The sky changed above Hao before he knew to breathe a word of farewell. For just a moment, there was no sky. Trapped in a tunnel of swirling light, purples and yellows fought each other as he was shuttled through the void. The two worlds in between were just a mesh from which he floated.

  It was the same as when Hao had entered the Mid-Summer Cave, but he was different now. He could see more than black. There was even a scent to the emptiness now, something close to sandalwood and a red wood lacquer.

  Hao managed one farewell. He saw the little squirrel creatures with their exceptionally long claws still using the hole left in a hillside for shelter. Their little paws had worn more of the stone down. As for that woman, one of the first people Hao had seen after entering the Secret Realm, she was nowhere to be found. He had sent her to that place.

  “Perhaps she is still alive; she will be outside if so…” Hao could not hear his voice in the void, but it echoed back to him from inside the Spirit-Holding bag.

  When the void faded, he stood on red stone. People appeared out of the air in front of him, at his sides, most of them ran forward as soon as they could, joining fellow Sect Members and Elders they had not seen in months, half a year.

  “Quick! We don’t have all day, do we?” The Seventh Elder, a man Hao had nearly forgotten about, stood with his hands behind his back, new lines of stress on his face. Two more appeared when he looked at a small group of three to his left.

  Hao recognized the Nightwatcher. A few others of Mo Bangcai’s group as well, and the Young Patriarch himself.

  “What are you lingering for? Go!” The Seventh Elder looked down at them, his voice somewhere between a shout and a whisper, but everyone heard it loud and clear.

  The Elders from other Sects were in even more of a rush. “Faster, board, board!” If he hadn’t known beforehand, Hao would have recognized the two men pointing sabers at the sky as Elders from Two Rivers Fort, their yellow robes spotless.

  It was certainly winter outside. Barely so compared to the Secret Realm, which operated within the bounds of separate seasons. This sky Hao knew. The smattering of clouds and subtle winds sent the sensation of ice through the threads of his robes.

  “Home… we can finally go home.” A hand grabbed Hao’s shoulder from behind, its owner a man who nodded his head with a shiver as he looked around, counting under his breath.

  Hao didn’t think of it beforehand. He kept his head low as he stepped forward and scanned the crowd around. The man who grabbed him moved to another, who shoved him to the ground.

  The number that returned was a fraction of the number that entered the Secret Realm. Hao was among the last group. Behind him, the tear in space started fading, colors stuttered as a sputtering sound like a flat stone skipping across water turned the crowd’s noise into a single mess. It was annoying, but made floating through the people invisible easy.

  The Elders didn’t pay any attention to him, so his disguise was working well enough. Though the patch job he did on his robe was questionable.

  Hao didn’t have to worry; it was clear each Elder had their distraction. The woman elder of Blue Moons Mountain wore her white cloak provocatively, more like it was made to impress patrons, not to keep the weather off her shoulders. Her milky white skin in a hypnotic display. Most disciples, male and female, looked her way for just a peek—or a few glances. The only ones who ignored her completely were the male disciples of her same faction gathered behind her.

  Hao glanced a few times, though he noticed the expression she had on, too, a smile of triumph like she didn’t have a care in the world, and it favored her for it.

  He noticed a few more important things. Dong Lingli, for one, was spotless, not a scratch on him, his hands resting on his enormous belly as he stared up at the sky mindlessly.

  Probably thinking up some weird contraption. He thought the sight of a friend took some tension out of his shoulders. He was curious if Yao, or the couple, Bao, and Lang, were out here alive. As he looked through, someone else caught his eye, and it made his skin prickle.

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  “What are you doing? Come on.” A disciple from the Drifting Stream Sect ushered Hao forward to the rest of the Sect, but he couldn’t peel his eyes from the sight over at the Blue Moons Mountain Sect gathering.

  How, why, how is he still alive… Meng Hongyu, the Sun-touched Swordsman no more, his original, handsome face without the swelling or blisters, lingered near the flying ship of his faction with its pompous white fur flag. He had a hardened expression. Eyes like the sword he wielded, sharp and cold, passed over everyone in the red stone gorge as the portal faded to nothing.

  Hao felt them pass over him. The pressure they gave off lingered on him, a lightweight; the hair on his neck stood, and his step stuttered. Luckily, his gaze didn’t stay for long. With a pout on his face, Hongyu continued, he was looking for someone, and that someone was without a doubt Hao.

  “What are you doing? Stop staring and get a move on,” The Seventh Elder called out. He flung out an arm. The gray streaks in his hair fluttered as his sleeve flung a torrent of wind around anyone from the Drifting Stream lingering. There was some urgency in his voice.

  Hao found it hard to look away. A second torrent of wind wrapped around him, and him alone. Before he knew it, the Seventh Elder was standing in front of him.

  “Don’t look at that stagnant riverbed. It would only swallow you for sustenance.” The Seventh Elder pulled on Hao’s shoulder, bringing him away from the center of the red gorge and towards the Drifting Stream Sect’s crowd.

  “I don’t mind,” She spoke, her head stretching up as she pulled her cloak further apart like she was showing off something worth looking at. “None of you will be seeing me for at least a few years.” She said it with a chuckle, a cutesy act, or something, with her hand going up to cover her mouth. Her feet lifted off the ground.

  Hao was hardly looking at her, only now that she was waving innocently like she wasn’t a two-hundred-year-old Elder who hadn’t slaughtered dozens of people did he take that second glance. Though she was pleasant to look at. He was busy thinking of the likelihood of Hongyu coming to kill him, or, as he had seen his hair, other Islanders.

  Hongyu was vengeful—a fair disposition considering the culture of the Cultivation World, but where his limits stopped, Hao was concerned.

  Hao took a quick peek at the part in his overly decorated robes. Hongyu was right next to her calf as he flew alongside her, boarding the ship. The ship with its massive white fur flag slowly powered up. Any remaining disciples in their white cloaks were gathered and shuttled to its deck.

  “Burning boats…” Hao muttered, now knowing Hongyu’s strength and identity were clearly beyond what he imagined.

  The Seventh Elder misunderstood, though. He tapped on Hao’s shoulder a few times. “Don’t even think of her like that. There are as many foxes in the world as there are dogs. Never trust a fox with pretty eyes until it reveals what it is hiding under its coat,” he sighed, an angry, sour expression filled his eyes. “Sometimes vibrant fur hides the worms crawling beneath the skin.”

  She must have heard the words spoken by the Seventh Elder. She called out, her voice like a sick bird, chirping out over the gorge, echoed from the giant, pompous ship. “If my Lord Sect Master doesn’t discuss how we are to handle this dreadful situation with Senior Meng Nai Xu, surely, we will send a delegation to discuss with you.” She paused, pretended to catch her breath to let the words stick, then continued. “After all, a disciple of yours is doing such a thing to a young woman of another faction. Well… Let’s hope we can find peace as we are united as we fight alongside the Soaring Sect.”

  Her words stopped, but she felt a need to amplify her chuckle, perhaps just to agitate the Seventh Elder a little more.

  It worked, the old man rubbing his face. That hand, yet to free Hao’s shoulder, squeezed down, old fingernails like iron files dug into his bones. He was smiling when that hand came down. The old man wore a convincing mask and echoed a cheerful voice almost as good. “Haha. Grand Senior Muxian. Our Sects will find some compromise, that is assured, is it not?”

  Hao flinched at the amplified voice of the Seventh Elder. Standing right by the old man while he spoke like that made his head feel like it was inside a drum. He had a few ideas of what they could be talking about.

  The old man dragged Hao with him up onto the shoddy ship that belonged to the Drifting Stream.

  Hao saw its whirring runes from the outside as it floated ahead of him, the ground getting further away. It was his second time being dragged like this. Flight was still, well, flight. He was distracted by the mutterings of the Seventh Elder.

  “Nothing more than frogs riding the coattails of Blue Moons Mountain…” The Seventh Elder muttered. He floated above the flying

  The ships of the two other Sects started moving. Two Rivers Fort still lingered a while longer, probably chuckling as the tensions between the two greater Sects got hot in front of them. Their ship was a little better than the Drifting Streams.

  “You aren't bad. You look like a beggar and act like a fool, but you survived, and didn’t disgrace us.” The Seventh Elder spat the words as he landed on the deck, boards creaking. He let go of Hao and glared over at the Nightwatcher, who was covering Mo Bangcai’s face.