The path toward the northern mine twisted through towering stone cliffs and crooked pine trees that clung stubbornly to the mountainside as though refusing to yield to time or gravity. Their dark branches filtered the sunlight into long, blade-like beams that cut across the narrow trail, yet even that warmth failed to dispel the strange heaviness lingering in the air.

  The wind moved quietly through the valley, carrying faint echoes that never seemed to belong entirely to nature. Eklavya walked ahead with steady, measured steps, his posture relaxed but deliberate, as if he had already accepted whatever awaited them beyond the bend.

  Beside him, Anshvi moved with silent awareness, her senses sharpened far beyond ordinary instinct, every subtle shift in sound or movement registering within her perception.

  They had barely advanced twenty steps into the mouth of the valley when Anshvi leaned slightly closer, her voice no louder than the whisper of wind brushing stone. “Since we entered this area… someone has been following us.”

  Her eyes did not turn, nor did her pace change, yet tension quietly gathered beneath her calm exterior. Eklavya neither slowed nor looked back as well. He simply nodded once, confirming a suspicion already formed. “Let them,” he replied.

  The simplicity of his answer made her glance at him briefly. There was no fear in his expression, no visible caution — only a calm acceptance that felt almost unsettling. It was not recklessness; it was certainty. Whatever followed them did not worry him, and that fact alone made her more alert than the threat itself.

  The valley narrowed as they descended, cliffs rising like jagged walls on either side. A cold stream rushed along the rocky slope, its water so clear it mirrored the sky perfectly, untouched by the dust of the world below. Soon, faint metallic echoes reached their ears — the rhythmic strike of tools against stone.

  Within minutes, the mine revealed itself: a vast opening carved into the mountainside like an open wound upon the earth. Rough timber structures supported pulley systems and lifts, while tents and supply crates surrounded the entrance in organised clusters.

  Workers moved in practiced rhythm, their bodies coated in grey dust, voices blending into the steady cadence of labour. Yet beneath the ordinary activity lingered unease; even the miners seemed quieter, their movements sharper, as if instinct warned them of approaching disturbance.

  As Eklavya and Anshvi approached, a tall figure in a black-and-red Rudra Clan uniform straightened from his work, wiping grit from his brow. Jai Rudra — broad-shouldered, scar-lined, and steady as a mountain — strode toward them with quick, purposeful steps.

  His mere presence caused nearby workers to instinctively stand straighter. “Young Master?” Jai asked, surprise clear in his voice. “What brings you here?”

  Eklavya joined his hands respectfully and bowed slightly. “Elder, you haven’t returned to the clan for a month. I came to check on you. And… on the way here, I sensed people following us. They don’t appear openly hostile, but it’s better to be cautious. Please have all miners take shelter inside the cave.”

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  Jai’s expression hardened instantly. Without wasting a heartbeat, he turned and roared orders that shook dust loose from the surrounding rocks. “Everyone inside! Move quickly! Guards — defensive positions!”

  The miners reacted immediately, years of discipline overriding confusion as they hurried toward safety. Within moments, organised movement replaced casual labour. Jai turned back toward Eklavya and nodded. “It’s done.”

  Eklavya relaxed slightly before asking, “Why haven’t you returned even once this past month, Elder?”

  Jai smiled faintly, brushing dust from his sleeve. “Nothing serious. Just too much work. The mine demanded constant supervision.”

  Eklavya accepted the answer with a nod before a playful spark appeared in his eyes. “Then don’t forget to come back for the festival this year.”

  Jai raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. “Planning to repeat the trouble you and Ashish caused with those poor clan children last time?” he asked dryly.

  Eklavya chuckled. “You’ll find out when you come. But promise first.”

  Jai laughed softly, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I promise.”

  Their interaction carried warmth uncommon between elder and junior, more like brothers separated by age than rank.

  Jai Rudra was the youngest elder of the clan, barely past thirty, yet his talent in cultivation was extraordinary. He had reached Master Warrior at seventeen — an achievement few could dream of — earning both respect and responsibility early.

  Even Ashish, considered gifted, had only reached seven-star Master Warrior at twenty-three.

  Because of that shared familiarity and Jai’s easy nature, he treated Eklavya and Ashish less as distant juniors and more as younger brothers he had watched grow, a bond forged not through authority but genuine affection.

  Before they could say anything more to each other.

  The valley exploded with motion. Workers scrambled toward the cavern, dropping tools, dragging crates, yelling warnings to those deeper inside.

  Guards formed loose lines around the entrance with the discipline of men who understood that fear only got in the way of survival.

  As the commotion settled, Anshvi faced Eklavya again. “How can you be sure they weren’t just following us?”

  Eklavya finally looked up toward the treeline where shadows lingered too long. “Because they stopped keeping distance once we reached the mine. They didn’t attack earlier because they wanted us grouped. They want the mine… and anyone connected to it.”

  Before she could respond, a shift in the air made both of them turn simultaneously. Branches shook and leaves scattered. Killing intent descended like an avalanche.

  Figures dropped from the treetops—eight of them—landing with enough force to crack stone. A four-star Grandmaster stood in front, his aura heavy and cold. One one-star Grandmaster warrior, two Master warriors landed behind him, and four practitioner warriors fanned out to block escape.

  They looked like mercenaries, not belonging to any clan. Their armour was mismatched, weapons worn but deadly.

  Jai stepped forward with a low growl in his chest, his aura flaring. Anshvi moved slightly in front of Eklavya, her stance already lowering, her hand hovering near her double-headed spear. The two Rudra practitioner guards tightened their grip on their weapons.

  On their side, the numbers were grim. One five-star Grandmaster—Anshvi. Jai was a two-star Grandmaster. Two practitioners. And Eklavya—still only in the chakra opening realm.

  Outnumbered didn’t even begin to describe it.