Choices and Consequences

Thunder Beneath Heaven

The last of the shrieks had faded into silence.

What remained of the city lay smothered in smoke and ruin, its towers cracked and walls scorched. Corpses littered the streets—some whole, others shattered by magic and fire, their blood soaked into the cobblestones. Survivors staggered through the wreckage in a daze, weeping or silent, wounded or numbed by loss.

Mo Yuan stood atop the remnants of the eastern rampart, his white robes stained with soot and ash. His sword hung loosely at his side, its light dimming. The fire in his eyes had not yet burned out.

A faint tremor beneath his feet—so soft a mortal would never feel it—made him pause.

It wasn't an earthquake. It was a ripple.

A surge.

Brief. Faint. But unmistakable.

Divine power.

Beside him, Ye Hua straightened. His brows drew together, his golden gaze scanning the horizon as if trying to pierce through the veil of smoke.

"You felt it too," he said.

Mo Yuan nodded slowly. "Only for a moment. It was... veiled. Masked."

"Do you think it was one of them?"

"No. Whatever it was, it didn't come from the demon clan. It was something else."

Ye Hua glanced at the ruins below them. "There's no trace of it left."

Mo Yuan's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't like mysteries. And he especially didn't like power that could hide from him.

Still, it had been too fleeting to track. The scent had vanished as swiftly as it appeared.

He sheathed his sword. "Leave it, for now."

Ye Hua hesitated, then nodded. "And the rest?"

Mo Yuan turned to his disciples—Kunlun warriors moving through the streets, tending to the wounded, carrying the dead, restoring what little could be restored.

"Tell them to stay. Clean what can be cleaned. Heal what can be healed. See to the orphans and the old. The war is done here, but the suffering will linger."

Ye Hua gave the orders, his voice ringing with quiet command.

The Kunlun disciples bowed and set to work with solemn purpose. Even their presence seemed to bring peace, their white robes like threads of light through the smoke.

But then—

CRACK

Thunder split the sky with the force of a celestial war drum.

Not natural thunder. Not storm-born.

Divine.

Mo Yuan's eyes snapped upward.

Ye Hua went still. Then he said, softly, "Grandfather."

Another boom followed, deeper, like the growl of a beast roused from slumber.

And then, the twin dragons disappeared.

⸻

They reappeared at the South Gate of the Nine Heavens, the wind howling around the great pillars that guarded the threshold to the divine realm.

The sky here was crystalline, cloudless, eternal—untouched by mortal conflict. But even in this pure realm, the air was heavy with tension.

Without a word, they crossed the gate.

White-robed guards stepped aside. They had no authority to stop the God of War and the Crown Prince of the Celestials.

The Grand Hall of the Nine Heavens loomed ahead, carved from starlight and jade, its ceiling painted with the stories of creation.