The air in Storm-Anchor smelled of woodsmoke, searing fat, and the sharp citrusy bite of Sun-Dried Dragon-Tail chilies. Jian emerged from the shadows of the lower district, tattered cloak trailing dust, boots silent on cobblestones. He followed the scent of the feast like a magnetic north pulling his hunger toward the high spire.

  In the central courtyard, a massive spit-roast turned over white-hot coals. Zelari and Saphra stood flanked by the four heirs of the Void, awake and remarkably solid for children with severed souls.

  "How did you know?" Jian rasped, cutting through the crackle of the fire.

  Saphra looked up from a mortar and pestle with a faint knowing smile. "I’m an alchemist, Jian. I know your resonance better than my own pulse. I felt the earth-quake in the mountains and the shift in the ley-lines. You don't exactly move quietly."

  "And the scouts reported a vertical streak of fire and shadow heading this way," Zelari added, hand on her hip. "We put two and two together. It was just lucky timing that the roast was ready when you crawled back into the light."

  "Lucky timing," Caelum muttered with a grin. He looked taller, broader, skin carrying a permanent bronze-scale sheen catching the firelight.

  Jian’s Edge Aura performed a surgical scan of their newfound stability. The children had transitioned into the Nascent Soul stage, internal energies anchored by the iridescent and draconic souls he helped forge.

  Lyzara stepped forward with a small flickering spirit-beast—a miniature golden-winged hawk—perched on her shoulder. The bird’s eyes were twin suns reflecting the power of the Sun-Garuda.

  Oh, look at the little bird, Kyuzumi purred in Jian’s mind. A new being, so fresh and untainted. It’s practically begging for a little bit of Void-corruption, don't you think? Imagine what a Fox-Garuda hybrid would look like, Jian.

  "Stay back, Fox," Jian muttered. He nodded at Lyzara. "Excellent. It worked. You are now in the Nascent Soul stage. The Heaven's Thread is gone, and the path is yours. Now, you must expand your minds. Let’s eat. Prepare your dantians for the next layer."

  The children’s eyes widened. They had just achieved a rank most cultivators spent centuries chasing, and their father was already talking about the next layer as if it were a side-dish.

  "Don't coddle them, Jian," Zelari commented. "They need to understand the weight of the steel they’re carrying."

  "The heavens wait for no one, Zelari," Jian said, voice a low melodic thrum. "They will be tempered willingly or forcefully. The script doesn't allow for rest once the lead actors are on the stage."

  He pulled the Tainted Earth Core from his storage ring. A pulsing black-and-green orb sucking the heat out of nearby coals.

  "Saphra. The ingredients," Jian commanded.

  The alchemist inspected the core with a furrowed brow. "It’s tainted, Jian. Heavily. The Immortal-Rot has seeped into the marrow of the stone. If I use this as the anchor for your Haxar absorption, the backlash will be... significant."

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  "It’s fine," Jian said, locking eyes with her. "Get the counterbalance. Use the right Yang and the right Yin. The rot is just a flavor, Saphra. It’s the energy that matters."

  Saphra sighed. "I’ll have to use the Deep-Sea Marrow and the Celestial Lotus petals. Ingredients I cannot replace easily in this part of the world. This is the last of my royal stock."

  Jian waved her off with casual arrogance. "I will find better of whatever you use. The North has treasures that make the Empire’s vaults look like a beggar’s cup. Just do it."

  Saphra retreated to her lab. Jian turned his gaze back to the children, performing the Puppet Check one more time. No yellow tint. No mockery. Only raw earnest power.

  He’s been crafty this time, Jian thought, tightening his grip on the Eclipse Fang. But he’s here. Somewhere.

  "Caelum, your scales," Jian said, pointing a scarred finger. "Don't just use them for defense. They can conduct Dragon-Yang. Vibrate them at the right frequency to turn your skin into a living furnace. Lyzara, the hawk is a conduit. Not a pet; a secondary brain."

  Valeriana watched the spirit-beast on Lyzara’s shoulder with profound silent jealousy. The Garuda’s essence had once been hers to guard, but it never bonded with her like this.

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, the ceremony began.

  Saphra returned with a smoking cauldron of alchemical broth, Tainted Earth Core suspended in violet liquid. Jian stepped into the center of the pavilion, took a deep rhythmic breath, and swallowed the core whole.

  Instantaneous reaction. Jian’s body arched, sound like a thunderclap echoing as the Earth Core embedded itself into his fragile vessel. Not reaching the Fourth Step yet, but the heavy grounding resonance finally allowed him to anchor the volatile energy of High Immortal Haxar. Fire in his gut boiled, white-hot heat melting Natal Spirit corruption.

  "I need the counterbalance," Jian rasped, eyes turning brilliant terrifying copper. "The North. I can feel it. A wind creature. High mountain. Sharp peaks."

  Zelari traced jagged mountains on the map. "The Ancient Spires. Off-limits for a century. Legends say a Storm-Roc or Sky-Leviathan lives there. We aren't sure of the biology."

  "It’ll probably taste like turkey," Jian muttered with a faint twisted smile.

  "What's a turkey?" Caelum asked.

  Jian let out a dry wheezing cackle that made the guards flinch. Haxar's energy unlocked the next layer of the Old Man’s processing. He felt the urge to give in to the madness, to follow the path of ten million previous Jians.

  No.

  He clenched his fist, Nothingness flaring to silence the Fox’s laughter. That’s the script. I won't be the puppet this time.

  "We have to reach the spires within fifty hours," Jian said, voice cold and focused. "If I don't get the Wind Core before the Haxar energy peaks, the fire will turn into steam and burst my meridians. I’ll detonate, and this city will be a crater."

  Silence. Generals and rebels looked at each other with panic.

  "Fifty hours?" a general gasped. "We have to break through two Imperial garrisons! The Iron-Wall fortress and the Silent-Watch pass! The most heavily fortified points in the Northern Empire!"

  "Just one step at a time," Saphra said steadily. "We have the legions. We have the Calamity. We move now."

  Zelari looked at the kids—new Nascent Soul powers, golden scales, shimmering wind. She looked at Jian, then back at the children. A dangerous plan formed.

  "Saphra won't like this," Zelari whispered.

  "What?" Saphra asked.

  "We aren't going to break through the garrisons," Zelari said with the authority of a supreme commander. "We’re going to leap-frog them. The kids... they have the energy now. They have the resonance. We’re going to use them as anchors for a mass-scale spatial jump."

  Saphra’s jaw dropped. "Zelari, that’s suicide! The strain on their new souls—"

  "They’re the Calamity’s children, Saphra," Zelari interrupted, gaze hard. "They were born for the strain. And besides... Jian said he wants them tempered, didn't he?"

  Jian didn't answer. He walked toward the northern gate, a vertical streak of shadow against the moonlight. The march had begun, and the Heaven-Sovereign Empire was about to find out what happens when you stand between a starving man and his next meal.