Kael exhaled, his breath clouding in the cold, the Lotus Flame calming within his dantian. He studied the fallen, noting the black robes with twin crimson spirals on their chests—marks of the Ghost Lotus Sect, a rogue faction infamous for hunting ancient legacies.
They knew of the Lotus, drawn by the scroll's primal qi, a beacon to those who craved its secrets. Kael resumed his trek, his steps slower, eyes scanning the storm for more threats.
The Sect's presence meant others would follow, their greed a flame that burned brighter than fear.
Three days later, the mountains turned crueler, their peaks shrouded in relentless blizzards. Kael abandoned the high paths, descending into a ravine where ice-crusted roots twisted through jagged rocks like frozen veins.
The wind fell silent, muffled by steep cliffs, but the quiet offered no safety—only a sense of being watched. No beasts roamed, no birds called, the ravine devoid of life, its stillness heavy with ancient menace.
