young man from the outer sect, a disciple who had been hailed as the most talented among the low-ranked students. His eyes were still open, staring toward the sky in disbelief at the fate he had never expected.

  Jhanad, clad in dark-green robes soaked from collar to hem, knelt beside the three-star master warrior’s corpse. His expression was unreadable for a long moment, the rage in him quietly swelling rather than erupting. He finally exhaled slowly, placing a hand on his knee as he rose. The rain plastered his long, loose brown hair to his back, and the thunder’s echo made his deep voice even harsher when he spoke.

  “Did you find the elder who was with them?”

  The disciple who had been scouting the surroundings jogged toward him, his boots splashing through the muddy water that reached his ankles. He bowed, shaking his head with fear tightening his face.

  “No, Senior Brother Jhanad. We didn’t find him. I am afraid—”

  Jhanad’s expression darkened instantly, and his voice snapped like a whip. “Do you truly believe they could kill an elder—a five-star grandmaster warrior? Use your brain, fool.”

  The disciple lowered his head, shivering either from rain or fear.

  Before Jhanad could say more, another disciple burst out from between the dripping branches at the forest’s edge. His breathing was ragged, and he held something wrapped in a cloth. “Senior Brother!” he called out, voice rising above the downpour. “We only found the elder’s weapon… and his storage ring.”

  For a moment, everything fell silent except the rain’s persistent drumming on leaves and earth. Even the thunder quieted as if waiting for Jhanad’s reaction. His fingers tightened around his own scabbard, knuckles whitening. For a warrior like him—already a core disciple, already familiar with the cruelty of clashes among sects—he still needed several seconds to accept that a five-star grandmaster of their sect had truly died here.

  When the truth settled, he slowly rose to his full height. The water streaming down his face did nothing to cool the heat burning in his eyes.

  “Spread the order,” he said, voice calm only on the surface. “All inner disciples searching in the forest must be informed immediately. They will find those two no matter what happens.”

  The disciples bowed and scattered, splashing into the misty distance like shadows pulled into the rain.

  Jhanad turned again, watching the ground where faint impressions of two sets of footprints were still visible—half washed away by the downpour, but pointing clearly in one direction. The rain filled them slowly, but not fast enough to obscure the path.

  He raised his hand, pointing toward the dark stretch of forest ahead. “They went this way. Tell everyone, full pursuit. They cannot be far.”

  The disciples rushed into the forest with waves of ki surging behind them, using their movement techniques to leap, flash, and glide between trees despite the slick ground. The lightning above illuminated their forms briefly as they disappeared deeper into the storm.

  …

  Deeper within the vast wilderness, where the forest thickened and the canopy formed a suffocating veil overhead, Anshvi and Eklavya sprinted across the wet earth. Their footsteps splashed in shallow puddles, the mud clinging to their legs as they cut through the undergrowth with desperate speed. Every branch seemed to bend under the weight of rain, and every gust of wind felt like it might tear the leaves from their stems entirely.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Eklavya had already stopped absorbing soul power earlier, just after the battle, but he still hadn’t deactivated his supreme body. Even so, fatigue gnawed at him. The ten-chakra shield didn’t consume much ki, but his actual cultivation realm was still that of a practitioner warrior, and such movement, such strain, and such constant tension left a faint trembling in his limbs. The rain soaked him completely, chilling his skin, but it also kept him awake enough to push forward.

  Anshvi ran ahead, no longer teasing him or chatting as she usually did. Her focus was sharp, narrowed entirely on escaping. Her purple hair, now fully hung loose, flowing heavily as the rain drenched it completely. Strands clung to her face and neck, yet even soaked and disordered, her movements remained graceful, almost ethereal, like someone carved out of moonlight and sharpened by the storm.

  For a brief moment, Eklavya forgot to breathe. He watched her as they ran side by side through the rain, and something inside him shifted quietly. He had always known Anshvi was beautiful; that much had been evident since the day they met. But beauty alone had never persuaded him, never swayed his determination or altered the distance he kept between them. He had rejected her twice, not because he disliked her, but because he could not allow himself to feel something he didn’t understand.

  But now, under the relentless storm, seeing her running beside him with her hair spread out like a dark, flowing veil, her eyes determined yet hiding fear for him—his heart skipped once. Not a gentle flutter, but a hard, unmistakable beat that made his breath falter. A faint warmth crept into his cheeks, quickly erased by the cold rain.

  He shook his head almost violently, forcing himself to look away. “No… I can’t,” he whispered under his breath, burying the feeling as quickly as it surfaced. This was not the time. Not for such emotions. Not when death chased them from every direction.

  Then he sensed it—the surge of ki approaching them from the left. Another wave on the right. Dozens more from the direction they had originally fled. Thunder cracked above them, shaking the air like a warning just as Anshvi skidded to a halt.

  Eklavya stopped beside her. They exchanged a single glance, and in that instant, both understood the same truth.

  There was nowhere left to run.

  Anshvi tightened her grip on Eklavya’s hand. Rain dripped from her lashes as she spoke with a smirk that did little to hide her worry. “Since we can’t escape this way, we will go deeper. No one will chase us there.”

  Without waiting for him to respond, she pulled him upward, her ki lifting both their bodies above the treetops. The rain lashed harder at them now, accompanied by a thunderclap so loud it made the forest tremble. One side of the mountain sloped downward, offering paths that could have been traversed. But the opposite side led into an abyss—a deep valley whose depths were almost invisible even in daylight. Beyond it, another mountain rose like a shadowy giant, surrounded by mist.

  They flew toward the deeper forest, the air becoming colder, the wind sharper as if nature itself was warning them to turn back. Yet Anshvi didn’t hesitate. Her ki flared in violet arcs around her, cutting through the wind with effortless control.

  But their pursuers were faster.

  As soon as they crossed above a cluster of narrow cliffs, the sky around them filled with the aura of master warriors and grandmaster warriors. Several flew after them, using their own movement techniques to rise above the canopy.

  A five-star master warrior appeared directly ahead, blocking their path with a sneer. His ki flared, attempting to suppress them.

  Anshvi didn’t bother speaking. She raised her hand, forming a crescent arc of pure ki that glowed brightly even under the rain. With one swift slash, the ki arc cut through the man’s torso. His body split before he could react, the halves falling toward the forest floor with heavy thuds drowned by thunder.

  Before they could continue, two two-star grandmaster warriors materialized in front of them, their weapons drawn. More ki signatures burst out from behind and from the sides—six additional grandmasters forming a tight ring around them in mid-air.

  The encirclement was complete.

  Jhanad stepped forward slowly, his boots hovering above the air, supported by dense ki. His robe fluttered slightly with the rising wind, and his expression carried a confidence born from knowing he held every advantage. He was, after all, one of the Falling Leaf Sect’s strongest core disciples—a three-star grandmaster and someone trusted by their young master.

  He glanced at Anshvi, then at the boy she held onto. His tone was surprisingly calm. “Girl… hand over the boy. We do not wish to form enmity with a young grandmaster of your talent. Give him to us, and you may walk away unharmed.”

  Anshvi’s grip tightened around Eklavya’s hand, holding him upright in the air as the storm wind whipped her hair around them. She turned toward him, eyes asking for reassurance, for agreement that they would fight through this together.

  But Eklavya’s eyes were closed. He seemed lost in thought, perhaps searching for a solution, perhaps accepting reality.

  As she prepared to reject Jhanad with the unshakable confidence she always showed when Eklavya was in danger, his eyes opened again.

  Then he spoke, voice calm, but with a weight that made Anshvi’s throat tighten instantly. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I will go with you… but you must let her go.”

  Jhanad’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Now you understand. Escape is impossible.”

  Anshvi stared at Eklavya, disbelief and frustration rising in her eyes. “No. You said we would escape together. No matter what.”

  Eklavya’s gaze softened with something she couldn’t fully understand. “But—”

  And the storm continued to rage around them, drowning the world in rain

  and thunder as the moment of decision closed in.