Yan glared across the forest at the man who had murdered Ming. All her training, all the time that Yun and Ruiwen had spent watching the school—it had all been for this. He would die, burned to ashes by her righteous fire, and Ming would smile down upon her from the Heavens.

  Everything had gone according to plan. The two arrogant disciples hadn’t even noticed the trio following them, too preoccupied with whatever they were hunting. That first night, Yan and her friends had camped a mile away from the duo’s site. They had considered ambushing them while they slept, but the two school disciples had been smart enough to take watch shifts.

  Fortunately, the very next day, the pair had started a fight with a spirit beast. At first, Yan thought no opportunity would present itself, since they had managed to kill the purple-colored wolf so easily. She had watched the hunt from a hundred yards back and had grown alarmed upon learning that the murderer’s companion was at the fourth layer. But then the howling began, and shortly after, she realized what the two disciples had—an approaching pack.

  Yan, Yun, and Ruiwen had also fled at the sight of the terrifying horned wolves. Their priorities shifted toward survival instead of vengeance the moment they spotted the Adept Realm beast. She couldn’t avenge her brother and Chen if she died here. And truthfully, the wolves terrified her. Being eaten alive seemed like an awful way to die. So awful, in fact, that Yan would’ve been content if the wolves had gotten to the murderer first.

  But then she watched in disbelief as the fiend unleashed a lightning bolt that severed the Adept Realm wolf’s leg. Still fifty yards away, she stared wide-eyed. He was only at the second layer of the Initial Realm—like her—and yet had managed to wound a beast she wouldn't dare approach. She’d even used her third eye to check. If anything, her own second layer was thicker. What kind of trickery is this?

  Much to her dismay, the wolves retreated. Yan nearly scrapped her entire plan. If the spear wielder had a technique that strong, then she and her friends would be annihilated. But then she saw it—the truth. He was exhausted, barely staying upright.

  Now or never.

  The girl was stronger, but not invincible. Yan reminded herself that there wasn’t a huge physical difference between cultivators within the same realm. All she had to do was strike first.

  She led her friends forward, moving quietly as the school disciples conversed. Once in range, she focused her fire qi into her palm and launched an Ember Dart. As she hoped, it struck the girl first, knocking her down and removing her from the fight. The Heavens are with me. They see my cause is just.

  Now standing across from the murderer, Yan felt her resolve crystalize. His attempt to shame her for harming the other disciple hadn’t worked. Like most Western Quarter residents, she viewed the Three Martial Schools with the same contempt reserved for the city guard, the Righteous Mantle Sect, and the Kurai Clan. None of them cared about her people. She’d seen a disciple from this very school kill Chen for no reason. The world was merciless. If one of the elite finally experienced that truth like she had, then good.

  The spear wielder raised his weapon and shouted a threat. Yan ignored it and raised her hands, flames flickering in her palms.

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  “He’s mine,” she told Yun and Ruiwen. “Keep the girl down. Don’t let her interfere.”

  Yun patted his thick metal club against his hand. “We’ll keep her down.”

  Ruiwen, mace in hand, moved to stand between the wounded disciple and Yan. “Leave her to us.”

  Yan nodded. She was grateful for Ming’s friends. This was true loyalty. Loyalty that only existed among society’s dregs, when the rest of the world had turned its back on you.

  With fire in her veins, Yan launched her technique. The man didn’t try to block—it was clear he lacked the strength. He dodged left instead. Yan followed with two more Ember Darts, blasting him back and sending him sprawling to the ground. Remarkably, he retained hold of his spear, but it wouldn’t matter for long.

  Yan approached cautiously. His disciple robes were charred away around his upper right chest and left hip, revealing raw, red flesh. Good, she thought, but something about his silence unsettled her.

  He hadn’t screamed. Unlike the others she’d faced in the Dueling Pit, this one didn’t cry out. That wouldn’t do. After what he’d done, if anyone deserved to scream in agony, it was him.

  She considered where to burn him next. Not the head—too risky. Maybe the hand?

  “Stop it!” the darkness cultivator cried.

  Yan turned. The girl was already rising to her feet. Ruiwen surged forward, his mace raised. The girl conjured a shield of darkness just in time to block the blow, then countered with a shadow-forged staff that struck Ruiwen square in the head.

  She can still fight?

  But the victory was brief. Both of the girl’s constructs vanished, and she staggered forward, drenched in sweat. Yan checked on Ruiwen, who now bore a swelling bruise on his face—but he was furious and still standing.

  “Stupid martial school wench!” Ruiwen roared, advancing again.

  The girl’s shadow began to stir, but she couldn’t manifest a weapon.

  Then Yan saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

  No… impossible.

  The lightning cultivator had somehow gotten back up and was sprinting toward Ruiwen. Yan hurled another Ember Dart—but he didn’t even look her way. He ducked beneath Yun’s golden club and hurled his spear.

  Yan’s eyes widened. No!

  The weapon struck Ruiwen in the side, forcing a gasp of pain as he crumpled to his knees. Blood poured from the wound. Ruiwen pulled the spear free with a cry, dropping his mace and clutching the bleeding gap.

  The darkness cultivator fell to her knees, all strength gone. Yan could see relief on her face.

  “Bastard!” Yun shouted, his club crashing into the lightning cultivator and slamming him down. “You’ll pay for that!” he bellowed, striking again and again.

  “Don’t kill him!” Yan shouted, storming over.

  Yun paused. The lightning cultivator lay bruised and bloodied, shielding his face. “Why not?”

  “He’s mine,” Yan declared, voice trembling with fury. “Go check on Ruiwen. Kill the other one too!”

  Yun spat on the ground. “You’d better burn him. If Ruiwen dies because of this, you and I will have a problem.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she muttered. If a third person dies because of this monster, I’ll never forgive myself.

  She stood over the murderer, conjuring fire in her palm.

  The man lowered his arms, blood streaking his face—but his eyes held no fear. Only defiance.

  Yan’s lips curled in disgust. “Wipe that pride off your face. You’re going to die.”