Kazel stretched as he sat up, a yawn escaping his lips while the gentle chirping of birds filled the morning air. Sunlight peeked through the wooden window, casting warm golden hues across the room. For a moment, everything felt peaceful—until he stepped into the living room.
There, seated across from each other, were his parents, both wearing expressions that didn't sit well with him. Lana, in particular, had a look of barely contained fury, while Noel simply sighed, rubbing his temple.
Lana turned to him, her voice laced with concern. "Dear, I know that Salma's betrayal must have been a shock, but there are plenty of girls out there, and not all of them are as treacherous as that—"
"Just say it," Noel cut in, clearly exhausted.
Lana huffed before spitting out the words through clenched teeth. "That little bitch."
Kazel blinked. Then, he blinked again.
For the first time in this world, something had genuinely taken him aback. His mother—gentle, refined, and nurturing—had just cursed with venom in her voice.
A moment of silence passed before Kazel burst into laughter. "Mother… I never thought I'd hear you say something like that."
Lana crossed her arms, clearly unamused. "What? You think I'd stay silent after what she did to you?"
Kazel smirked. "Don't worry, Mother. I've already set my eyes on someone else."
Noel, who had been silently observing, suddenly leaned forward. "Oi, oi, and you didn't think to tell your old man?"
Kazel waved a dismissive hand. "It's not that important, Father."
"Oh, but it is," Lana interjected, eyes narrowing in amusement. "I mean, whoever she is, she's eventually going to call me 'Mother'—"
"Alright, alright, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Kazel quickly cut her off. "More importantly, how is Old Fu?"
Noel scoffed, leaning back against his chair. "Alive. But his lips are fuming."
Lana's gaze darkened, her fingers tapping against the table in a slow rhythm. "That bastard will die a slow death."
Kazel leaned back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'll leave Old Fu to you, Mother. Do as you see fit."
Lana grinned, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her teacup. "Oh, I plan to." The way she said it sent a chill through the room—not to Kazel, but to Noel, who knew better than to question the wrath of his wife.
Brushing aside the conversation of vengeance, Kazel straightened. "I want to be ready for the Scale Dalgona. How many days are left?"
"Less than two months," Noel answered, arms crossed. "But with the invitation in hand, your spot is secured, Kazel. You just need to make sure you're ready."
Lana's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Make sure you win, alright? I want to see the look on that bitch's face when you stand victorious!"
Kazel coughed, slightly taken aback by how personally invested his mother was. "A-Alright, Mother, I'll do my best."
Then, his tone shifted, growing more serious. "But Scale Dalgona isn't just about proving myself. It'll be a stage—a momentum for the return of the Immortal Sect."
Noel's expression hardened, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced with the sharp gaze of a leader. "If you're going all in for this, then I will too."
"All three of us," Lana added, her voice unwavering.
A slow, confident grin formed on Kazel's lips. "Then after that, I'll begin recruiting people of my choice." His gaze burned with ambition. "The rise of the Immortal Sect is nigh. And with it—the emergence of me."
---
Days turned to weeks, and weeks bled into months. Within the heart of the Rising Stone Sect, Patriarch Weh sat at the head of a grand council table, surrounded by his elders. The flickering lanterns cast long shadows over his face, accentuating the displeasure in his sharp gaze. His eyes were heavy—not with anger, but with questions demanding answers.
"Has anyone seen Old Fu?" Weh's voice cut through the murmuring chamber like a blade.
The elders exchanged glances, hesitant yet knowing. None of them had anything solid to say—only fragmented whispers and scattered suspicions.
Finally, one of them broke the silence. "I have not seen him in weeks, Patriarch. The last confirmed sighting was... under your direct order, when he left to visit the Soul Rot boy—Kazel."
Weh's fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair. "And after that? Nothing?"
Another elder cleared his throat. "Some of us tried prying into the matter, but we were met with fierce resistance from Lana."
Weh scoffed, his lips curling in disdain. "She is just a woman, for gods' sake. What did she say?"
The elder hesitated. "She claimed she had no idea where Old Fu had gone. We also encountered Noel, but he feigned ignorance as well, saying that Old Fu left after administering another dose of 'medicine' to help Kazel's meridians."
( Did he know? ) Weh thought to himself, his mind churning. ( If so, since when? And why hasn't he made a move? )
His fingers clenched into a fist before relaxing. "And the boy?"
Elder Faiz scoffed. "We've seen him around the market from time to time. Leisurely strolling, enjoying life—without a care in the world."
( So, Kazel is still alive. ) Weh's expression darkened.
Shaking off his unease, he leaned forward. "How are the preparations for the Scale Dalgona?"
A more confident voice answered. "Salma has progressed as expected. Just yesterday, she broke through to the Ninth Level of the Body Tempering Realm. She is ready."
Weh's lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Perfect. The final round will be between the new lovers—Salma and Yuanggai. Their match will strengthen the ties between our sects."
The elders nodded in agreement, though an unspoken tension hung in the air.
As the meeting continued, Weh forced himself to ignore the lingering unease in his gut. Old Fu was missing. Kazel was still alive. And Lana and Noel…
After the council meeting dispersed, Elder Faiz strode through the sect halls with a grim expression. Something gnawed at him—Old Fu's disappearance, Kazel's continued existence, and now, a lingering sense of unease about the upcoming tournament. He needed to be sure everything was in place.
Reaching the disciple quarters, he stepped in front of Salma's room and knocked. "Salma, I need a word."
Silence.
His brows furrowed. He knocked again, harder this time. "Salma, this isn't the time to be ignoring me!"
Still no response. His patience wearing thin, he turned to the passing disciples outside. His sharp gaze settled on a nervous-looking one. "Where is Salma?"
The disciple stiffened under Faiz's piercing gaze before quickly answering, "S-She went to the market, Elder."
Faiz's entire expression darkened. "And you didn't stop her?!"
The disciple flinched. "B-But Elder, she is Salma... she does as she pleases."
"Tch!" Faiz clicked his tongue in frustration. He wanted to curse the boy's stupidity but knew full well that the disciple was right. Salma had always done as she pleased, but today of all days, it was dangerous for her to be outside.
Without another word, he shoved the disciple aside and stormed out of the sect, his robes fluttering with urgency.
His mind raced as his feet carried him swiftly towards the market.
---
Meanwhile, amidst the lively chatter and the aroma of sizzling street food, Salma walked leisurely through the bustling market. Her sharp eyes wandered over the various stalls, but her mind was elsewhere.
There was a part of her that had been restless lately, a creeping feeling in her gut that something was off. It wasn't just the tournament drawing near—it was the silence from Kazel.
She had expected him to be dead.
No, she knew he was supposed to be dead.
Yet, here she was, living her days as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't played a role in signing his fate.
She shook her head. ( It doesn't matter. Even if he's alive, he is nothing now. )
And then she saw him.
Amongst the sea of people, standing casually like he owned the very ground he walked on—Kazel.
Her breath hitched.
Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the young man she recognized most in this world.
He was supposed to be gone. Forgotten. Buried under the weight of his own weakness.
Yet here he was. Alive. Smirking at her as if he knew something she didn't.
"Kazel…" her lips parted, barely a whisper.
And Kazel?
He simply smirked.