Xiaochen stumbled deeper into the subterranean gloom, the acrid stench of smoke and blood still clinging to him like a shroud. The metallic echo of pursuing Emissaries faded behind, replaced by the hushed whispers and ragged breaths of the survivors. The raw agony in his side, a constant throb beneath his shredded armour, was a mere distraction compared to the hollow ache in his chest. His fingers remained clamped around the hilt of the black sword, its cold presence a familiar, unsettling comfort.
He found General Liao and Elder Li huddled with the main group, their faces gaunt, illuminated by the flickering glow of hastily lit cultivation lamps. Civilians, their eyes wide with terror, pressed together in silent masses, their bodies shivering despite the caves' oppressive warmth. The wou
