It began with stillness.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that makes animals vanish. That stills even the wind.
Jiang Han stood on the edge of the valley's southern forest, his newly forged weapon Ember Fang sheathed at his hip. He'd come here to practice its flow—light step strikes, rebound arcs, whip-strike transitions—but something wasn't right.
Too quiet.
Too watched.
His flame thread, now partially synced with the blade, buzzed faintly in warning.
> Someone's here.
He stepped lightly, drawing the blade just enough to let the edge breathe. Its faint warmth calmed him.
Then a whisper:
> "You should have left the kiln cold."
Jiang Han spun.
Nothing.
Then—movement.
A ripple of air.
Too fast for a normal cultivator.
He raised his hand—
But the blow came first.
A dark blur crashed into his ribs, sending him skidding across the clearing. His shoulder slammed into a tree trunk with a crack.
Pain bloomed.
A figure stepped into view from the shadows. Hooded, face covered with silver mesh. No spirit pressure. No heat signature.
Just… nothing.
Void.
> "By order of the Silent Pavilion," the figure said, voice like falling ash, "the Spirit Kilns are not to be awakened. You are in violation."
Jiang Han stood slowly, wiping blood from his lip. "Who the hell are you?"
"I am a Silent Hand."
---
The assassin vanished again.
Jiang Han's eyes flared. He felt it—displacement, not speed. The air bent slightly, the grass bowed where nothing stood.
> Void Qi. Warps space. Kills light.
He spun again, this time reacting before the strike.
> "Fang Echo!"
He slashed diagonally—Ember Fang flared, creating a phantom arc of flame that lingered midair. The assassin struck it instead of him, hissing as the fire bit into their arm.
The cloak burned.
A glimpse of pale skin and inked veins—runes etched into the flesh itself.
The assassin growled.
"Impressive. But your flame is young."
Jiang Han narrowed his eyes. "Then let's age it."
---
The battle exploded.
The assassin vanished and reappeared from unpredictable angles—Void Steps blinking them across space. Each strike was aimed at joints, vital veins, death points.
But Jiang Han was learning.
Every time Ember Fang met the void blade, flame hissed. He focused his soul energy into Ember Whiplash, coiling fire along the blade's spine and releasing it in short, concussive bursts that disrupted the Void Qi.
The forest lit with flashes of red and black.
> He's stronger. More trained. But… he doesn't know I've died before.
Jiang Han threw a feint slash and let himself fall backward, dragging his blade into the dirt.
The assassin moved to finish it—
Too close.
Jiang Han smirked.
> "Overload Pulse!"
A sudden burst of stored heat from Ember Fang detonated upward, catching the assassin square in the chest. Their body flew backward, crashing through a boulder.
Smoke rose. Their hood burned away.
The face beneath was… young. No older than twenty. Mouth stitched shut.
Eyes—white and empty.
Void-touched.
They stood, barely.
"You… should not have survived that."
"I don't plan on dying this time," Jiang Han replied, lifting his blade again.
---
But the battle wasn't over.
The assassin raised one hand, and the space behind them ripped open—a jagged Void Gate, pulsing like a wound in reality.
From within, tendrils of shadow reached out—Void Beasts, malformed things of claw and bone, pulled toward the awakened kiln like moths to fire.
Jiang Han's eyes widened.
> I can't fight all of them. Not yet.
Then—
A shriek from behind.
Arrows.
Three of them.
Yue burst from the brush, shortbow flaring with spirit energy.
"Looks like I showed up just in time to save your singed ass!"
The first arrow struck the assassin in the leg. The second pierced the gate's anchor rune. The third was glowing green—
Lin Yao's spirit wood essence flared as roots shot from the arrowhead, sealing the gate temporarily.
The assassin hissed and leapt back.
"You have allies," they rasped through broken stitches. "But the Void watches now. You lit a fire no one can ignore."
Then they vanished—into the crack between worlds.
---
After the smoke cleared, Jiang Han leaned on his blade, panting.
Yue crossed her arms. "You were going to fight a Void assassin alone?"
"I was already fighting one."
"Dumbass."
Lin Yao rushed to his side, her hands glowing faint green, checking his ribs. "You took too many hits again. You're bruised all over."
"I'll live."
"You always say that," she muttered, voice shaking. "But one of these times—"
"I won't," he said quietly. "I know."
"But not today."
---
That night, as he rested against the shrine wall, Jiang Han stared into the fire.
The blade at his side pulsed faintly with warmth.
> I have my weapon. I have allies. But the Void is watching.
His flame was growing.
But so were the shadows it cast.