Grand Return System

Into the Sea of Flames

Leon looked toward the guards.

The wind outside the Taylor residence carried ash.

It drifted through the courtyard in faint gray threads, settling over the stone tiles like dust blown from a battlefield not far away.

His purple eyes narrowed slightly.

"Is your clan leader at home?"

The guards stationed at the gate visibly stiffened.

One of them swallowed before answering, his voice strained.

"A few days ago, the Patriarch led several experts from the clan into the wasteland to aid the refugees. They haven’t returned yet."

There was exhaustion on his face.

And fear.

Not fear of Leon—

but of whatever horrors lurked beyond the city walls.

Leon frowned.

He had already seen enough on the way here.

The entire Forsaken Domain surrounding Ashford City had fallen into chaos.

Smoke rose in dark columns in the distance.

Villages burned.

Refugees flooded toward the city like a desperate tide.

He had not expected Harrier Taylor to personally bring his clansmen out to help.

For a brief moment, surprise stirred in Leon’s heart.

Then it became quiet understanding.

There was nothing strange about it.

It only proved his earlier judgment had been right.

Harrier Taylor was someone worthy of association.

If something happened—

he would truly go help.

Not merely speak righteous words.

He would act.

At last, a servant gathered enough courage to ask carefully, his voice low, almost trembling beneath the pressure pressing over the courtyard.

"Respected One... why are you seeking our Patriarch?"

For a moment, no one moved.

Even the servants standing farther back seemed to hold their breath.

Leon was silent.

His gaze drifted beyond the estate walls, toward the smoke rising in the distance, dark stains against the bruised sky. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though seeing something far beyond what others could.

The servant swallowed hard.

"Senior...?" he asked again, more cautiously this time.

Leon exhaled.

Then he shook his head.

"No... I was just on the way."

A faint pause.

"I came to the Taylor family for a visit."

The servant blinked, clearly not expecting such an answer.

"For... a visit?"

Leon merely looked at him.

That one glance made the servant lower his head at once.

"Yes... yes, understood."

He bowed deeply, though uncertainty still lingered in his expression.

The atmosphere remained strangely taut.

Then footsteps approached.

Not long after, Harry walked out again.

His expression had returned to normal.

Though only outwardly.

Leon could still sense the lingering strain in the boy’s breathing, the subtle tightness in his shoulders, the way his hands opened and closed unconsciously.

Harry had already learned from his mother that his father had brought his clansmen out.

After knowing his family was safe, he gradually felt relieved.

The panic in his chest eased.

But only a little.

He stopped beside Leon.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Harry looked up.

"Senior..."

Leon turned slightly.

Harry hesitated before asking,

"My father isn’t home. Where are we going next?"

This time his usual playful tone was gone.

No grin.

No casual joking.

Even his voice carried an unfamiliar steadiness.

Leon studied him.

"You seem quieter."

Harry gave a faint, bitter smile.

"I saw too much today."

His fingers clenched at his side.

"How can I still act the same?"

Silence stretched between them.

The smoke beyond the walls drifted slowly in the wind.

Then Harry lowered his voice.

"Senior..."

He paused.

"...you brought me down the mountain because of this, didn’t you?"

Leon did not answer at once.

Harry looked toward the damaged streets beyond.

"Because Ashford City was suffering... because the Taylor family could be in danger..."

His throat moved.

"So you brought me back."

His words were almost a whisper.

Leon simply said,

"You understand now."

Harry’s chest tightened.

Warmth rose silently in his heart.

A strange warmth.

Heavy, but steady.

He did not voice it.

But he remembered.

After a moment, Harry asked again, softer this time,

"Then where do we go?"

Leon’s gaze lifted toward the wilderness beyond the city.

Far beyond the city, in the wilderness a hundred miles outside, ferocious beasts wreaked havoc and danger reigned.

Ancient roars echoed through valleys.

Mana storms tore through ravines.

Even the earth itself seemed restless.

Meanwhile, the city was also in turmoil.

As the number of refugees increased, burning, killing, and plundering were happening in the city.

Law was thinning.

Fear fed greed.

A bloody battle could erupt at any moment.

Leon calmly looked at the situation outside.

Then said,

"Let’s go out of the city and take a look."

Harry nodded at once.

He did not question it.

It was still relatively stable inside the city.

No major conflict had broken out yet.

But outside—

outside was already an abyss of suffering.

And Leon knew something bigger moved beneath the chaos.

The experts of various Powerful Sects had already appeared one after another.

When he entered the city earlier, he had even sensed familiar auras.

Among them—

Jadis of the Soft Water Divine Sect.

The same elder he had encountered before.

And beyond him, many unfamiliar faces.

Powerful ones.

Watching.

Waiting.

Likely all drawn by the same thing.

The mountain treasure.

And the Inferno Swift Bird.

Leon’s eyes darkened.

His instincts told him this was no ordinary beast disturbance.

Something was converging.

Something ancient.

Harry followed him out.

The two passed through streets choked with refugees.

A mother held two children under a torn awning.

A wounded cultivator sat cross-legged trying to heal a severed arm.

Soldiers shouted at panicked crowds.

Some people recognized Leon’s robes.

They stepped aside instinctively.

Hope flashing across tired faces.

Harry noticed it.

And lowered his voice.

"Senior... they look at you like salvation."

Leon replied lightly,

"Then don’t disappoint them."

Harry froze.

Those words struck deeper than any lecture.

Soon they arrived outside Ashford City.

And Harry’s breath stopped.

Before him stretched a sea of flames.

A literal ocean of fire.

The horizon burned crimson.

Entire forests crackled beneath towering walls of flame.

Black smoke coiled into heaven.

The air itself shimmered from unbearable heat.

The smell of scorched earth and blood mingled together.

Far away—

beast shadows moved through fire.

Huge.

Monstrous.

Terrifying.

Some villages were already reduced to embers.

Others were still fighting.

The distant cries of cultivators rose and vanished in the roar of flames.

Harry stood rooted.

His face turned pale.

All his earlier fantasies of "acting cool" felt absurd.

Childish.

Meaningless.

This...

was real calamity.

And he was seeing it for the first time.

His throat tightened.

Then he blurted in sheer disbelief,

"F*ck... Who started this fire?"