Dawn was breaking when Ye Ningzhou slipped to the back wall of the general store.
The smell of burning from Black Stone Town still lingered, a sickly mix of charred wood and blood hanging in the alley. Beneath shattered tiles, half a severed finger peeked out now and then, a stark reminder of the massacre that had just unfolded. He inched along the wall, the sand wolf core in his arms digging painfully into his ribs—a sharpness that kept him alert. Wang Cheng's general store had been a favorite haunt of his parents. The old man loved sitting on the threshold smoking his pipe, squinting and smiling at everyone, his abacus clacking faster than anyone else's.
But now, the shop's wooden door lay split in two, and the "Integrity" plaque above the lintel hung askew, its peeling lacquer revealing blackened wood beneath.
Ye Ningzhou's fingers tightened around the wolf-tooth necklace, knuckles whitening. He picked up a stone and tossed it into the backyard. When no sound answered, he ducked low and slipped through the back door.
The water vat in the yard had toppled, its contents spreading across the ground, mingling with bloodstains that seeped into the dirt. The chicken coop in the corner was empty, save for a few feathers stuck in the blood. Ye Ningzhou's heart sank. He was about to call out "Uncle Wang" when a faint cough echoed from the woodshed.
He grabbed a carrying pole from the door and kicked the woodshed door open.
Inside, Wang Cheng sat on a pile of straw with his back to the door, his left hand pressed to his chest, blood oozing between his fingers. At the noise, he spun around—suspicion in his eyes that melted into deep exhaustion when he saw Ye Ningzhou. "You brat… got a tough life," he managed a smile, blood frothing at the corner of his mouth, glaringly bright in the morning light.
Ye Ningzhou dropped the pole and rushed over. "Uncle Wang, how are you?"
"Not dead yet," Wang Cheng waved a hand, his voice as rasping as a broken gong. "That Butcher Li's a dirty fighter—cracked two of my ribs, but didn't dare hit the vital spots. They're still waiting for me to tell them where your parents hid their things." He coughed, then lowered his voice sharply. "The Dao Seal… your parents gave it to you, didn't they?"
Ye Ningzhou froze, subconscious touching the fragment at his chest.
Wang Cheng's eyes flickered with understanding, then a bitter laugh. "Of course… the blood of the Abyss Guardians—you can't run from that." He struggled to his feet, limping toward the front of the shop. "Come with me. There's something I need to give you."
The front counter lay split in two, the rice jar overturned, spilling white grains across the floor to mix with ash from burnt talismans. Wang Cheng walked to the jar, felt around the bottom with his uninjured right hand, and sddenly lifted—a wooden panel beneath the jar came loose, revealing a dark compartment.
He pulled out an oilcloth bundle, unwrapping it layer by layer to reveal a yellowed thread-bound book. On its cover, a strange symbol was painted in cinnabar—like the character "衡" (Heng, Balance), but with a few twisted strokes added. "This is the Abyss Guardian's Handbook," Wang Cheng pressed the book into Ye Ningzhou's hands. "Your grandfather entrusted it to me years ago. He said if the day ever came when we couldn't hold on, I was to give it to his descendant in the Ye family."
Ye Ningzhou held the book, his fingertips brushing the raised characters on the pages, as if they were some kind of rune. "What… what is an Abyss Guardian?" he asked. "And what is the Dao Seal?"
"The nine realms of Xuanyuan Continent rely on the flow of spiritual veins to stay balanced," Wang Cheng leaned against the broken counter, gasping for breath as he explained. "But there are always madmen who want to steal those veins, control the laws of nature, thinking power can override everything. Abyss Guardians—we're the ones who keep an eye on those madmen." He nodded at the book. "The Dao Seal fragment at your chest is part of the 'Balance Dao Seal.' It can suppress 失控的法则 (out-of-control laws). Your grandfather used it once, at Mirage Island in the Misty Sea, to hold back the chaos that would have devoured the world."
Ye Ningzhou's heart skipped a beat. "So… the Demon-Slaying Alliance wasn't after some 'demon' at all. They wanted the Dao Seal?"
"They're just lackeys," Wang Cheng spat, blood flecking his lips, a 刻骨 hatred in his eyes. "Behind them is the Marauder Alliance, led by a man called Blood Butcher. He's the one who led the raid on the Abyss Guardians' stronghold back then. Xiao Wanlei and his lot are just dogs for hire—shouting about 'exterminating demons' to cover up their real job: finding Dao Seal fragments for the Marauders."
Ye Ningzhou's grip on the handbook tightened, knuckles whitening. So his parents hadn't died for "colluding with demons"—they'd died for guarding something that shouldn't have been coveted. Amu's sacrifice had hidden a conspiracy this big.
"What should I do?" he asked, his voice trembling without him noticing.
Wang Cheng studied him, then turned to fetch a brush from a hidden compartment in the counter. It was jet-black, its handle seemingly forged from black iron, heavy in the hand, its tip glinting coldly. "This is an Obsidian Talisman Brush. It can draw basic talismans." He pressed it into Ye Ningzhou's palm. "Your parents kept you away from cultivation to keep you out of this mess. But now… there's no hiding."
He pulled a yellowed paper from his arms,on which a few lines were written in brush—basic breathing techniques. "Practice this. Start with the Body-Forging Realm." Wang Cheng's gaze fell to Ye Ningzhou's chest. "With your mortal constitution, ordinary techniques won't get you far. But the Abyss Guardians' breathing method is different—it can stir the power of the Dao Seal. Maybe… it'll let you carve a different path."
Ye Ningzhou clutched the Obsidian Talisman Brush, its coolness seeping up his palm, strangely easing the burning in his chest. He stared at the runes in the handbook, then thought of his parents' blood, Amu's ship—and suddenly understood what Wang Cheng meant.
Revenge wouldn't come from rage alone.
"Uncle Wang, why do you…?" Ye Ningzhou started to ask why are you helping us, but Wang Cheng cut him off.
"I owe your grandfather," Wang Cheng smiled, the stumps of his missing two fingers on his left hand standing out in the morning light. "When the Abyss Guardians' stronghold fell, he dragged me out of the pile of corpses. Crippled my dantian to save my life—that's a debt I can never repay." He clapped Ye Ningzhou's shoulder. "There's a cellar in this woodshed. Hide there. I'll go out and deal with the Demon-Slaying dogs—they're still waiting for my 'confession.'"
Ye Ningzhou watched him walk toward the door, suddenly remembering how, as a child, Wang Cheng would slip jujube candies into his pocket, saying "Eat up, boy. Builds strength." The sun had been warmer back then.
At the door, Wang Cheng turned, tossing a copper key. "The cellar key. Keep it safe. Remember: being an Abyss Guardian isn't about playing hero. It's about living to guard what matters. Don't be like your grandfather—too stubborn for his own good."
Ye Ningzhou caught the key, its rust biting into his palm like a heavy burden.
The moment the woodshed door closed behind Wang Cheng, he heard the old man shout into the alley: "Stop searching! I'll talk… it's hidden in…"
His voice faded, mixed with the curses of Demon-Slaying cultivators, until it vanished into the morning light.
Ye Ningzhou gripped the Obsidian Talisman Brush and opened the first page of the Abyss Guardian's Handbook.
There was only one line:
"To balance is not to merely guard—it is to coexist."
The cellar reeked of stale rice mold, mingled with the earthy stench of damp soil. Ye Ningzhou leaned against the moist earthen wall, running his fingers over the Abyss Guardian's Handbook by the faint light seeping through cracks in the bricks. The pages were rough as sandpaper, gnawed by insects at the edges, yet they exuded a strange, calming power that steadied his racing heart.
He unfolded the breathing technique Wang Cheng had given him. The characters were crooked, as if written with the left hand—and no wonder: Wang Cheng's right hand had spent a lifetime on an abacus, while his left was missing two fingers. Ye Ningzhou imagined how much effort it must have taken to write, and took a deep breath, following the instructions to guide his breath into his dantian.
But mortal bones were mortal bones.
The moment a wisp of qi gathered, it scattered like sand through a sieve, leaving his dantian hollow, without even a trace of warmth. Ye Ningzhou refused to give up, trying three more times until sweat beaded on his forehead. Then, suddenly, the Dao Seal at his chest flared with heat, and that warm current surged through his body again, barely managing to lock in a thread of qi.
"So that's how it works…" he murmured, a glimmer of light in his eyes. The seal wasn't just a token—it was the key to his cultivation.
Before he knew how much time had passed.a faint sound echoed from above the cellar. Ye Ningzhou tensed, gripping the Obsidian Talisman Brush—the brush felt cold in his hand, its handle carved with intricate patterns, like an unactivated talisman array.
"Knock, knock, knock." Three long raps, followed by two short ones.
Ye Ningzhou relaxed. It was the signal Wang Cheng had agreed on. He felt for the cellar entrance, ready to lift the plank, when he heard Wang Cheng's muffled groan from above, then the thud of a heavy body hitting the ground.
"Old bastard, still trying to trick us!" It was Butcher Li's voice, as harsh as a broken gong. "Speak! Is that Ye Ningzhou brat hiding here?"
"Bah…" Wang Cheng's voice bubbled with blood. "Dogs of the Demon-Slaying Alliance… not even worthy of asking about Abyss Guardians."
"Looking to die!"
A dull crunch, like bone snapping. Ye Ningzhou's hand froze on the plank, his knuckles whitening as his nails dug into his palm. He wanted to rush out, but his legs felt weighted with lead—Wang Cheng had said it: Abyss Guardians don't play hero. They live to guard what matters.
"Search! Tear the place apart!" Butcher Li roared.
From above came the clatter of rummaging, the crash of the rice jar being kicked over, the roll of wooden buckets, and the footsteps of cultivators pacing overhead. Ye Ningzhou held his breath, pressing himself into the deepest shadow, the tip of the Obsidian Talisman Brush scoring a faint line in the dirt.
He counted his heartbeats, repeating the words from the handbook over and over: "To balance is not to merely guard—it is to coexist." But the rage in his chest grew like weeds, Amu's smile, his parents' blood, Wang Cheng's groans weaving into a crimson blur before his eyes.
It felt like an eternity before the commotion above died down.
"Boss, no sign of him," a cultivator reported.
"What about the old man?"
"Break his legs and dump him at the town gate to feed the dogs!" Butcher Li snarled. "Let the people of Black Stone Town see what happens to demon-colluders!"
Footsteps faded, followed by the creak of a door being kicked open. From beneath the plank, Ye Ningzhou could hear Wang Cheng dragging himself along, his broken leg scraping the ground, and his hoarse curses—not at Butcher Li, but at him: "You little bastard, if you dare come out, I'll haunt you even as a ghost!"
Silence fell over the cellar, broken only by Ye Ningzhou's ragged breathing. He touched the Dao Seal at his chest; it burned fiercely, as if mirroring the turmoil in his heart.
After what felt like hours, he slowly pushed open the plank and climbed out.
The front room was a shambles: rice scattered everywhere, shards of the counter stained with dark blood. Wang Cheng was gone, but a trail of blood stretched from the woodshed to the door, coiling like a snake.
Ye Ningzhou went to the rice jar, staring at the compartment Wang Cheng had opened. A thought struck him. He knelt, feeling around the bottom until his fingers found a loose brick—inside was a small cloth bundle. He opened it to find half a bag of jujube candies, and a note.
The note was scrawled in Wang Cheng's messy handwriting: "Deep in the Hanhai Plains, find Old Shi. He owes me three jars of strong liquor—he'll pay his debt to you."
Ye Ningzhou squeezed a jujube candy. Its rough texture brought back memories: Wang Cheng pressing candies into his hand, saying, "Sweet things. Calm the nerves." He popped one into his mouth. The sweetness mingled with the salt of tears, exploding on his tongue.
He tucked the Abyss Guardian's Handbook and the breathing technique close to his body, slid the Obsidian Talisman Brush into his waistband, and stuffed the jujube candies into his arms. One last look at the ruined shop—once filled with the warmth of daily life, now only blood and emptiness remained.
"Uncle Wang," Ye Ningzhou whispered toward the door, his voice as soft as a sigh. "I won't play hero. I'll live."
He left through the back door, his steps steadier than when he'd arrived. The Dao Seal still burned at his chest, its warmth flowing gently with his breath, as if reminding him: the road is long. Take it step by step.
Morning light pierced the clouds over the Hanhai Plains, casting a lone, straight shadow behind him. Ye Ningzhou touched the Obsidian Talisman Brush at his waist; its coolness grounded him. From now on, he wouldn't just seek revenge—he'd uncover the truth: what did Abyss Guardians guard? And what secrets lay within this Balance Dao Seal?
Ye Ningzhou followed the back alleys toward the edge of town. The bloodstains underfoot had dried, crunching like dead leaves when he stepped on them. He avoided the main roads, sticking to walls and ruins, the Obsidian Talisman Brush jostling against his ribs, its coldness sharpening his focus.
Near the town gate, he heard Butcher Li's laughter and curses. Ye Ningzhou ducked behind a broken wall, peeking out—Wang Cheng was tied to the old locust tree at the gate, his left leg twisted at a grotesque angle, his face caked in blood. But he still held his head high, shouting at the onlookers: "Look closely! The Demon-Slaying Alliance doesn't slay demons—they slay the good! What they want is the Abyss Guardians' treasure, not some demon!"
"Still spouting nonsense, old man!" Butcher Li smashed the back of his axe into Wang Cheng's chest. "Keep yapping, and I'll cut out your tongue to feed the dogs!"
The onlookers shrank back, silent. A few familiar faces from the town averted their eyes, fear etched on their faces. Ye Ningzhou's heart stung—these were people who'd accepted kindness from his parents, who'd eaten wolf meat Amu had given them. Now they just stared at their feet, pretending not to see.
"Mortal bones, no spiritual veins… do we just let ourselves be slaughtered?" Ye Ningzhou clenched his fist, nails digging into his flesh. He remembered Wang Cheng's words: Abyss Guardians don't play hero. But watching Wang Cheng humiliated, the fire in his chest threatened to erupt.
Then, Wang Cheng lifted his head, his gaze seeming to pierce the crowd, locking onto the broken wall where Ye Ningzhou hid. His lips moved, no sound escaping, but he blinked slowly—a signal from childhood, when Ye Ningzhou had gotten into trouble: Run.
Ye Ningzhou stumbled back, hitting the wall, a dull pain spreading through his back. He knew he had to go.
He fled into the desert, sand pouring into his shoes, scouring his raw soles, but he ran faster. The curses and screams behind him faded, swallowed by the wind over the Hanhai Plains.
He ran until the sun hung high overhead, baking the sand hot. Ye Ningzhou took shelter under a huge wind-eroded rock, pulling out the jujube candies and sipping from his water pouch. The sweetness spread on his tongue, and he remembered Wang Cheng's handbook, pulling it out to read by sunlight.
The first pages told of the Abyss Guardians' origins: when Xuanyuan Continent was young, spiritual veins ran wild, chaos ran rampant. It was the first Abyss Guardians who used the Balance Dao Seal to contain the chaos, securing peace for the nine realms. The middle pages showed strange runes, labeled "Anti-Slip Talisman," "Explosive Flame Talisman"—basic talisman designs, it seemed. The last pages spoke of the Dao Seal fragments: during an ancient realm war, the Balance Dao Seal had shattered into three pieces. One lay in the Misty Sea, another in the Spirit Void Realm, and the third… was the half-fragment at his chest.
"So Xiao Wanlei and the rest are after the remaining pieces?" Ye Ningzhou touched the fragment, realization dawning. "They want to reforging the seal… to control chaos?"
The last page of the handbook held a crude map, marking a valley deep in the Hanhai Plains, labeled "Old Shi's Residence." Ye Ningzhou's heart settled—this must be the "Old Shi" Wang Cheng had mentioned.
He tucked the handbook away, trying to cultivate under the wind-eroded rock, following the breathing technique. This time, the Dao Seal at his chest glowed warmly, its current flowing through his meridians, the scattered qi drawn like iron to a magnet, slowly coalescing into a tiny cluster in his dantian.
"Body-Forging Realm…" Ye Ningzhou clenched his fist, feeling power stir—weak, but real. He glanced at the Obsidian Talisman Brush at his waist, then at the runes in the handbook, a thought forming.
He picked up a sharp stone, copying the "Anti-Slip Talisman" from the handbook onto the rock wall. The rune came out crooked, like a wriggling snake. When he tried to infuse it with the little qi he'd gathered—nothing happened.
Undeterred, Ye Ningzhou tried again, focusing on mimicking the handbook's strokes. As he poured in his qi, the rune flickered faintly with white light, then faded.
"It works!" His eyes lit up, and he turned to the next talisman.
Outside the wind-eroded rock, the wind howled across the Hanhai Plains, whipping up clouds of sand. Beneath the rock, the youth immersed himself in cultivation and talismans, the Dao Seal at his chest glowing softly with his breath—as if guarding the seed of a Dao heart, sprouting amid hatred.
He knew the road ahead was long. The Demon-Slaying Alliance's pursuit, the Marauders' conspiracy, the chains of his mortal bones—all loomed like the desert's sandstorms, ready to swallow him. But he carried the sweetness of jujube candies in his arms, the coolness of the Obsidian Talisman Brush in his hand, the Abyss Guardian's seal at his chest, and the hopes of Wang Cheng and Amu behind him.
It was enough.
Ye Ningzhou stood, brushing sand from his clothes, and set off toward the valley marked in the handbook. Sunlight spilled over his back, stretching his shadow long—like a sword, soon to be drawn.