Han Yu's question was something even the juniors were wondering about.

"Yes," said the tall man grimly. "There were some elders remaining with us after the first few groups entered the inner realm, but when the quakes started… they disappeared too. The last thing we saw was the ground splitting apart under their feet. After that, everything went blank."

Han Yu clenched his jaw. "Then we might be the only ones nearby. And you said not everyone was sent to the same place?"

"That's right," the man said. "We saw others get pulled in too, but when we woke up here, it was just us. I think people are being scattered randomly."

Before Han Yu could reply, a sound echoed in the distance, faint at first, but growing louder by the second. It was not the sound of the earth cracking, nor the rumbling of falling debris. It was something far more human.

Screams.

At first, the disciples thought it was more people falling from the sky, panicking as they landed.

But the next moment, the distinct flare of qi techniques lit up the horizon. Han Yu turned sharply toward the source, his spiritual sense extending instinctively but being blocked by the barriers. The others outside though, could feel several presences, many of them weak and chaotic, but others strong and purposeful.

"What's happening?" one of the disciples whispered, her voice trembling.

Han Yu's eyes narrowed as he saw the light of the qi skills. "Combat."

"Yeah I can sense several cultivators there... Their qi is different than anything I've felt." One of the seniors replied.

Through the haze and flickering light, he saw them; tens of cultivators clashing violently.

But something about one of the groups immediately felt wrong. Their movements were precise, merciless, and their qi carried a faint crimson hue. They were cutting through the others like blades through paper.

As the wind shifted, Han Yu could finally make out their attire. His heart sank.

They wore robes unlike any orthodox or unorthodox sect he knew. Black, with streaks of dark red along the hems, and strange insignias embroidered across their chests—symbols that pulsed faintly as though alive.

"What kind of symbol is that? I can't recognize the character." Han Yu muttered.

The disciples beside him froze, their faces draining of color. "Who are they?" one whispered.

Han Yu did not answer.

His eyes were fixed on the slaughter unfolding before him. He watched one of the black-robed cultivators drive his palm through another man's chest, crimson energy surging outward and reducing the corpse to ash.

Another swung his blade and sent a wave of dark qi that cleaved through three more. There was no hesitation, no restraint. They were not here to capture, they were here to exterminate.

Han Yu's grip on his halberd tightened.

His instincts screamed danger. These were not ordinary enemies. These were the unseen hands behind the chaos, perhaps the same presence he had felt faintly from afar, the same that seemed to manipulate the inner realm's transformations.

He looked toward the disciples who stood frozen beside him, their faces pale with fear. "Stay near the barrier," he said firmly. "Do not go near them. Whatever those people are… they're not human anymore."

The ground shuddered again, and from the distance, another red flare erupted into the sky. The realm continued to unravel, reality twisting upon itself. Han Yu stared at the growing chaos beyond the barrier, his heart pounding with dread.

The nightmare was only beginning.

To Han Yu, the battlefield beyond the barrier had really turned into a living nightmare. The once orderly formations of sect disciples, whether orthodox or unorthodox, were now nothing more than scattered groups of cultivators desperately trying to survive.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and the crackling roar of qi techniques clashing. Yet it was all in vain. The black-robed enemies showed no hesitation, no mercy, and no distinction between those they slaughtered.

To them, everyone who lived within this realm was nothing but fodder.

Han Yu could only watch from within the shimmering confines of the barrier as chaos unfolded. He pressed one hand against the translucent surface, feeling its faint pulse of energy.

It protected him, yes, but it also imprisoned him, forcing him to witness the carnage without lifting a finger to help. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. Each scream he heard beyond the barrier was a stab to his spirit.

Dozens of orthodox sect disciples tried to band together, forming defensive formations that shimmered with their combined qi.

But in mere moments, the black-robed figures tore through them as if their efforts meant nothing. A single dark blade slash could erase an entire formation, leaving only ash and twisted fragments of weapons behind.

On the opposite side, unorthodox sect members who had once prided themselves on their brutal independence were fleeing in panic, their savage roars turning into terrified cries. The new enemies struck them down all the same. No one was spared.

Han Yu's breathing grew heavy. "This is madness," he muttered. "Why are they killing everyone?"

His voice was lost amidst the explosions and the wails that echoed across the devastated land.

The disciples near him were trembling as well. The younger ones clutched their weapons with white knuckles, their faces pale as death. Even the senior disciples from Twin Leaf Peak Sect who had survived countless battles looked shaken.

The black-robed figures were drawing closer with every passing second, their crimson qi leaving burning trails in the air.

"They are heading this way!" one of the disciples shouted.

Han Yu turned sharply toward them.

His eyes hardened with determination. "Run. Now!"

The senior-most disciple hesitated. "What about you, Han Yu?"

"I will stay here," Han Yu said, his tone firm. "The barrier will keep me safe for now. But if you remain here, you will die. Leave while you can."

The others hesitated, torn between the instinct to flee and the guilt of abandoning a fellow sect member. But when they looked into Han Yu's eyes, they saw no fear, only conviction. His decision was made. Staying behind was his choice.