Wen Ran and Xiao Mo moved swiftly, their steps light and calculated. The fog, thick and unnerving, clung to the air like a living thing, almost suffocating in its oppressive presence. The journey ahead weighed on Wen Ran's mind, but he couldn't afford to linger. The chaos he had just unleashed was a taboo, a crime against the very fabric of his world, and soon, the consequences would find him. The weight of what he had done gnawed at his chest, but he didn't dare let it slow him down. His master would not spare him—he knew that.
But even though the shadows of impending punishment loomed large, Wen Ran couldn't afford hesitation. He didn't care about returning to the sect anymore. The world had no place for him, not after the slaughter. No matter how well it was hidden, no matter how carefully he walked, the stench of death would follow him. Yet, in this moment, all he could focus on was getting away, moving quickly, hoping for a reprieve before the storm hit.
