The morning sun cast a soft glow over the city of the Black Wolves, but the stillness that hung in the air was deceptive. Beneath the calm streets and bustling market squares, tension had begun to coil like a serpent. Prince Long Wei and the Third Prince stood side by side in front of the tavern where they had spent the night, their minds heavy with the previous day's revelations.
Today marked the beginning of their official investigation into the massacre — thirty lives lost under mysterious and brutal circumstances. The scent of roasted meats and freshly ground spices filled the streets, yet it did little to mask the foul stench of suspicion.
Clad in their royal cloaks and light armor, the two princes moved with purpose, accompanied by four elite guards. The commoners they passed bowed respectfully, some whispering to one another. The presence of the royal emissaries was a rare sight in this part of the realm.
Their first stop was a small herb shop at the edge of the northern district, where the old man who had initially brought them news of the murders awaited them. The shop smelled of crushed roots and dried petals. He bowed deeply.
"I told you all I knew," he muttered, brushing off his dusty robe. "But I heard something else last night. A merchant named Yu Gan claims his cousin saw the killer stumbling out of the nearby forest before entering the city. Said he looked... possessed."
"Possessed?" Prince Long Wei asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, Your Highness," the old man replied, voice trembling. "His cousin said the man's eyes were blood-red, like he wasn't even human. Nobody's dared to go to that part of the forest since."
Prince Long Wei looked at the Third Prince, who nodded gravely. "That's a lead."
They left immediately, riding out toward the forest just past the city's western edge. The sun was now higher, burning away the morning mist that clung to the trees. The closer they got, the colder the wind became — as if the forest itself knew why they had come.
Branches twisted like gnarled fingers over their heads. The forest was silent, too silent. Not even the chirping of birds or rustle of small animals could be heard. It was as though the very life had been drained from the land.
One of the elite guards dismounted, brushing aside ferns and fallen leaves to reveal deep claw marks carved into tree trunks. Nearby, another tree bore the telltale scars of a blade. The marks were fresh — less than a week old.
"It's true," Long Wei murmured, running his fingers along the gouged bark. "This wasn't just murder. It was rage, like something monstrous took hold of him."
"Or someone made it look that way," the Third Prince said. "Let's not rule out manipulation. Perhaps dark cultivation or illegal weapons..."
Their eyes met, both considering the same possibility. There was only one place in the city known for forging weapons beyond the empire's regulation — the Black Wolves Sect.
By midday, they rode back into the city, storming through the inner gate that led toward the towering structure at the city's heart — the headquarters of the Black Wolves Sect.
The four elite guards stood at attention as the two princes approached the heavy iron doors. They presented a sealed scroll bearing the royal insignia — an imperial search warrant authorized by the Emperor herself.
Long Wei's voice rang with authority. "By royal decree, we demand access to your forge, your armory, and all records of weapon shipments made within the last six months."
Just as the guards prepared to open the doors, a sharp voice echoed from above.
"I believe you're forgetting your manners."
All eyes turned upward. There, on the second floor balcony of the sect's central tower, stood a man dressed in obsidian black robes. A silver wolf's insignia gleamed on his shoulder. A smooth black mask concealed his face, but his eyes — bright and deadly — glowed from behind the mask's slits. In his hand was a long, curved sword sheathed in crimson cloth.
The Sect Master of the Black Wolves.
With arms crossed and an amused tone, he said, "Are you accusing us of arming a killer? Do you have any evidence to support this slander?"
The Third Prince stepped forward. "We don't need to prove what everyone already knows. Your sect has been forging illegal weapons for years. We just didn't have a reason to force our way in before."
Long Wei added coldly, "You can either cooperate with the imperial order, or you can resist it. But know this — resistance will not end well for you."
The Sect Master chuckled softly, then drew his sword slowly, its polished edge gleaming like liquid night. A strange hum filled the air — an aura of condensed qi so dense it made the hairs on everyone's skin stand on end.
"You come to my city, welcomed with hospitality, and now threaten my gates with imperial arrogance?" he said, leaping down from the balcony with effortless grace.
He landed soundlessly in front of the princes, sword now fully unsheathed. "I honored the Emperor with courtesy. But I do not tolerate tyranny cloaked as justice."
The moment he finished, a storm gathered above the city. The skies darkened as if responding to the clash of powers now building between the two men. Citizens gathered nearby, drawn to the sudden tension.
Prince Long Wei stepped forward, drawing his own blade. The hilt of the sword shimmered faintly, and golden runes pulsed across its length. The wind around him shifted, swirling as his inner qi flared.
The Sect Master smirked. "Finally, a worthy opponent."
And then — they struck.
Their swords collided with the force of thunder, shaking the entire district. The impact of their first clash sent ripples of energy across the courtyard, cracking stone beneath their feet. Sparks flew, and the wind howled in every direction.
The fight that followed would be spoken of in legends.
For four straight hours, blades danced through the sky. Long Wei's movements were precise, honed from years of training in both royal swordsmanship and spiritual qi control. But the Sect Master moved like a phantom — unpredictable, deadly, and fierce.
Each blow they exchanged unleashed a shockwave of elemental power. Trees were uprooted, tiles from rooftops exploded into the air, and windows shattered across the plaza. The elite guards and the Third Prince did their best to shield bystanders.
Onlookers watched in horror and awe as the two men scaled the tall buildings, fighting along the roofs, their silhouettes barely visible against the storm-torn sky.
Suddenly, from the apex of the tallest tower, both men released their ultimate techniques.
Long Wei's sword blazed with golden essence — a radiant flame shaped like a phoenix's wing extended from the blade, lighting up the sky.
The Sect Master countered with a dark pulse of shadowed qi that took the form of a spectral wolf, its fangs bared.
The two powers collided in mid-air — light against shadow — and the explosion that followed was cataclysmic.
The tower crumbled. The entire district shook. Debris scattered like meteorites, and the force knocked both elite guards and commoners off their feet.
When the dust settled, nothing remained of the tower.
No sign of Prince Long Wei. No trace of the Sect Master.
They were gone.
The Third Prince stumbled forward, face scraped, chest heaving. "Long Wei!" he called out.
But there was only silence.
The skies began to clear slowly, as if the heavens had spent all their fury in one divine clash. People stared at the ruins, stunned by what they had just witnessed.
No one knew if the prince had survived. No one knew if the Sect Master had fallen.
And in that moment of uncertainty, the balance of power in the empire had begun to shift.