Killian sprinted inside–

–and saw the Abbots head on the floor in a pool of blood. His body still kneeling in blood.

Killian’s mind broke.

The sky darkened instantly. The earth trembled. Lightning exploded from the clouds as Killian’s eyes ignited with blazing light.

From far away Weilong was able to sense the sudden danger as he quickly made his escape. Tears rolled down his face as he ran through the forest, escaping into the night.

Killian struggled to contain his emotions, his power coming out of him uncontrollably. He knelt a distance away from the Abbot, clenching his fist till they bled, he spoke through his teeth, “I promise I'll find who did this Master. I swear.” There was no time for him to grieve, he had to help the monks outside fight off the soldiers. 

He stepped outside, to see the scene before him, rain soaking him, thunder screaming overhead. His eyes glowed a bright red now, as he rushed around the battlefield, helping children into homes, taking down soldiers.

But still it seemed like their army was infinite, as more and more enemies seemed to appear. Killian kept asking himself, what more did they want, the village was in ruins, the forest burning, the Abbot killed. His rage flared, as a red aura around him started to appear, he no longer could hold himself back.

He didn’t just take the soldiers down now, he destroyed them. He hurled bolts of lightning piercing them and burning them to a crisp. He used his whips to fry enemies. He was rage incarnate, a storm given flesh. By the end, most invading forces lay dead, scattered limbs, scorched corpses, shattered stone.

Killian sat in the middle of it all, as the rain poured down. Thoughts flooded his mind of the battle, and the Abbots body, how his head was mercilessly removed. If he’d been even slightly faster…

Maybe the Abbot—

Liwei arrived moments later, stopping dead at the sight—

Killian stared at the ground beneath him, bodies across the ground, the storm fading.

“I… I couldn’t save him,” Killian choked. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

Liwei ran as fast as he could towards the Abbots room, when he wasn’t there, he checked the gardens. Liwei dropped to his knees as he saw the man who raised him, his severed head staring at him, smiling. Liwei screamed, not wanting to believe it, it couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t…

With the Abbot gone now, Ishu Chu stood hollow. The village had always looked to him for wisdom, for calm, for strength, but now their eyes searched for a new anchor. And everyone knew who that anchor would be. Liwei Zhang, the Abbot’s chosen disciple since birth, the most disciplined monk of his generation, a voice the village would follow even in the darkest storm.

He didn’t feel ready. Like the shoes would always be too big to fill.

But no one else could bear the weight.

The village gathered at dawn for the funeral, dressed in flowing whites or deep blacks. Silas, Deandre, Killian, and Liwei carried the Abbot’s casket beside the spirit monks, their faces carved with grief. The air smelled of rain and incense. Not a single person spoke.

At his grave, the monks burned prayers to the God of Wind and Skies. Their chants rose softly, trembling from mourning.

Liwei stepped in front of the people to speak about the Abbot to close up the funeral. He cleared his throat and looked to the sky for a second before looking at his people, “I’m sure you’re all aware that it was Ihuoin Mechu who attacked us last night. I first want to apologize to you all for our carelessness and laziness, it is clear we have been slacking off, and as a result we lost our leader. I can promise you this, that no attack of this magnitude will take place again. I know I have big shoes to fill, and I know I am nowhere near the man that he was, but I will give this village my all for as long as I breathe.”

The crowd clapped and cheered for him as he stepped down, everyone knew this was a crucial time, and how Liwei handled it would say a lot about who he was not just as a person,

but as a leader.