"However, from what I recall, when you first came to Serene Mirror Lake, you already surpassed Kael in raw strength. That alone speaks to a remarkable physical cultivation talent and insightful understanding."
Elder Azel remarked, watching Ethan with a sharp, assessing gaze.
"No wonder the Empress herself took notice—she nearly named you the Saint’s protector. Such ability is rare, Ethan. You can truly be called a genius among your generation."
Ethan gave a polite, self-effacing smile, one well worn by a decade of survival.
"Elder Azel, you flatter me. I was only lucky today. If I hadn’t guessed the controller’s location when I did, you’d likely be collecting my corpse right now instead."
He even let his shoulders slump, the picture of humble exhaustion.
Life, he mused, was a stage, everyone wore masks as they played their part.
He certainly wasn’t about to reveal the full truth of his power to even a seemingly well-meaning elder. There were elders and true monsters in the sect—he knew enough to keep his head bowed and his hands hidden.
Azel’s attention sharpened, and his words turned searching.
"Which peak did this corpse controller belong to? Did you ever cross paths or offend him before tonight?"
Ethan shook his head sincerely.
"This disciple has spent the last ten years within the bounds of the Serene Mirror Lake, never stepping beyond it nor having any major disputes from before exile." He produced the token he’d taken from the man’s body.
"When I checked his belongings, I found his disciple token: he’s of Voidshade Peak, named Alex. Here is the evidence."
Azel took the token and examined it before handing it back.
"You’d best hold onto this for any future investigation. Don’t worry—no one will accuse you of wrongdoing, you acted in self-defense. This was a matter of life and death, and the one who created this trouble brought his own ruin upon himself. I’ll report it to the Law Enforcement Hall myself."
Ethan bowed deeply, genuine gratitude flickering in his expression.
"Thank you for your understanding, Elder. I am sincerely thankful."
Azel gave a fleeting wave.
"A trivial matter, truly. But the yin energy here is growing more intense—you should leave and rest quickly."
His tone was light, but he watched Ethan for a long extra moment, his mind clearly troubled as the younger man slipped into the veiled gloom.
Azel’s thoughts churned as he stood in the sea of broken corpses.
It’s almost unbelievable... To become this powerful—through nothing but body refinement, alone and no resources after being exiled to the Mirror Lake!
He shook his head again, regret and a strange sort of envy creeping in, as he watched Ethan’s figure disappear into the mist.
If only things had turned out differently, Azel reflected. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novel(ꜰ)ire.net
Imagine if the Empress had welcomed him into the inner sect as protector. The sect would have cultivated him with every resource, every secret. He’d be leading the Azure Origin Dao Sect’s younger generation by now. No wonder the Empress valued him.
It was a shameful thing, Azel decided—a true pity, that a trivial matter had forced Ethan into reflection and misery for fifty years. The circumstances of his so-called "crime" were always suspect to Azel, even in the beginning.
Ethan, just a ten year old orphan thrust into the world of cultivators, accused of peeping—did he truly have the cunning for such acts? Or had the sect simply needed a scapegoat? Azel’s doubts, buried for a decade, resurfaced now with force.
Yet he dared not utter them aloud—not in the Azure Origin Dao Sect where the Empress’s will was law, and even a stray whisper could mark a man for retribution. Some truths, he reminded himself, must remain silent.
Azel sighed, rubbing his beard.
"Who can know the Empress’s motives, or the true plan behind her decrees..." he whispered, finally turning away from the tomb. Normally, a lowly punished disciple’s business wasn’t his concern. But Ethan had impressed him.
With this kind of growth, he’ll leave the Mirror Lake before long—and when that happens, a dragon will truly emerge from the depths.
Perhaps this small act of support, Azel mused, would bear fruit. Cultivators played the long game—a single favor now might yield an invincible ally down the line.
For Ethan, the elder’s attitude was a mild curiosity, nothing more. Sects were built on subtle deals, debts, unspoken scrip. There was only one thing on Ethan’s mind as he retraced his steps out of the suffocating tomb: practice, and grow stronger.
Tonight had clawed new tension into his nerves.
It was the first true crisis he’d faced in years—proof that the world had not forgotten him, and that his exile was neither as peaceful nor as overlooked as he’d thought. The pieces were moving again. Someone—or perhaps many someones—wanted him gone.
"Voidshade Peak, eh?" A bitter, wolfish smile tugged at Ethan’s lips as he walked.
"If that’s all they’ve got, bringing a dog like Alex and his ’hundreds of corpses,’ then it’s hardly enough for a warm-up."
He left the tombs behind, intentionally cutting through the routes most patrolled by Law Enforcement disciples.
The idea was simple: keep himself visible, keep up appearances, and, perhaps most of all, see how people reacted now that there was blood on the ground.
He soon bumped into Jake, the law enforcement disciple who’d earlier reminded him about his tomb duties. Jake’s face turned the color of cold ashes when he spotted Ethan strolling toward him—shock plain as sunrise. It was the look of a man seeing not just another disciple, but perhaps a ghost.
Ethan arched an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes.
"Why are you so surprised to see me, Jake?"