The world exploded in silver.

  It wasn’t movement like he understood it. One moment, Old Nan was a frail old woman leaning on a cane; the next, she was a blur, a flicker of motion so fast his eyes registered only the afterimage. A blinding flash of silvery Qi erupted from her outstretched palm, striking something in front of Elder Gui. Jiang saw a translucent green shield, like jade, appear and instantly shatter, a spiderweb of cracks spreading across its surface before a hole punched clean through the centre. It winked out of existence.

  Then came the sound. Not just the crack of the shield, but something deeper, a low, bone-jarring thrum like the world itself had fractured. Elder Gui vanished, blasted backward through the wall of the nearest building with a sound like a mountain collapsing. Jiang saw another, fainter flash of green light around the Elder just before he disappeared into the dust and debris, accompanied by that same deep, wrong-feeling shatter.

  Jiang swallowed. He wasn’t sure if the trembling in his hands was from fear or the shockwave.

  Old Nan grunted, shaking her wrist as if to loosen it. Then she turned her gaze to the Ironwood disciples still ringed around them.

  “Now then,” she said, voice almost conversational.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then ghostly shapes flickered into being beside each disciple – half-translucent wolves, eyes burning with the same silver light that had hurled the elder away.

  The disciples barely had time to raise their weapons before the wolves were among them. It wasn’t a fight. It was a slaughter. Snapping jaws tore through leather and flesh, spectral claws ripped throats open. The screams were cut short, replaced by the wet, tearing sounds of carnage. Within moments, it was over. The wolves faded back into the ambient gloom, leaving only mangled corpses behind.

  Old Nan turned again, her gaze fixing on Mistress Bai and Li Xuan, who stood frozen on the rooftops, their faces masks of shock and dawning horror.

  He reacted on instinct, stepping forward, placing himself between Old Nan and the two cultivators. “Wait! They’re allies. They’re helping me.”

  Old Nan’s eyes narrowed, focusing on Li Xuan. “A Sect pup,” she rasped, her voice thick with ancient hatred. “Leaving one alive is like leaving a viper in your bedroll. They always bite eventually.”

  Li Xuan was holding himself very still.

  “He agreed to help me find my family,” Jiang insisted, holding her gaze. “He gave his word.”

  She stared at him for a long, tense moment, then grunted, seemingly letting it go. Her attention shifted to Mistress Bai, studying her for a long moment. Then she smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant expression. “I intend to kill this one,” she said mildly. “Unless you tell me not to.”

  Jiang blinked. “What?”

  Old Nan tilted her head, her aura shifting, condensing around her palm. A sphere of pale light began to form there, brightening with each passing second. “You heard me, boy.”

  Mistress Bai shot him a frantic look, the blood draining from her face. She opened her mouth, presumably to plead her case, but Old Nan waved her hand dismissively and no words emerged.

  “She agreed to help too,” Jiang said, taking a half-step forward. He didn’t know why Old Nan seemed to have it out for Mistress Bai more than she did Li Xuan, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t that he trusted the woman, but she had been helpful – and if she could continue to help, then it was worth saving her from Old Nan.

  The attack forming in Nan’s hand dissipated. She lowered her arm, her smirk widening. She looked down at Mistress Bai, who was still standing rigidly on the rooftop, her face pale.

  “Did you hear that, peacock?” Old Nan called out, her voice carrying easily. “The boy’s word was all that stood between you and death. It seems you owe him your life.” She put a strange, heavy emphasis on the word ‘owe’.

  Mistress Bai looked confused for a fraction of a second before something changed – Jiang couldn’t describe it, but he felt it. A pressure, subtle but real, clicking into place. Mistress Bai’s expression shifted from shock to fury, then to resignation.

  After a long, choked moment, she gave a single, stiff nod of acceptance. “…I understand,” she muttered.

  “Good.” Old Nan lowered her hand, the light fading. “You can pay that debt later.”

  Jiang exhaled slowly. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath.

  Old Nan’s attention drifted toward the direction Elder Gui had been sent flying. She frowned. “You should leave the city,” she said.

  “Why?” Jiang asked. “You dealt with him.”

  She let out a dry chuckle that turned into a hacking cough, leaning heavily on her cane. “That old turtle had more life-saving trinkets on him than a dragon has scales. He’s hurt, but he’s not dead.” She glanced towards the city gates, her expression distant. “And if my old senses aren’t failing me, it seems there’s going to be another sect poking around soon as well.”

  She reached out and pinched Jiang’s cheek lightly, ignoring his startled flinch. “You’ve gotten into enough trouble for one day. I’ll make a nuisance of myself before they kill me. That’ll buy you some time. Now go. And try not to die stupid.”

  Jiang stared at her, the words echoing in the sudden quiet. She was going to stay. To fight. To die, when he’d been the one to bring this storm to her doorstep in the first place. He hadn’t known her long, hadn’t asked for her help beyond a few questions, but still... leaving her felt wrong. Like running away, again.

  His hands curled into fists, but he forced his voice steady. “What about Lin? And the others?”

  Old Nan waved a dismissive hand, already turning away from him, her gaze fixed on the dust cloud still settling where Elder Gui had vanished. “Already taken care of. The girl has sharp eyes and faster feet than you’d think. She’ll find her own way. Maybe she’ll find you again someday, if she decides you’re worth the trouble. I’ve made arrangements.” She didn’t look back. “Now go. Before that old bastard drags himself back here, or the next wave of vultures arrives.”

  There was something in her tone that made him pause – a faint edge beneath the weariness, something knowing. He wanted to ask what she meant, but she’d already turned away, resting both hands on her cane and gazing down the ruined street.

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  The silvery light of her Qi shimmered faintly along the stones, tracing cracks that hadn’t been there a moment before. The air itself felt charged, humming with restrained violence.

  There was nothing else to say. He looked up at Li Xuan and Mistress Bai on the rooftops. Li Xuan gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod. Mistress Bai’s expression was unreadable, but she turned without a word and leapt silently into the adjoining alley.

  He swallowed hard, then turned away, following the others down the shattered street. His steps felt heavy, his breath too loud.

  When they reached the corner, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.

  Old Nan stood alone amid the bodies of the Ironwood disciples, her cane planted firmly in the ground. The faint breeze tugged at her robe, carrying the smell of smoke and blood. For a moment, she looked almost small again, the frail woman she’d pretended to be. Then her aura pulsed, faint but unmistakable – a promise of ruin to anything foolish enough to return.

  Jiang stared at her for one long heartbeat, memorising every detail. The silver glow. The stillness. The faint, wry smile curving her lips.

  Then he turned and kept walking, the sound of distant thunder following them out of the city.

  — — —

  The world had grown very small.

  Old Nan drew a slow breath, feeling her lungs scrape like sandpaper. The silver glow in her veins pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat – steady, heavy, final. At this rate, she would gutter out in less than fifteen minutes. Her lifeforce burned bright and fast, a candle turned, however briefly, into a bonfire.

  But what a lovely light it shed.

  The distant rumble of falling buildings rolled through the ruined city she’d called home for the last few decades. Elder Gui’s – she’d made a point of keeping track of the sects in the area, no matter how faded she’d become – aura flickered at the edge of her perception, thin but persistent. In her prime, she’d have killed him with that opening strike, defensive treasure or not.

  Her hand tightened on the cane. The wood was scorched and blackened now, but still true. Alas, those days were long behind her.

  She could feel the Thousand Petal Grove elders rapidly approaching – petals of Qi brushing against her senses, soft and perfumed, disguising the rot beneath. Four elders, judging by the Qi signatures. Three real threats, but the fourth was still green, likely newly advanced.

  Quite the force they’d arrived with – and she could faintly sense a few dozen flickering embers of weaker disciples, left outside the city. She couldn’t even blame them, really – in this one, vanishingly rare instance, she even agreed with their show of force. Demonic cultivators were a pox on the land, a sickness that needed to be cut out as soon as it was discovered. Of course, it was less than convenient for the boy; fleeing inner or core disciples was one thing, fleeing elders was another entirely.

  A grin stole across her face.

  She’d just have to even the odds for him.

  She heard Gui before she saw him, the scrape of stone as he dragged himself from the rubble, his Qi signature a ragged, furious storm. He appeared at the mouth of the alley, one arm hanging uselessly by his side, his face smeared with blood.

  Before he could speak, the Thousand Petal Grove elders dropped silently from the rooftops, landing in a loose semicircle around her. Their leader, a woman with eyes like chips of ice, stepped forward.

  “Elder Gui,” the woman said, her voice devoid of warmth, though her gaze was fixed on Nan. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Gui didn’t look away from Nan. A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. “It seems, Elder Mei,” he said, his voice regaining some of its earlier strength, “that our hunt has flushed out more interesting prey than we anticipated.”

  Mei’s icy gaze assessed Nan, measured the power radiating from her. “Nascent Soul,” she breathed, a flicker of calculation in her eyes. “But… damaged.”

  Old Nan – she’d left her real name behind long ago, and this one carried fonder memories than the last anyway – laughed, a short, harsh sound. “More than enough for this,” she assured.

  Before they could reply, she struck.

  Targeting Gui again would be pointless; he was wounded but still dangerous, protected by layers of defensive treasures, and was on guard besides. She went for the weakest link – the newly advanced elder, the one whose Qi felt bright but brittle, lacking the deep resonance of true consolidation.

  The young elder had just begun to raise a hand when the light hit him. His protective Qi flared, flower-petals of pale pink blooming in the air — then withered instantly, consumed by silver flame. He didn’t even have time to scream. When the radiance faded, only scorched stone and drifting ash remained.

  The other three moved at once.

  “Formation!” barked Elder Mei. Qi flooded the street, thick with the scent of lotus and blood. Petals unfurled in the air like a rain of knives. Each one hummed with lethal intent.

  They attacked together, a wall of colour and noise. Her world shrank again—to motions, instincts, the old dance she’d perfected before any of them were born. Her cane struck the ground, and the earth heaved. Silver light devoured pink and green, and the smell of scorched stone filled the air.

  She felt the strain immediately. Her limbs trembled; her pulse faltered and raced again, uneven. Too slow, she thought. Too weak. But the old habits remained. Her Patron had forged her for war, and war did not forget its children.

  Mei appeared before her, twin ribbons of Qi whipping toward her throat. Old Nan caught one with her cane, twisted, and dragged the woman forward. Her other hand flared, claws of silver cutting through Mei’s shoulder guard. The elder wrenched free, retreating in a burst of petals, bleeding but alive.

  Old Nan hadn’t come out of it unscathed either – her entire left side was gone from shoulder to hip, and it was only decades of hard-won experience and a lack of care for the aftermath that allowed her to sear the wound shut with her Qi. She had minutes to live anyway – who cared if her end came from blood loss or burning her life-force away entirely?

  The other two struck from behind. One summoned vines of jade light that erupted from the ground, coiling toward her legs. The other conjured a spear that shimmered with embedded runes, thrusting straight for her heart.

  Old Nan let the vines wrap around her – and then vanished, twisting the fabric of the world just enough to slip through the shadows cast by the immaterial. It had been her favourite trick, once. She reformed behind them, the remaining half of her body glowing white-hot from the strain.

  The cost was immediate. Fire lanced through her shattered meridians. Her vision greyed at the edges. Years, decades maybe, burned away in that single motion. She leaned heavily on her cane, tasting blood at the back of her throat.

  By the Heavens, she’d missed this.

  Every heartbeat had been borrowed since her Patron’s fall — every breath another act of defiance. She’d watched her comrades die under banners of righteousness, watched the sects strip the world clean and call it order. She’d waited for something, someone, to make it all matter again.

  Then the boy had come, carrying shadows like a forgotten inheritance. Unpolished, untaught, unaware. But there was power in him — and something rarer still. Hope.

  For the first time in an age, she’d wanted to see what might come next.

  Her next swing stretched further than her remaining limb would usually allow, flashing silver to extend and slip through the spearman’s guard. His head hit the wall with a dull thud.

  Her breathing was shallow now, every exhale a puff of silver vapour. The glow beneath her skin was beginning to leak outward, burning through her robes. The edges of her vision pulsed dark.

  A flicker at the edge of her senses pulled her back. A whisper of movement behind her.

  Her body moved before thought. The cane swept back, intercepting a blade that wasn’t there an instant ago – but age had dulled her edge, and she felt the steel slide between her ribs, cold and deep.

  Her breath hitched.

  Elder Gui stood behind her, pale and trembling, his sword buried in her back. The stealth talisman on his wrist was burning out, the runes flickering one by one. His face was twisted in triumph and disbelief.

  She looked down at the blade, at the blood glowing faintly silver where it ran. Then she laughed – a hoarse, wheezing sound that shouldn’t have carried as far as it did.

  “You—” he began.

  “Here’s a lesson, boy,” she interrupted with another wheeze. “Never fight someone with nothing left to lose.”

  He froze, realisation dawning too late.

  The silver light flared one last time as her core detonated, bright enough to turn night into day. For an instant, she saw her Patron’s face – calm, distant, waiting. She thought of Jiang again, and smiled.

  The world vanished in white. Stone, flame, and blood folded into light, and when the thunder faded, there was nothing left of the street but a crater and the echo of a howl.