The bright light faded, and suddenly, everything around me came into focus.

  Before us was a giant statue of a bald figure, kneeling, holding some kind of scroll. The writing on it was barely visible, faint against the ancient surface.

  At the center of the area, there was a huge pattern—the same kind Chen Wei and Liu Hao had been drawing with their flags before. Countless small flags were scattered across it, all vibrating slightly, alive with energy.

  They gestured for me to step forward with them. I hesitated, but Chen Wei squeezed my hand gently, giving me the courage to move.

  Then they began waving their flags again. A soft light appeared at my feet, coming from the pattern below. The glow spread slowly, warm and steady.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Chen Wei said calmly, her voice grounding me.

  The pattern started to rotate. Slowly at first, then faster, and I felt the air hum with strange energy.

  And then… I saw it.

  A vision—sharp, vivid, and completely unexpected. A man appeared before me in my mind’s eye. His forehead was stained with blood, long hair falling over a face marred with deep slashes. A thick beard covered his jaw, giving him a rough, unyielding look.

  He looked straight at me, and in a voice that shook something deep inside me, he said:

  “Mu’er…”

  My heart skipped a beat. Who was he? And why did I feel like I knew him… even though I couldn’t place him?

  The pattern kept spinning, the lights flickering across the walls, and a shiver ran down my spine. Somehow… I felt like this was only the beginning.

  -in outside-

  As Qin Mu’s body froze, rigid and unresponsive, Chen Wei acted quickly. She reached out, her hands steady, and pulled him out of the Heavenly Transfer Array.

  Liu Hao moved beside her, waving her flags with precision. With a sharp motion, she halted the array’s activation. The spinning lights slowed, the hum fading into silence.

  The massive pattern beneath them dimmed, the flags settling as if nothing had happened. Yet the energy still lingered, faint and pulsing, like a heartbeat waiting for the next command.

  Chen Wei’s gaze lingered on Qin Mu, her expression unreadable but calm. Liu Hao, meanwhile, glanced at the array, ensuring everything was fully stopped, before turning her attention back to the two of them.

  Outside of Qin Mu, the world felt heavy with suppressed power—like the array itself had been holding back something far larger than anyone had expected.

  Chen Wei and Liu Hao exchanged a sharp glance, unspoken questions passing between them. The sudden surge of light in Qin Mu’s eyes had caught them both off guard.

  “What just happened?” Liu Hao whispered, her voice low, tense.

  Chen Wei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached into her robes and pulled out a small, intricately carved pagoda. Its surface shimmered faintly, layers stacked like a miniature tower, humming with contained energy.

  “This… we’ll try again,” she said softly, her eyes locking on Qin Mu. “But this time, we’ll use this for him.”

  With careful precision, they began activating the nine-layer pagoda. Each layer lit up one by one, glowing with a steady, warm light, resonating with a deep hum that filled the room.

  Once fully activated, Chen Wei gestured for Qin Mu to step inside. The air around him seemed to shift, heavy yet protective, as the pagoda’s energy enveloped him. Liu Hao stood close, waving her flags to stabilize the pattern around the structure, ensuring nothing interfered with the delicate process.

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  The room was silent except for the soft hum and the faint crackle of qi energy. Even the stone walls seemed to pulse in rhythm with the pagoda, as if acknowledging the presence of someone far beyond the ordinary.

  …. (……)

  Back at Qin Mu’s house after the disappearance in school, his mother paused mid-motion, a strange ripple of qi brushing against her senses. She froze, heart tightening. It wasn’t anything she could fully understand, but it was… unusual. Powerful, yet restrained.

  She shook her head slightly, trying not to pay too much attention. There was already chaos outside—soldiers patrolling the streets, drones scanning the neighborhood, and news reports full of confusion. She didn’t need another worry.

  Then, a sudden knock echoed at the door. Sharp. Insistent.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she approached, glancing once toward the window, the lingering qi still brushing at her senses. Whoever—or whatever—was outside, it wasn’t ordinary.

  Qin Mu’s mother hesitated at the door. Something about the air outside felt wrong—someone was here who shouldn’t be. Her hand trembled slightly as she slowly opened it and forced a polite smile.

  “Good afternoon, how can I help you?” she said.

  Her eyes widened in shock. Standing before her was the Dean of the university

  The Dean spoke first, calm but tense. “Good afternoon to you too, Mrs. Qin Yao. May we talk for a moment?”

  Qin Yao tried to maintain her composure. “What happened? Why are there so many soldiers with you?” she asked, her voice steady but her heart racing.

  The Dean’s expression softened slightly, though his eyes were heavy with worry. “I’m afraid your son has been taken hostage by a group of people posing as students at the university,” he said. “I am truly sorry for what has happened, Mrs. Qin.”

  Qin Yao’s breath caught. She shook her head in disbelief. “Taken hostage… Mu’er? That can’t be true. Where is he now?”

  The Dean lowered his head, his voice somber. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Qin, but after the hostage situation… he disappeared. He vanished in mid-air. None of us could follow.”

  One of the soldiers stepped forward, his tone grave. “I saw it… my comrades died trying to stop them. When we arrived, the man—he had a boy with him, maybe sixteen, pale, in shock. We couldn’t do anything.”

  Qin Yao’s hands tightened on the doorframe. Her mind raced. Her son… gone? Taken by people pretending to be students… and no one knew where he was now. A chill ran down her spine as the gravity of the situation sank in.

  One of the soldiers stepped forward. Unlike the others, he carried a quiet, almost commanding aura, as if his presence alone demanded attention. He spoke with measured calm.

  “Mrs. Qin,” he said, “if you ever receive any news about your son, please contact us. Here is our station number.”

  He handed her a small calling card. Qin Yao took it with trembling fingers, her eyes already glistening. She tried to maintain her composure, but the weight of the situation pressed down on her chest.

  “Thank you… thank you so much,” she whispered, voice shaking. Tears brimmed and then fell freely. She straightened slightly, forcing a polite smile toward the Dean and the soldiers.

  “Goodbye,” she said softly, her hand clutching the card as she closed the door, heart heavy with worry for her son.

  For a long moment, she stood there, staring at the card. Every thought in her mind circled around Mu’er

  Outside, the soldiers waited silently, their expressions unreadable, while the Dean gave a small, respectful nod before stepping away with them. The quiet after the door closed was deafening, leaving Qin Yao alone with her fear, her hope, and her aching heart.

  After a while, the presence outside faded. Qin Yao wiped her tears and clutched the necklace tightly in her hand, her fingers brushing over the worn stone.

  “So… they’ve been spotted,” she murmured softly, more to herself than anyone else. “I hope they’ll take care of Mu’er.”

  Her gaze drifted to the window, eyes tracing the sky as if she could see beyond the clouds. Thoughts of Qin Mu, Chen Wei, and Liu Hao swirled in her mind. She pressed the necklace closer to her chest and whispered, barely audible:

  “You two know the plan… see you in the Middle Realm.”

  The wind brushed lightly against the curtains, carrying with it the weight of her worry, hope, and silent resolve.

  Back in the shadowed ruins, Chen Wei and Liu Hao worked silently, adjusting the formation with precise gestures. The banners twirled and shifted, responding to their hands and whispers, aligning the pattern toward the path they intended. Each small movement mattered, each flag a part of the delicate system that would guide them to their destination.

  When the adjustments were done, the formation began to hum softly, the banners flowing and circling the area, faint glows marking the energy lines. Liu Hao stepped back, her crimson tunic brushing lightly against the ground. “It’s time to go home,” she said quietly, her eyes distant for a moment.

  Chen Wei glanced at her, noticing the unusual pause. She could see Liu Hao’s thoughts lingering on someone far away—Lady Qin Yao. Despite being from the Middle Realm, Lady Qin Yao had treated them with kindness, understanding, and generosity. They owed her more than they could ever repay.

  Liu Hao whispered softly, as if speaking to the air itself: “Keep him safe… and… someday, reunite him with his father.”

  Chen Wei’s brows furrowed slightly. They had no idea who Qin Mu’s father was, and that part of the request remained a mystery. For now, ensuring Qin Mu’s safety was all they could guarantee.