They might be recruits, full of fire and fervor before a mission, but the moment Evil Cultivators appeared, chaos would claim them.

  Lulu Gan knew this all too well. A complete plan for tactical integration already formed in her mind.

  “Captain Lulu Gan, orders received! Reporting to the commander—any further instructions?”

  Fan Yi nodded to Deacon Lan. The two exchanged crisp salutes.

  “I look forward to Thunder Eagle’s triumphant return!”

  As he spoke, Fan Yi’s eyes blazed with intensity.

  For a moment, he saw Feng Yi standing before him years ago—same scene, same fire. Memories flooded back. Only when Lulu raised her voice did he snap from the reverie.

  Lulu led the salute. “Thunder Eagle Team—Watch Legion’s creed!”

  “Endless night, we watch for dawn! Where we stand, blood and bone become beacons!”

  The team saluted as one, roaring the motto.

  Outside the hall, guards heard the stirring cry and straightened instinctively, saluting in unison.

  “Thunder Eagle Team—attention! Form ranks! About face! To the training grounds—double time!”

  At Lulu’s sharp command, the others fell in behind Jun Zhao. Lulu took the rear. They marched out in perfect step.

  “Troops trained by Fei Yuan never disappoint,” Fan Yi said, stirred by their fearless spirit. Tears pricked his eyes. “Our scout regiment breeds no cowards. Every one of them is top-tier. Fei Yuan—I raised him myself. With his family’s inherited techniques, he’ll surpass us both one day.”

  Fan Yi had no doubt. His gaze drifted to the map, lingering on the beast-horn marker of Fei Yuan’s team.

  “When he returns and earns promotion, I’ll personally officiate his wedding to Physician Yue Yang. The Watch Legion could use a grand celebration…”

  “Double time—march!”

  Lulu’s command echoed outside. Thunder Eagle vanished from sight.

  But the sharp staccato of footsteps that followed darkened Fan Yi’s face.

  The Tianjiao Elder appeared at the hall’s entrance. Deacon Lan lowered his head at once.

  “I oppose the marriage of Fei Yuan and Yue Yang. Timo Yang was the Son of Darkness. Yue Yang cannot escape his influence. Keeping her in the legion will only sow discord.”

  “Do you not realize Fei Yuan fights for her alone? Do you understand the consequences of your decision?”

  Fan Yi’s head throbbed at her words, but he voiced his grievance nonetheless.

  “Yue Yang will wed as a princess to the prince of Flareglory Kingdom. I trust the Prophet’s Eye. It cannot be wrong. This is the ancestors’ will.”

  At the mention of the Prophet’s Eye, Fan Yi fell silent, bowing his head.

  The Tianjiao Elder regarded him with cold authority—no trace of warmth. Seeing him quiet, she took the commander’s seat.

  “Deacon Lan, Regiment Commander Yi has labored long. Escort him to rest. I will manage things here for now.”

  Deacon Lan bowed and led Fan Yi away. No matter their private discontent, neither dared defy the Iron Code or challenge an Elder.

  The Tianjiao Elder watched them go with a disdainful smile. She waved a hand. A shadow detached from the darkness.

  “Protect Kai Yi in secret. If Evil Cultivators strike, inform me at once.”

  The shadow bowed and melted away.

  Far away in the forgotten lands, Timo Yang followed close behind Yan Tang, arriving at a cave mouth reeking of fish bones and decay.

  Yan Tang perched high in a tree, staring into the black depths that yawned like an ancient tomb. Instinctive dread gripped him.

  Years ago, fleeing sea demons, he had stumbled here by accident. Any sea demon or spectral soldier that approached perished without fail.

  To escape the Sea of Forgetting, he and his disciple needed more than training-ground drills—they required real combat.

  With Yan Tang’s cultivation restored, low-tier magical beasts no longer dared approach.

  Provoking sea demons outright would only arouse suspicion from the humanoids.

  “Master… maybe a few more years of training?”

  Both Timo and Feiyu sensed the terror. Feiyu’s dorsal fins flattened; gooseflesh rose on Timo’s skin. The question slipped out despite himself.

  “The sea demons of the Sea of Forgetting are far more terrifying than anything in this cave. Without conquering fear—without true battle experience and coordination—we’ll never leave the wreckage zone. Do you wish to give up?”

  At the hurried sand-script, Timo shook his head vigorously, steeling himself. No choice.

  “Master, I’m ready.”

  “The risk is high, but with our current cultivation and tactics, we should manage. I’ll handle defense. Feiyu—scout ahead. Timo, you’re the main striker.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Upside-down on a branch, Feiyu nodded at his name in the script. Caves did not worry him; bright sunlight did.

  At Yan Tang’s signal, he dropped silently to the entrance and vanished into the dark. Timo and Feiyu followed. Feiyu scaled the walls and disappeared ahead, probing the way.

  Yan Tang knew nothing of the creatures within. Scattered sea demon skeletons and beast corpses promised fierce opposition. He lacked certainty of victory, but absolute confidence in retreat.

  “Master—writing!”

  After advancing a distance, Timo spotted clusters of glowing green fruits—cultivated, almost artificial.

  Nearby stones bore carved symbols, faint but unmistakably the work of intelligent hands.

  “Human script. Humans have been here. We may not be the only survivors.”

  The sand-script faded, sparking hope in Timo. “Other human companions?”

  Yan Tang waved dismissively, gesturing caution. “Not necessarily. Could be a mermaid trap.”

  Deeper in, rusted sword fragments lay amid human skulls and sea demon bones—scenes of ancient slaughter, grim even after ages.

  Strange runes lined the walls. At intervals beneath them stood small piles of rounded stones.

  Yan Tang recognized the work of earth essence masters—ancient, masterful excavation far beyond ordinary skill.

  “Master, something’s wrong. These marks look fresh.”

  Timo brushed a carving. His hand knocked over a stone pile; rocks clattered down.

  The sound roused the slumbering master below. Ghostly blue eyes snapped open, fixing on the passage above.

  It raised a hand. Several gaunt figures stirred from sleep, scaling rock pillars upward toward the noise.

  Feiyu clung to one pillar. He felt faint vibrations and scraping. Fins erect, he retreated swiftly.

  The shadows surged into the area—finding nothing.

  One sniffed the scattered stones. “Elder… human scent.”

  The others gathered, inhaling deeply.

  “Living humans… after so many years. Filthy, cunning things. Spread out—search.”

  At the whispered command, the crawling creatures scattered into the dark.

  Before the strange figures emerged, Feiyu slipped back to Yan Tang and Timo Yang.

  Seeing Feiyu tense and point urgently at the towering rock pillars, Yan Tang understood instantly.

  He led them into a narrow crevice. Earth essence gathered; the gap widened just enough for three. Sand and soil coalesced at their feet, forming a thin barrier to conceal the opening.

  Moments later, five tall, gaunt silhouettes appeared among the stone piles.

  They sniffed the air like hounds. At the leader’s command, one lingered while the others dispersed.

  The remaining figure manipulated essence to restack the stones. Between the piles, a pale blue energy field shimmered into existence; the runes glowed faintly.

  In the dim light of the spiritual fruits, the humanoid revealed itself: a human whose bones had warped grotesquely. Elongated limbs resembled failed evolutions of humanoid sea demons, skin etched with scale-like patterns.

  It devoured several green fruits. Its eyes took on a sickly emerald glow. Then it began to patrol like a sentinel.

  As it passed the thin earthen wall, it paused, sensing something amiss. It turned, scrutinizing the rock face. It remembered this spot as a passage deeper in.

  Feiyu caught the scent of danger. Instinctively, his claws extended—scraping stone with a faint screech.

  As the figure drew closer, the ground beneath it shifted. Stone shackles snapped shut around its legs.

  Before it could cry out, a massive arm shot from the darkness and struck it unconscious.

  The shackles pinned it firmly to the floor.

  Timo summoned a soft blue glow of water essence, examining the captive.

  “Master… he looks like us.”

  Beyond the mutations and bluish skin, the face was unmistakably human.

  “Failed mutations, perhaps. Still human. Best we keep our distance…”

  Yan Tang’s sand-script was unfinished when four whooshing sounds announced the others’ return.

  “Cunning beasts—consorting with humans!”

  Timo whirled at the voice. Four pairs of eyes gleamed in the dark, encircling them.

  Yan Tang had already raised earthen barriers around them. As expected—the captive had been bait.

  “We mean no harm,” Timo called. “My master and I are stranded on this forsaken island. We came seeking high-tier magical beasts to advance our cultivation. We thought monsters dwelt here—not living people.”

  The leader scowled and pointed at Feiyu’s bared claws. “Forsaken island? This is the sacred ground of Liancang Capital. What island? Have you allied with these treacherous creatures?”

  “No—please, no misunderstanding. We are brothers bound by life and death. Feiyu is sentient. He’s nothing like those humanoid sea demons.”

  “Brothers? Do you know how many they’ve slaughtered—how they massacred the people of Liancang…”

  The Elder’s rage boiled, but Timo cut in.

  “Wait—what is Liancang? This place is surrounded by sea. Are you lost too? Master—could we leave the Sea of Forgetting with them?”

  Yan Tang remained vigilant. He had never heard of Liancang, never seen such mutated humans. He watched to see how his disciple would handle it.

  “Ignorant humans—never heard of Liancang Capital? It was the heart of the Water Essence Empire!”

  Yan Tang chuckled silently, writing in the sand. The Elder stared blankly; Timo read aloud.

  “My master says he’s never heard of Liancang. The Water Essence Empire fractured long ago. The true capital lies deep in the northern seas.”

  The mutated figures exchanged glances. The Elder burst into bitter laughter.

  They straightened, towering over two meters tall. Light armor of unknown material glimmered with faint blue runes in the dark—something Yan Tang had never encountered.

  “Nonsense. A conspiracy. You invade sacred ground to assassinate the Lord and steal the holy relic?”

  The word sacred only baffled Timo further.

  “This place? It looks nothing like sacred ground. Corpses everywhere—this is a tomb…”

  “Elder, no more talk. They’re enemy spies. Kill them.”

  Before Timo could react, the four rose into the air, three-colored essence swirling around them—visible even through their thin skin as it coursed their veins.

  “They are not spies,” a deep, resonant voice echoed through the cavern. “Bring them deeper. Humans are guests. We are not like those cursed half-sea demon abominations. Remember hospitality.”

  Yan Tang faced four tri-elemental cultivators without undue fear—their bodies showed severe degradation. He prepared for battle just as the voice intervened.

  “Lord, this is too risky,” the Elder protested, bowing low. Then he turned back to Yan Tang’s earthen barrier. “We will trust you—for now. When you arrived… were those filthy creatures still outside? How many remain?”

  Though Timo did not understand the Elder’s certainty about external threats, Yan Tang nodded permission. He answered carefully.

  “When Master and I came, only corpses lay outside. If you mean the Sea of Forgetting—yes, the waters teem with sea demons.”

  The Elder scoffed. In his memory, those vile creatures had breached the capital itself. The sea was a hundred kilometers away—this was inland.

  “Sea? Liancang Capital was far from any ocean. This is the heartland. Lord… how long have we slumbered?”

  The deep voice filled the cavern again, weary.

  “A very long time… too long. If you doubt, go see for yourself. I can scarcely tell dream from reality anymore.”

  As he spoke, the bound captive stirred. Three-colored essence flared; he shattered the stone shackles and lunged, spiritual blade slashing at Timo’s back.

  Timo’s ears twitched. The Blazing Chain Lance flashed into his hand, parrying instinctively.

  Blade met lance with a resonant hum. The weapon vibrated, repelling the strike.

  The attacker leaped back, readying another blow—until the Elder signaled him to stop.

  “Hold! He wields a fire essence weapon. Could reinforcements have come at last?”

  Shock in his voice, the Elder wrapped himself in wind essence and shot toward the entrance.

  Outside, only ancient bones and towering trees remained. Sunlight seared his skin. He darted into shadow, wind essence flaring as he scouted.

  The once-mighty fortress was gone. Battlefield turned forest and black sea. Horror etched his face as he flew back.

  “What year is it now?”

  The tense standoff paused at the question.

  Seeing no immediate hostility, Yan Tang wrote in the sand: “We left Flareglory City in Fire Essence Year 1890, amid war. Even with a new World Lord and calendar change, no more than fifty years could have passed.”

  The Elder peered curiously at the script, uncomprehending. Timo read it aloud.

  The Elder sighed, lost and drained. His earlier fire guttered out entirely.

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