The silence of the night and the clamor of the heart could not harmonize.

  Gu Zong’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

  Before he could comprehend what was happening, Han Wuang Shi summoned his sword back into his hand and lunged forward... his blade slicing through the air toward the tree where Gu Zong stood. But the attack was not meant for Gu Zong… it was meant for Xiao Tang.

  Gu Zong immediately raised his hand, channeling his internal energy to defend. His cultivation was still weak... barely enough to withstand the blow. He knew that if he pushed further, his body would collapse under its own power. Yet he had no choice.

  Power met steel, and in the next instant, the night exploded into chaos.

  A fierce battle erupted between Han Wuang Shi and Gu Zong, one burning with wrath, the other with sorrow.

  Han Wuang Shi’s eyes blazed with fury. He did not even pause for breath. His blade struck again and again, every swing fueled by a storm of rage and grief. He did not recognize Gu Zong at all... he saw only Xiao Tang, the man he believed to be a traitor. Because Xiao Tang had say the name of Han Wuang Shi, and anyone who speek his name was like a traitor to him.

  Xiao Tang, who once traded lotus seeds with the Lian Qingxue Clan, was now, in Han Wuang Shi’s eyes, a spy sent to deceive them. His spiritual sense confirmed it, feeding his madness.

  Gu Zong, however, stood frozen in disbelief. The man before him... his mortal enemy.... was none other than Han Wuang Shi, his own Love in soul and heart. But it was too late to speak, too late to listen.

  Just then, several soldiers from the Yingtian Clan arrived, rushing to defend Xiao Tang. Yet Han Wuang Shi, consumed by vengeance, cut through them without hesitation. His blade danced like lightning... terrible, precise, merciless.

  Within moments, the ground was soaked in blood. Han Wuang Shi stood alone amidst the fallen, his breath steady, his expression empty.

  Gu Zong collapsed to the ground, blood trickling from his nose. People rushed to lift him, but he could hear nothing. His gaze was locked upon Han Wuang Shi...

  the man who had once fought beside him, now fighting like a corpse with no soul.

  As Gu Zong’s consciousness dimmed, Han Wuang Shi turned silently and walked away.

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  No one dared to stop him. No one dared even to speak.

  By dawn, more than forty men... officers of the Hegong, Yingtian, and Han Qiantian Clans... lay dead at his feet.

  ---

  That Same Morning…

  When Qing Yu entered Xiao Tang’s room, the silence was unbearable.

  He and Mei Gui waited for hours, but there was still no sign of him.

  Finally, Mei Gui slammed her hand upon the table.

  “Let’s go,” she said coldly. “I’ll deal with Xiao Tang later.”

  Qing Yu followed her quietly, though worry shadowed his every step.

  ---

  The Han Qiantian Clan

  The Han Qiantian Palace shone like a bride prepared for her wedding... yet in Han Lao Fang’s chamber, silence reigned so deep that even one’s thoughts echoed.

  On the bed lay Han Zaoshi, feverish and weak from the punishment he had received. Han Lao Fang sat beside him, eyes clouded with guilt. But Zaoshi had turned his face away, refusing to look at him.

  Breaking the heavy silence, Han Lao Fang spoke softly, voice trembling with affection and regret.

  “If I hadn’t punished you, Zaoshi, Master Hun Zang and Master Ruie Gaojun would have given you something far worse. Forgive me, my brother… but Xian Yong Ming is a sinner... the murderer of our father and mother. You know this.

  On the very night of his wedding, he took his wife’s life. He not only killed his wife but also attacked our trust. Master Ruie Gaojun would never tolerate hearing his daughter’s killer spoken of in the high court.

  That is why I had no choice but to act as I did.”

  Han Lao Fang’s voice broke, his eyes filling with tears.

  “Remember, Zaoshi.... we have no bond with Xian Yong Ming any longer. He has lost the right to call us brothers. And you must never call him brother again.”

  He turned away, the weight of sorrow bowing his shoulders. Inside, he felt hollow... as though his soul had fallen into an endless chasm.

  Zaoshi did not move. He said nothing, his face turned toward the wall, as if he had heard nothing at all.

  With a heavy sigh, Han Lao Fang stood and quietly left the room. Outside, his two disciples and several officials were waiting. As he passed, they bowed and followed him out of the palace halls.

  ---

  The Grand Hall

  The hall was alive with laughter and feasting... but not everyone shared in the joy.

  At the head table sat Hun Zang and Ruie Gaojun, refilling each other’s cups in grim silence. Every sip of wine fanned the flames of their hatred.

  Ruie Gaojun slammed his cup down, eyes burning.

  “xian Yong Ming?” he spat. “That stupid han zaoshi has the nerve to have his name spoken in front of me?

  If Han Lao hadn’t interfered, I’d have cut him down myself!

  Were Master Han Huan Hao still alive, would his sons dare treat us with such insolence?”

  Hun Zang poured more wine, smirking.

  “You’re right, Brother. Xian Yong Ming is filth. He killed your daughter, his own father.... Chief Han Huan Hao... and even his mother. But we need not dirty our hands.”

  He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

  “The three brothers once known as the Han Trio will destroy one another. The wheel of fate is already turning. And you know.... last night, he fought again and slaughtered many. We need only wait. Luo Xuan will finish what he began. He’s no fool to let such an opportunity slip away.”

  Their laughter echoed through the hall... bitter, hollow, poisoned.

  Around them, the guests drank and laughed, oblivious. None noticed that two men were toasting not to celebration, but to betrayal and bloodshed.

  They were not only poisoning themselves...

  they were forcing cups of poison down each other’s throats.