The disciples reacted out of habit.

They drew their weapons and formed a loose line in front of the compound, their grips tight, eyes locked on the approaching figures.

The first skeleton reached them.

It didn’t slow down.

It didn’t react.

It just walked forward.

One of the younger clan member stepped in first, swinging his blade with a shout, trying to steady his nerves.

The strike landed cleanly.

The skeleton’s arm snapped off and fell to the ground.

For a split second, the clan member froze.

"...That’s it?" he said, almost surprised.

Relief flickered across his face.

"They’re weak!"

That gave the others courage. They moved in, blades swung, then bones cracked.

Skeletons fell apart under their strikes, collapsing into piles of scattered remains.

"See?!" one of them shouted. "They’re nothing!"

The elder didn’t relax.

His eyes stayed fixed forward. Because more were coming.

They kept walking.

Stepping over the broken bones of the ones that had already fallen, closing the distance without hesitation, without fear, without any sense of loss.

"Hold the line!" the elder ordered.

The disciples obeyed. They cut down the next wave, then the next.

But something began to change. Their breathing grew heavier, and their movements slowed.

Because no matter how many they cut down...

More replaced them.

A skeleton lunged clumsily, grabbing onto one clan member’s arm before he could pull back. Its grip was weak, but unexpected.

"What the—"

Before he could react, another one reached him from the side, then another.

They piled in. "Get them off!" he shouted, panic rising in his voice.

His companions rushed to help, slashing at the skeletons, breaking them apart, but the opening was already there.

More slipped through.

Another clan member was forced back, tripping as a skeleton crashed into him. He hit the ground hard, his weapon slipping from his hand.

"Wait—!"

A skeleton crawled onto him, its bony fingers clutching at his clothes, followed by another, and another.

The elder stepped forward and struck, shattering two of them instantly, but more took their place.

His expression changed. This wasn’t a fight, it was a tide.

"Fall back!" he shouted.

But it was too late.

The formation had already broken.

Once the line collapsed, the skeletons poured in through the gap, spilling into the compound like water through a cracked wall.

The disciples tried to regroup, but there was no space, no time.

They were surrounded.

"Elder!"

"Help!"

"Get back inside!"

The courtyard turned into chaos.

Weapons clashed against bone, cracking and breaking, but the skeletons didn’t stop. They didn’t hesitate, didn’t retreat, didn’t even react to damage unless they were completely destroyed.

One of the elders tried to run.

A skeleton caught his leg.

He stumbled.

Then disappeared beneath them.

The elder cut his way forward, his strikes still strong, still precise, but even he was being pushed back step by step.

His breathing grew heavier, and his robe was torn in places.

"...Damn it," he muttered.

He had underestimated it. Not their strength, but their number.

Another wave pushed in through the gate.

Then another.

The compound was no longer defensible.

"Retreat!" he shouted again, this time with no hesitation.

But fewer voices answered.

Some were already down.

Others were still fighting, trapped in the middle of it.

Within minutes, the small clan that tried to respond first...

Was completely overwhelmed.

And the skeletons didn’t stop.

They kept moving.

Spreading deeper into the district, carrying the panic further into the city, step by slow, uneven step.

Far from the chaos spreading through the city, high above the noise and fear, the Clear Water Sect remained quiet.

Too quiet.

Inside his private quarters, Sect Master Fuing sat cross-legged on a woven mat, his back straight, his hands resting lightly on his knees. The room was dim, lit only by a single oil lamp placed near the wall. The faint flame flickered, casting soft shadows that moved with the rhythm of his breathing.

Everything around him was still.

His senses were turned inward.

Again.

And again.

Trying to grasp something that always slipped just out of reach.

Qi.

Minutes passed.

Then longer, but still nothing.

Fuing’s brows slowly furrowed, the calm on his face breaking just slightly. His breathing became uneven for a moment before he exhaled and opened his eyes.

"...What’s lacking," he muttered quietly, his voice low in the empty room. "Why can I still not sense it?"

There was frustration there.

Not loud.

But deep.

He had reached the peak of his current stage long ago. His foundation was stable, his control refined, his experience far beyond most practitioners.

And yet...

That final step remained unreachable.

Across the entire region, many were stuck in the same place, circling the same invisible barrier, unable to step into the Qi Sense Stage no matter how much they trained or how long they waited.

Fuing closed his eyes again, as if trying once more.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

The sound broke the silence.

His eyes opened again, sharper this time.

"...Enter."

The door slid open, and one of the elders stepped in quickly. His expression was unusual, not calm, not composed.

Urgent.

"Sect Master," the elder said, bowing briefly. "There is a situation."

Fuing frowned slightly.

"At this hour?"

The elder hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

"...There are reports from the city," he said. "A large number of... skeletons."

Fuing’s expression didn’t change at first.

Then his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Skeletons?" he repeated.

The word sounded strange even as he said it.

"You’re saying our enemies have already reached the city gates?" His tone sharpened slightly, not anger, but focus.

If that were true, then this was no small matter.

The elder quickly shook his head.

"I don’t think that’s the case," he said. "From the reports, they are... weak. Extremely weak. Even small forces can deal with them."

Fuing stared at him for a moment, clearly not convinced.

"Weak?" he asked.

"Yes," the elder replied. "Some minor forces have already engaged them. They can be destroyed easily, but..."

He paused.

Fuing caught it immediately.

"But?" he pressed.

The elder’s expression tightened.

"There are too many," he said quietly. "And they don’t stop."

Silence settled between them for a brief moment.

Fuing slowly stood up, the movement smooth but deliberate. His robes shifted softly as his feet touched the ground, his posture straightening as his presence changed.

From a man in meditation...

To a sect master.

"...Interesting," he said, his voice calm again, but now carrying weight.

Monsters that’s skeletons.

Weak individually.

But overwhelming in number, and appearing out of nowhere.

"Let’s go," Fuing said, already stepping toward the door. "I want to see these... monsters myself."

The elder nodded immediately.

"Yes, Sect Master."

They left the room together, moving through the quiet halls of the sect. Disciples they passed along the way lowered their heads quickly, sensing something different in the air.

-----

The red light district had changed completely.

What was once filled with laughter, music, and careless voices was now tense, loud in a different way. Shouts replaced laughter, commands replaced teasing, and the flickering lantern lights now illuminated something far more unsettling.

Skeletons moved through the streets.

Slow, uneven, and relentless.

But they were no longer advancing freely.

Small forces from nearby clans, sects and groups had already gathered, forming defensive lines at key intersections, blocking the skeletons from pushing deeper into the city. Some stood on rooftops, throwing down attacks, while others held narrow streets, using the tight space to control the flow.

"Hold here!"

"Don’t let them spread!"

"Break their legs first!"

Weapons struck bone again and again, the sound sharp and dry as skeletons collapsed into pieces under repeated blows. Compared to trained fighters, these things were fragile, almost laughably so.

But the problem was never their strength.

It was their number.

Aiden crouched on the edge of a rooftop, his figure hidden in the shadows between two buildings, his presence completely suppressed. From his position, he could see almost the entire district below.

His eyes moved slowly, observing everything.

The formations.

The reactions.

The coordination.

"...Too bad," he murmured quietly. "The Clear Water Sect didn’t move." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

From what he could see, these were mostly minor forces. Small clans, wandering cultivators, hired guards. Enough to respond quickly, but not enough to represent true strength.

He leaned slightly forward, resting one arm on his knee as he continued watching.

"They’re handling it," he added under his breath. "Not clean, but not collapsing either."

Below, a group of fighters pushed forward together, cutting down a cluster of skeletons before they could gather into a larger wave. Another group held a choke point, preventing more from flooding into the main street.

It was messy, but effective.

Then, a sudden cheer broke out from one side of the street.

The sound didn’t fit the scene.

In the middle of tension and controlled panic, a cheer rose, loud and clear, cutting through the clash of weapons and the dull cracking of bones.

Aiden’s eyes narrowed slightly as he shifted his focus toward the source.

At the far end of the street, a man stepped forward. The way he walked carried a quiet confidence that didn’t belong to the chaos around him.

He didn’t draw a weapon.

He didn’t need one.

A skeleton lunged toward him, arms outstretched, its movements clumsy but direct.

The man didn’t dodge. Instead, he stepped in.

His fist moved, and fast.

A clean punch drove straight into the skeleton’s chest.

Crack.

The entire upper body shattered from the impact, ribs exploding outward as the force tore through it. The remains collapsed instantly, scattering across the ground.

There was no pause.

Another skeleton reached him from the side.

He turned slightly, his second punch landing even faster than the first.

Crack.