CHAPTER 34: CHAPTER 34

When Jake saw Ethan walking toward him, his stomach clenched with alarm.

In spite of his supposed position and the emblem of the Law Enforcement Hall on his robes, he felt small before the man exiled by sect decree.

Ethan’s faint, easygoing smile was as chilling as a winter breeze down an empty mountain pass—it reminded Jake exactly why older disciples at the lake never dared cross him. Still, Jake steeled himself.

I’m a Law Enforcement Hall disciple now, he told himself.

I can’t lose face in front of the punished, not even this so-called demon.

He straightened, face forced into neutrality, and addressed Ethan with all the rigid authority he could muster.

"Disciples exiled to Serene Mirror Lake are, per the rules, required to enter the Ancestral Tomb and spend six full hours every day cleaning the tombs. In front of the souls of our sect’s fallen heroes, exiles must accept the yin energy’s bite—to atone for what they have done."

Jake scowled, projecting the weight of the law.

"But you haven’t even been in the tomb an hour today. I saw you coming out almost as soon as you went in. How could I not be surprised, seeing a punished disciple like you flouting Law Enforcement Hall’s rules so openly?"

He let the words hang for a moment, letting the tone and the watching crowd carry his dignity. "So arrogant—so confident, you ignore every rule of the sect?"

Jake’s closing sentence was heavy with self-importance, as if he stood not before one man but the entire weight of sect tradition.

The exchange swiftly drew attention. Disciples nearby—some who still remembered what happened yesterday, others who’d just heard rumors—paused in their steps.

Some watched from doorways or behind thin windows, snickering among themselves, currency of amusement in their eyes.

Many remembered Ethan using a single leaf to crush two Core Formation inner disciples not a day before.

Jake, bold or foolish as he was, seemed unaware—or had chosen to gamble.

Moments before, no Law Enforcement disciple ever dared challenge Ethan about his duties or even question him.

He was free to wander, fish, or work at his leisure, knowing his own might was protection enough.

But this new group, new batch, it seemed, was either too new or too ambitious to heed the unspoken warnings of seasoned exiles.

Ethan’s eyes lidded slightly, his calm broken only by the faintest edge of a smile.

"Are you done?" His voice purred through the tension, inviting Jake to fill the silence with bravado.

Jake tried to swallow the knot in his throat but managed to steady himself. "I’m done," he said curtly.

There was a little shake in his words.

Ethan’s posture remained casual, shadows flickering across his face as the night deepened over the lake.

He looked around as if giving the crowd leave to go. Many of the watching disciples took his silent cue, quietly slipping away to their huts. Even the most curious backed into the darkness, but from cracks in windows, from gaps behind curtains, eyes stayed riveted to the unfolding spectacle.

Now, only the flickering torchlight remained, casting grotesque shadows across Jake’s face.

The sun had set fully, and the world was steeped in ink.

Jake’s junior brothers, the Law Enforcement Law disciples ,holding torches behind, shifted uncomfortably in the shadows.

Jake’s attempt at composure lasted seconds more.

Suddenly, a cold wind brushed past—a blur, faster than memory. The next thing he knew, the haft of Ethan’s blue scythe was pressed against his throat, not enough to break skin but enough to jolt him with terror and despair.

His junior brothers collapsed where they stood, knocked clean out—struck faster than a blink, with a force and precision that defied belief.

Jake found himself frozen, breath catching.

The blue Moonflood Scythe gleamed in the night’s faint light, its curved blade shining with a cold, hungry gleam.

The runes on it pulsed, and where it pressed against Jake’s neck, a line of blood beaded at the surface.

The blade itself felt heavier, more real and immediate, than any threat Jake had ever faced before.

He stammered, his bravado shattered.

Jake had entered the Law Enforcement Hall as a team leader, confident in the reputation of the Voidshade Peak behind him. But now, all that support felt distant and useless.

Ethan had no spiritual roots, no resources, had endured daily agony at the lake’s edge—how could he be this strong? Jake hadn’t seen the movement that felled him. He began to understand why so many older disciples whispered never to cross the fisherman by the mist.

"Say what you have to say... can you, perhaps, lower the scythe?" Jake whispered, voice trembling, sweat budding along his hairline.

Ethan’s tone was glacial, matter-of-fact. "I have questions. Answer them honestly and you’ll walk away."

Jake’s voice shook. "Y-yes, Eth... Senior Brother Ethan. Ask."

Ethan let the tension linger, then calmly began the interrogation.

"When did you join the Law Enforcement Hall?"

"Two months ago."

"Which peak did you hail from before that?"

"Voidshade Peak, Voidshade Peak, I swear!" Jake’s words came in a rush, the scythe’s edge making him acutely aware of every syllable.

Ethan pressed a little harder with the weapon, just enough to draw another bead of blood from Jake’s neck.

"Who arranged for you to keep watch on me? To notify them when I entered the tomb? I want the truth."

Jake’s eyes darted—he was caught. Panic pulsed behind his pupils. But Ethan leaned just a hair closer, and Jake broke. "It was... It was someone I know! He told me to tell him if you entered the tomb outside of the usual times, or if you lingered too long! That’s all I know, I swear!"

Ethan’s eyes narrowed with satisfaction. "Does the name Alex mean much to you now?"

Jake blanched, realizing too late the implication. "Wh—where is he?"

A cruel calm threaded through Ethan’s voice.

"Dead."

The truth echoed through the gloom, and Jake understood real fear for the first time.