Cultivation starts with picking up attributes
Chapter 122: Ch-122: I grieve them too

Chapter 122: Ch-122: I grieve them too

The descent from Clouded Ember Village was slow and quiet. Mist clung to their robes, as if reluctant to release them back into the world.

Tian Shen led the way down the spiraling crystal bridge, his expression unreadable.

Feng Yin walked silently beside him, wind brushing strands of her hair across her face.

Little Mei rode on his shoulder again, ears alert, tails twitching. Drowsy flew above them, quiet.

None of them spoke much.

Something felt wrong.

Too quiet.

When they reached the mountain range bordering the Feilun Sect, Tian Shen activated a transmission stone to announce their return but no response came.

Feng Yin frowned.

"Even Jun Lin should’ve replied by now."

"The outer formations of our base are down," Tian Shen said flatly. "Even the protective formation are missing."

"That shouldn’t be possible unless—"

He was already moving.

By the time they reached the mountain overlooking Feilun Sect, they all stopped in place.

The Sect was still there.

But it wasn’t whole.

Smoke curled from the outer halls. The once-bright protection arrays were broken and dull.

The library tower had collapsed. One of the watchtowers still smoldered, its ward glyphs scorched into silence. The training fields were stained dark.

"...No," Feng Yin whispered.

They moved as one, descending with speed no longer measured in leisure. Little Mei summoned a blast of wind with her tails and launched herself forward, Drowsy vanishing into a trail of golden light.

The first body they found was Yi Fen’s.

He had died standing.

Back pressed against a shattered pillar, sword still embedded in the chest of a horned warlock. Burned talismans lay at his feet, scorched fingers blackened from overuse.

He’d fought until the last breath.

Feng Yin knelt beside him. Her fingers trembled as she closed his eyes.

Further in, they found Jun Lin.

Collapsed against a staircase, his halberd cracked but soaked in blood not his own.

Around him lay a ring of bodies—cultivators

cloaked in foreign sect robes.

Tian Shen didn’t say a word. He stepped past them, face cold, eyes harder than steel.

In the courtyard of the Scout Division, there were no survivors.

Every single one of them had fallen in place.

Xu Wei’s body was the last they found.

Slumped beneath a fallen roof beam, charred fingers still wrapped around the remains of a detonated wine talisman.

His robes were half-burned, but the shimmer of his final enchantment still flickered weakly over his body.

A line of spiritual fire had carved a perimeter around him, likely to keep more powerful intruders at bay. Even in death, Xu Wei had turned mischief into defense.

"He sang something stupid while fighting..."

Little Mei said numbly.

"I bet he did."

Feng Yin didn’t speak.

She just stood there. Silent. Motionless.

Tian Shen’s gaze scanned the courtyard. It wasn’t a slaughter.

It was a war.

Whoever came, they were powerful. Organized. And cruel.

And the Scout Division had held.

Every single one of them had held.

Even as they fell.

Drowsy let out a single, piercing cry that echoed across the broken halls. The clouds above churned.

Tian Shen finally spoke.

"Bury them with their blades. All of them."

Little Mei nodded without speaking. Feng Yin still hadn’t moved. Her fists were clenched so tightly blood trickled from her palm.

As they began the grim task of cleaning and preparing their fallen, they found something else.

A stone tablet, half-scorched, etched with Xu Wei’s messy handwriting.

’We did our best, boss.’

Tian Shen stared at it for a long time.

Then he picked up Xu Wei’s broken fan.

His voice was calm when he finally spoke again.

"Whoever did this thinks they broke something. But they didn’t."

He looked to the wreckage, the blood, the brave dead.

"They lit a fire."

He turned, eyes like midnight thunder.

"And we’ll answer."

...

The funeral pyres lit the night sky with golden flames.

There were no mourners beyond them. No audience.

Only the wind, the quiet chant of memory rites, and the crackle of fire against wood and flesh.

They buried Yi Fen near the Guardian Pillars. Jun Lin beside the eastern terrace where he once trained recruits. Xu Wei—beneath the orchard, where he’d once tried to make spirit wine explode into edible fireworks.

Tian Shen oversaw every detail. Feng Yin wrote every name into the Sect Ledger herself, her calligraphy steady despite the tremor in her heart. Little Mei sat in silence, tails wrapped tight around her as if to contain her grief.

Only Drowsy refused to be still.

She soared high, again and again, leaving glowing rings of Qi in the air above the burning grounds. She let the heavens know.

These fallen would not be forgotten.

When the last of the flames died down, Tian Shen gathered the ashes.

...

The Hall of Discipline stood mostly untouched.

A cruel irony.

While the Scout Division had been reduced to ash and ruin, the central administrative building of the Feilun Sect remained pristine—its ivory walls unmarred, its gold inlays untouched by war or grief.

The main conference chamber was lit by gentle spirit lanterns, soft incense curling into the high ceiling like a prayer with no answer.

Tian Shen stood in its center.

He had bathed. Changed robes. Braided his hair.

But he still looked like a storm bottled into a human form.

Feng Yin stood behind him, her expression smooth and distant, a mask of serene decorum she only ever wore when she wanted to murder someone but couldn’t yet justify it publicly.

Little Mei was uncharacteristically quiet, seated cross-legged on Tian Shen’s shoulder, tails still, ears down.

Elder Su arrived first, walking in with slow steps. Her expression was heavy, lined with vast stress. But there was something distant in her eyes, something calculating.

"Tian Shen..."

She murmured.

Bowing, he queried.

"I returned to find the Scout Division gone."

Elder Su did not flinch.

"Incidents happen."

Tian Shen didn’t answer.

Then the doors at the far end opened again, and the Sect Master entered with the other Feilun elders—each a cultivator of great power and standing. They were figures of tradition, of age, of doctrine.

And as Tian Shen turned to face them, he realized they were utterly untouched by what had happened.

He bowed stiffly.

"Honored Elders. Sect Master."

Sect Master Qiu raised his hand in acknowledgment. His robes shimmered with high-grade celestial silk, his spiritual pressure restrained but immense.

"Rise, Tian Shen. We were just informed of your return. You have our condolences."

Tian Shen rose.

"Then allow me to report."

The room fell silent as he spoke—calm, clear, but with a blade behind every word.

He spoke of the broken formations. Of the missing wards. Of the organized strike against the Scout Division. Of the fallen. Yi Fen, Jun Lin, Xu Wei, and the rest. All dead.

Feng Yin placed a detailed scroll on the table—names, timestamps, formation analysis. Everything was documented.

When he finished, Sect Master Qiu sighed.

"A tragic loss."

A pause.

"But not catastrophic," said Elder Lei, an older man with a silver beard and deep, sunken eyes. "The main Sect body remains untouched. The core disciples are safe. The treasury is intact. The inheritance hall unbreached."

Tian Shen’s eyes narrowed.

"Elder Lei," Feng Yin said softly, "forty-seven lives were lost. They were core members of the Scout Division."

"They were scouts," Elder Lei replied. "Useful. Loyal. But ultimately, field assets. Their loss is regrettable, but the Sect remains whole."

"They died protecting it," one elder complied.

"Indeed. An honorable death," another elder chimed in.

Tian Shen stared at them, one by one.

"You didn’t even send a transmission warning. Why?"

"The battle was swift," Sect Master Qiu said. "We didn’t have time."

Elder Su offered carefully.

"We were prioritizing inner sect integrity. Communications had to be routed through internal systems. It was chaos."

The room grew tense.

"Tian Shen," Elder Lei warned, "you shouldl remember your place."

"My place..."

Tian Shen said, voice dangerously low.

"was with them, Honourable Elder."

Feng Yin touched his arm gently. A signal. Not now.

But Tian Shen’s next words came quietly, and every elder heard them.

"If it were the Core Disciples or us who were attacked, would we be having this conversation?"

No one answered.

Elder Jian finally broke the silence, brushing his sleeve with a sigh.

"We finished off the last of the invaders shortly after they breached the inner ring. Their leader, with every invader was executed."

Elder Su stepped forward, her voice gentler than before.

"We avenged them, Tian Shen. The Sect responded. You weren’t here, but we didn’t stay idle."

Tian Shen didn’t look at her. Not right away. His jaw tightened.

"You avenged the loss. But you didn’t stop it."

Elder Su hesitated—then placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"You think I don’t grieve them too?"

Her voice wavered—just a little.

"You’re angry. Good. But don’t burn alone in it."

Tian Shen finally met her gaze.

"I don’t plan to burn, Elder Su."

He turned to the elders.