As Tian regained his footing, he tried to wrap his mind around what he’d just seen. His father used to be that powerful. The man who now struggled to keep a simple cultivation had once had the power to effortlessly erase demons from existence. And he’d sacrificed all of that to bring Tian into the world.

  “Tian!” Hou’s voice sounded relieved and worried at the same time. “Are you hurt? What happened to the demon?”

  “My father’s amulet killed it,” Tian said, looking at the spot where the creature had been unmade. “Hou, we have to—”

  An earth-shattering roar shook the mining complex.

  The sound came from the largest cave.

  The demon hadn’t been alone.

  The shadow wolves scurried away in terror as something massive and angry charged towards them.

  “There are more,” Hou said gravely, pulling his sword as the ground shook again. “Your father’s amulet worked last time, but—”

  “But it’s exhausted now,” Tian filled in. “We have to go.”

  And with that, they took off.

  Terrain worked against them as they dodged crumbling structures and rusty machinery while something the size of a house chased after them. Tian’s freshly recovered body complained about the exertion, but adrenaline continued to drive him forward as they desperately fled toward the valley mouth.

  “Look,” Hou pointed to a thin trail that wound up the east side of the ridge. “If we can get to higher ground, maybe we can—”

  A second demon burst forth from the mines like some sort of wrathful divine creation. This one resembled a cross between a dragon and a nightmare, with scales that reflected colors impossible to describe. Fortunately, its spiritual pressure was significantly less than its predecessor, it seemed to be at the Thoughtshaper realm, but even that was behind their ability to deal with.

  They nearly made it.

  The trail was steeper than it looked from the base, and Tian’s legs began to cramp as they climbed toward what they hoped would be safety. Behind them, the demon’s roars drew closer, accompanied by the sounds of the destruction of rock as it carved a straight path up the hillside.

  “Just a little farther,” Hou panted, his face red with exhaustion. “I think I can see the top of the ridge.”

  But before they made another bend in the trail, Tian lost his footing on the loose gravel. He fought to catch himself, but he ended up looking back at the demon as it burst onto the trail beneath them, its eyes locked on their position.

  Without hesitation, Hou positioned himself between Tian and the incoming threat.

  “Go,” he said, putting himself into a fighting stance that would have made Master Jian proud. “Get the word to the other villages. Get Master.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Tian argued, straining to regain his footing.

  “Yes, you are,” Hou replied calmly, and with the same confidence he’d displayed during countless minor crises. “One of us has to live long enough to report this. You still have remnants of that defensive energy. Go!”

  The demon arrived before Tian could continue arguing.

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  Hou met its charge with everything Master Jian had ever taught him regarding timing, distance, and how to use superior technique to counteract overwhelming power. For roughly ten seconds, his blade scored cuts along the creature’s muzzle and caused it to respect his positioning.

  Then the demon’s tail lashed out at an angle that couldn’t be avoided.

  Tian watched in horror as Hou flew through the air, his body tracing a beautiful arc as he sailed over the ridge and dropped into the deep valley below. The sound of Hou’s body impacting against the earth echoed off the distant cliffs, followed by endless silence.

  “Hou,” Tian screamed, completely forgetting anything about stealth or self-preservation.

  The demon turned to look at Tian with obvious satisfaction, its eyes shining with anticipation of finishing its prey. However, before it could take a step, the air around it began to quiver with a different type of power altogether.

  Master Jian emerged from the boulders atop the trail with his plain sword already swinging.

  What followed wasn’t much of a battle; it was more of a demonstration of the huge difference between competence and mastery. The demon found itself unable to attack an opponent that didn’t appear to be anywhere near its strikes, while Master Jian’s blade consistently found the weak spots that shouldn’t exist.

  The killing blow came from below, slanting upward through an opening in the creature’s armor that cleanly decapitated it. The head went flying off the cliff while the body fell to the ground.

  “Where’s Hongyun?” Master Jian asked as he wiped his sword.

  “He went over the edge,” Tian said, his voice flat. “He fell into the valley because the demon knocked him off. We have to save him. We have to —”

  Master Jian walked to the edge of the trail and stared down into the valley. There was a slight sagging to his shoulders, but otherwise, he maintained his neutral demeanor.

  “Master?” Tian stood at the edge of the trail, fearing what he would see.

  The valley floor was likely approximately five hundred feet below the trail, rough, and unforgiving. No human could survive a fall like that, regardless of how skilled they might be. But the worst part was what lay between them and the valley floor: a maze of crevices and unstable ground that emitted the spiritual energy of beings that shouldn’t exist.

  “The Thornwood Deep,” Master Jian said quietly. “I should have realized sooner. The demons weren’t random, they were fleeing from something worse, something that would make even the most capable Dream Architect look like a child.”

  “But Hou might still be alive,” Tian insisted, although his voice broke on the words. “If he’s wounded and needs help —”

  Master Jian turned to look at him, and for the first time in five years, the swordsman’s composure showed cracks.

  “Tian,” he said, “I’m sorry. No one under Lucid Lawbearer level has any chance of surviving there. The creatures that inhabit the Deep would see a Oneiric Sovereign as a snack.”

  “Then we get help,” Tian said. “We’ll find someone with the right cultivation. We —”

  “We won’t,” Master Jian said decisively. “Even if Hongyun managed to survive the fall, which he didn’t, mounting a rescue would require resources we can’t access and time we don’t have. This entire region will become unstable because of the demon invasion. We need to alert the appropriate authorities and evacuate the civilian population.”

  Tian glared at his teacher, unable to accept what he was hearing. “You’re giving up on him.”

  “I’m accepting reality,” Master Jian replied. “Hongyun knew the risks when he decided to give you time to escape. He made a warrior’s decision, and he deserves more than to have his sacrifice squandered on a futile attempt to rescue him.”

  Their argument was brief and fierce.

  Tian shouted, pleaded, and eventually threatened to try to rescue Hou on his own. Master Jian remained unyielding, pointing out practical realities with the same detached analysis he applied to sword techniques.

  When they set up their camp for the night, both were exhausted from their grief and anger.

  Tian sat by the fire, staring at flames that reminded him of nights just like this one where they would sit and talk about anything and everything. The five years they spent together, the dangers they experienced, the small victories they achieved, they were all gone. All gone because he lost his footing and his friend decided to play the hero to save him.

  The loss weighed heavily on him, but beneath that grief, something else was beginning to stir. A cold sense of certainty that was unrelated to his conscious thought, forming from depths he’d forgotten existed.

  When Master Jian woke the next day, he found Tian sitting cross-legged, lost in meditation, but what was unusual were the silver wisps of energy that swirled around him. He knew what this was – a cultivation breakthrough.

  “Tian?” he called out softly.

  Tian opened his eyes, and they contained something new. They didn’t contain the blank stare of a traumatized person, but rather the focused awareness of someone who’d finally remembered something important.

  “I can dream,” he said simply. “I can finally dream.”

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