Chapter 14: Sect’s Secret

Wei Ren's footsteps slowly vanished into the damp fog. For a moment, Bai Lin half-turned — his eyes met Yanzhi's, and a flicker of guilt hid behind his lowered lashes. But he didn't say anything. He just dropped his gaze and followed Wei Ren's path.

Once their shadows disappeared, Han Ye let out a long breath, his eyes still locked on the dark corridor ahead.

"Damn it. He'll run his mouth about this for sure," he muttered under his breath. He turned to Yanzhi. "Pack up the rest of the Jade. We need to find a way out before this mist seals every exit."

Yanzhi only nodded once, sharp and silent. His fingers squeezed the fragment hidden inside his sleeve — cold and heat pulsed through it, biting and tingling under his skin.

In his head, the Spirit hissed, voice dripping like poison.

"Good. Leave this rotten valley behind. Out there, this stench you've stirred up will spread. Let the old prison crack open, little by little."

Yanzhi pretended not to hear. He drew in a steady breath, eyes flicking over the symbols carved into the walls. The crack in the altar had sealed itself again, buried under rubble — waiting for its master to return some other day.

They stepped out of the corridor. The black mist slithered through gaps in the stone, making the ground slick and treacherous. In the distance, faint torchlight shimmered — silhouettes of other disciples moved slowly, clinging to each other so they wouldn't get lost in the haze.

At the fork in the path, Han Ye raised a hand, pointing toward a half-collapsed stone pillar.

"That way. Mei Jiu and the others might be holding out in the eastern passage. We regroup, then get out."

Yanzhi nodded again. His throat felt dry and raw, the taste of scorched Jade and seal aura still lingering in his chest.

Hours later, the small group finally emerged through a jagged crack at the edge of the valley. The mist there was thin, revealing flickers of torchlight further down the slope. At the base of the cliff, a few disciples were waiting. One stood slightly apart — long black robes draped over broad shoulders, the sect's insignia resting on his chest.

Lu Ming. The senior who oversaw their team.

He stood firm beside a pile of rough Jade — the harvest from the day's hunt. His eyes were sharp as blades, scanning each disciple who emerged from the mist. When Han Ye and Yanzhi stepped down, Lu Ming lifted his gaze — the sharp look settling on Yanzhi's pale face.

"You're late." His voice was flat but heavy with pressure. "Where's Mei Jiu?"

Han Ye replied at once. "Behind us. Guiding a few stragglers."

Lu Ming let out a quiet grunt. His eyes lingered on Yanzhi for a heartbeat longer — as if catching a trace of something strange — but he didn't press. Instead, he scratched a name onto the scroll in his hand.

Off to the side, Wei Ren pretended to brush dust off Bai Lin's shoulder. For an instant, his eyes met Yanzhi's again — a small smirk tugged at his lips, an arched brow saying I'll bring this secret home.

The Spirit in Yanzhi's head gave a soft, raspy laugh.

"Good. Let him talk. You only have to keep your mouth shut… and wait for the next door to open."

Yanzhi let out a quiet snort, whispering back inside his mind,

"When that door opens, you're the first thing I'll throw in."

The Spirit just laughed — a hiss that slithered on and on.

The valley was left behind.

But the door to hell had already been knocked on.

---

A sharp, cold wind snaked through the gaps between the white stone beams. The Main Hall of the Tianhan Sect stood silent and imposing, its marble floor reflecting the blue glow of hanging lanterns. From the high ceiling, slender pillars of ice dangled, faintly glimmering like frozen spears.

At the front, Elder Fan sat tall on a long bench carved with snow patterns. His robes were pristine — pale blue and white — with the Tianhan crest etched on his chest. His eyes were thin, sharp as a blade, scanning each disciple kneeling below him.

The bamboo ledger rod in his hand creaked softly as he turned it.

"Jade. State your names. Report your yield."

His voice was flat, almost bored. A disciple ahead of Yanzhi bowed quickly, handing over a cloth pouch of Jade. Off to the side, Lu Ming stood watch, every so often noting down names on a rolled bamboo scroll.

Yanzhi was at the back of the line. Han Ye stood beside him, shoulders stiff. Not far away, Wei Ren loitered with that sly smile still tugging at his mouth, head tilted just enough to keep Yanzhi in the corner of his eye — like a snake waiting to strike when it hurt most.

Hidden inside his sleeve, Yanzhi felt the fragment pulsing — the sealed piece burning like a hot ember pressed to bone.

The voice in his mind hissed lazily.

"Look at this mighty sect, trembling over a bit of rotten mist."

Yanzhi lowered his head slightly, his eyes sharpening. "If you're going to be here, shut up at least." But the spirit only chuckled, slithering deeper, an itch at the base of his neck.

Han Ye stepped forward first. He gave a low bow and laid a rough pouch of Black Mist Jade on the stone table beside Elder Fan's seat.

"Yield from the East team. Three pouches of Black Mist Jade, eight of Mist Jade."

Lu Ming marked it down. Elder Fan barely nodded, his eyes fixed on Han Ye like they might slice him open for answers.

"And the report on the valley route?"

Han Ye paused, just for a heartbeat. A vein twitched in his neck. Yanzhi glanced at him sideways.

In his skull, the spirit's whisper dripped like poison.

"Watch closely. One slip, and you're both dead meat."

Wei Ren stepped in, just half a pace closer, then cleared his throat in a show of fake humility. He gave Elder Fan a deep, careful bow.

"Permission to add, Elder. The East trail yesterday… turned out to be rather dangerous."

He shot Yanzhi a look — sharp, gloating — his smile like a nail waiting for soft flesh.

---

Elder Fan raised one thin eyebrow.

"Wei Ren?"

Wei Ren bowed politely, voice dripping with concern.

"This disciple was only worried, Elder. A few of us nearly got lost down in the valley. The mist was strange… I even found one disciple — Bai Lin — who'd wandered off far from the team. Luckily I brought him back. And I heard… there was a cracked piece of Black Mist Jade along an old trail."

Behind him, Bai Lin bowed deeper, shoulders stiff, fingers clutching the hilt of his sword at his hip.

Yanzhi clenched his fist inside his sleeve, jaw tight. If this rat opens his mouth any wider, I'll rip his tongue out.

Wei Ren risked a side glance at Elder Fan, his voice dropping like a humble whisper.

"I only wish to report, Elder… the valley mist might have damaged some old seals. Perhaps it's worth inspecting… before any disciple gets hurt."

Elder Fan narrowed his eyes, gaze slicing over to Han Ye.

"You. Responsible for the Eastern route. Anything you'd like to add?"

Han Ye looked straight ahead, tone cold as stone.

"That mist appeared out of nowhere. It wasn't on our original map. We handled it as instructed. We brought back the Jade. No one died."

Wei Ren hid a grin behind a polite mask, his eyes glinting with poison.

"Rat…" the spirit in Yanzhi's head hissed.

"One word about the altar, and you're finished."

Yanzhi's lips twitched in a faint sneer, his thoughts a quiet threat. Go on, then. If it cracks open, you're going down with me.

---

Elder Fan tapped the stone table — tok tok tok — soft, but each tap landed like ice.

"Black Mist Jade. That's exactly why you were sent to the Dark Mist Valley. It's poison and seal stone in one. Tianhan needs it — that's clear enough."

He paused. His sharp stare drifted from Han Ye to Yanzhi, pinning them both like insects under glass.

"But your little rumor about a broken seal — that's a different problem."

Behind Elder Fan, a few instructors exchanged stiff glances. His voice dropped lower, like a blade pressing against a throat.

"The Eastern tunnels are old. But the prison buried beneath them should've stayed dead since the sect wars fifty years ago. If it's cracked open again…" He narrowed his eyes. "Who opened it?"

Yanzhi's fingers dug into his sleeve, feeling the heat of the hidden fragment burning against his skin. He was about to speak — but Han Ye stepped forward first.

"It wasn't us who broke it," Han Ye said flatly. "We followed the mining trail. The poison mist swallowed the path. We got trapped under the old seal's rubble."

In the back, Wei Ren's mouth curved into a sly grin.

"But they did light that old altar. I saw it myself."

A few instructors muttered under their breath — the air turned heavy, sharp as frost. Elder Fan lifted his hand to silence the room.

"Enough. You may keep your Black Mist Jade. But who owns the rest of this mess? If that old prison under the valley wakes up again — are you ready to pay for it?"

Silence. Yanzhi dropped his eyes, ignoring the spirit's wicked chuckle in his skull — 'Good. More ears hearing means more cracks forming.'

Elder Fan leaned back, his cold eyes flicking between Han Ye and Yanzhi.

"Keep your mouths shut. If either of you dares let this leak to an outside sect — you won't just shame Tianhan. I'll bury you myself at the bottom of that valley."

---

The air in the hall grew heavier. Elder Fan's sharp gaze cut through the silence, his fingers drumming coldly on the stone table.

"Lu Ming," he said, voice low but iron. "You're in charge of the Eastern Route team. Take a few disciples. Seal off the remaining tunnels in that valley. Make sure no one else gets hurt."

Lu Ming bowed, but his shoulders tensed slightly.

"Elder… permission to speak. Han Ye and Yanzhi are the core disciples for the Eastern Route. But if there's still poison mist and broken seals down there… I worry for their safety—"

Elder Fan turned his head just enough to meet Lu Ming's eyes, his stare like frost.

"You doubt your own disciples, Lu Ming?"

Lu Ming quickly lowered his head deeper. His voice dropped, but he still tried to stand his ground.

"Not doubt, Elder. I only mean… perhaps let other disciples clear the debris. Let these two rest and recover—"

Tok tok tok. Elder Fan tapped the table again — each knock sharp as a blade.

"There's no time for rest. They saw it with their own eyes. They'll keep their mouths shut, and they'll handle it themselves. Or would you rather go down there alone, Lu Ming?"

Silence swept through the room.

Lu Ming froze, then his shoulders slowly slumped.

"… Understood, Elder."

In Yanzhi's head, the spirit laughed lazily.

"See that? Does he really care about you? Your precious sect? The second danger comes, they're ready to push you straight off the cliff."

Yanzhi clicked his tongue under his breath, his tone dry.

"If I sink, you're sinking with me. So shut up and save your wisdom."

The spirit only chuckled, voice curling like smoke.

"Try drowning me, if you can."

Outside the hall, a cold wind whispered through the white pillars. And deep inside Yanzhi's chest, the hidden crack kept spreading.