A sharp, piercing scream tore through the air.
It wasn't fear.
It was agony.
So sudden. So raw. Linglong's voice split the tension in two, and every disciple nearby instinctively covered their ears, some even staggering back with blood trickling from their eardrums. A few dropped to their knees, clutching their heads.
Yun flinched. Even from a distance, her body curled as if the sound hit her chest directly. The elders reacted in various ways—some defensive, some aggressive—but only one of them moved toward Linglong.
The girl kept screaming.
Her hands clutched her head as if trying to rip something out. Her back arched unnaturally. Her feet scraped against the ground, heels digging lines into the dirt as if she were being dragged by something unseen.
The Cloudveil elder looked genuinely spooked now, stepping back despite himself. The Gentle Breeze elder readied his stance, one palm glowing, just in case.
"Linglong!" the Marquis elder barked again, louder this time, voice booming with rank 3 authority. "Snap out of it!"
But it was no use.
Linglong's eyes rolled back.
And then, suddenly—it stopped.
No scream. No movement. Just silence.
Her body dropped forward like a puppet whose strings had been cut, caught just in time by the Marquis elder.
After Linglong's scream faded into the heavy silence, a strange stillness lingered in the air, thick with unease.
The disciples slowly lowered their hands from their ears, blinking away the residual ringing. The faint, metallic taste of blood lingered in the air, a reminder of how close they had come to losing their sanity to that scream.
But those who had emerged from the secret realm—the ones who had experienced the horrors within—knew. They knew that scream. It had echoed through their memories, a sound that chilled them to their core. The scream, raw and unrestrained, was not unfamiliar. They had heard it before.
But none of them dared speak it.
Not in front of the Marquis elder. Not with the tension hanging in the air like a blade.
The disciples exchanged uneasy glances, but their lips remained sealed. They knew the weight of their silence. It was something they could not discuss—not openly, not yet. They had heard that scream in the depths of the secret realm, where something beyond their understanding had stirred. But speaking of it now would invite far too many questions, questions none of them were prepared to answer.
The Marquis elder, still holding Linglong's limp form, stood silently for a long moment. His eyes were cold, unreadable as he looked down at her.
Finally, with a voice that left no room for argument, he ordered, "Get her back to her quarters. Now."
The tension didn't immediately leave the air, but the heavy atmosphere seemed to shift as the disciples quietly began to move again. They had no choice but to follow the elder's command, but their minds were heavy with the unspoken knowledge of what they had heard.
Linglong's scream—no, it wasn't just a sound of pain. It was something else. Something terrifying. Something none of them wanted to confront.
But that scream… it would not be forgotten. And no matter how much they tried to bury it in their minds, the echo of it would linger, pressing against the edges of their thoughts. Just like the secrets of the secret realm.
And deep down, they all knew—there were things in the world that were better left unexplained.
As the disciples moved to take Linglong back to her quarters, the tension in the air didn't entirely dissipate. The Cloudveil Sect elder, his face flushed with frustration, stepped forward, his voice sharp.
"We are still not done questioning her!" he snapped, his eyes narrowing as he pointed toward Linglong's limp form. "The way she reacted—it's unusual! Maybe she knew what happened to Jiang Yu!"
The Marquis elder glanced at him, his expression cold but unreadable. He tightened his grip on Linglong's body, ready to move her, but something in the elder's tone made him hesitate.
Before he could respond, the Divine Sword Sect elder, who had been silent until now, spoke up.
His voice was low and heavy, tinged with sorrow. "Stop."
All eyes turned to him. The elder was standing rigid, his face a mask of grief, but his eyes betrayed his struggle. He had lost his heir. His precious heir—his nephew, Zhang. A loss that left him crippled in grief. Zhang wasn't just his heir, he was family. His nephew. The weight of that death had crushed him, leaving him in a state of numb disbelief, a gnawing emptiness in his chest that refused to go away.
But even in his grief, he knew what had to be done.
He needed the truth. Needed to know if Yun's account was genuine, if there was something more to Jiang Yu's death, something that could explain the mess they were in. And for that, Linglong was still the key.
"We still need her," the Divine Sword Sect elder continued, his voice rough with the weight of his decision. "You can't move her yet. Let's find out if Yun is telling the truth, once and for all."
The Marquis elder looked at the two of them—the Divine Sword Sect elder, stone-faced in his sorrow, and the Cloudveil elder, eyes still sharp with doubt.
Linglong trembled faintly in her arms, her expression contorted as if in agony. But the elder could see it—beneath the gasps and clenched jaw, that girl was conscious. Her pain might've been real, but her life wasn't slipping away.
No, Linglong knew what was happening. She knew they weren't letting her go until she gave them the answer they wanted.
So the Marquis elder lowered her head slightly, voice firm but low enough to slip beneath the weight of the moment. "Linglong," she said, "is what Yun said true?"
Linglong's body twitched. Her eyes barely opened. But then… a nod. Weak. Almost invisible—but it was there.
Both the Cloudveil and Divine Sword elders caught it. Yet even then, the disbelief remained in their eyes. The silence that followed was thick—too thick. One could already tell they weren't satisfied. Their lips parted again, ready to question further.
But the Marquis elder snapped.
Her voice cracked like thunder across the square.
"Shut the fuck up!"
The air quivered from the force behind her words. Dozens of disciples jumped, startled. Even the rank 2 cultivators nearby flinched.
She stepped forward, gaze burning with fury. Her spiritual pressure leaked, a dense, suffocating force that made the ground groan under her feet.
"If either of you speak another word, we're going to have a real problem."
Her hand slowly lifted and pointed between them, eyes like knives.
"My heir's life is on the line here. My heir. And you think I'll let you two run your mouths like your sons were the only ones who bled? Watch yourselves. Because trust me—keep pushing, and you won't be facing a tribunal."
Her voice dropped, quiet but venomous.
"You'll be facing war."
No one spoke after that.
Not a word.
The threat hung in the air like a blade.
After that, no one dared utter a single word—not even the most brazen of disciples. The atmosphere cracked under the tension, and without further delay, the Marquis family moved.
Their disciples and retainers silently helped their heir onto the boat, their movements efficient, tight with urgency but never disorderly. Some cast cautious glances at the others, but no one dared provoke another confrontation. Not after what had just been said.
Yun's sect followed shortly after, their elders exchanging brief nods before retreating. They didn't linger. They didn't gloat. They simply left, as if that silence was the final punctuation to everything Yun had revealed.
Only the Cloudveil Sect and the Divine Sword Sect remained behind.
They didn't move.
Couldn't.
Their disciples stood frozen, some still looking toward the now-empty direction of the departing boats, expressions stricken with disbelief.
The Divine Sword elder's hands trembled slightly at his sides. His nephew… his heir… Zhang was dead. Confirmed. No denial left. Not after Linglong's weak but unmistakable nod.
And the weight of it finally broke him.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
His scream tore through the sky.
It wasn't just anger. It was mourning. It was frustration. It was helplessness—every emotion he'd tried to contain now flooding out in a single, soul-ripping cry.
His spiritual energy exploded for a second, uncontained, blasting a crater into the ground at his feet. Dust scattered. The disciples around him flinched backward, terrified.
But no one moved to stop him.
Even the Cloudveil elder stayed silent, his jaw clenched tight, but no mockery in his eyes now. Just grief. Bitter and heavy.
The ruin was silent. The war was averted—for now. But the wounds it left would not heal easily.