Chapter 12: The Crimson Watch Rises
The announcement of Tham Duong's appointment as Captain of the Crimson Watch rippled through the Heavenly Sky Sect like wildfire. It was unprecedented—never before had someone so new, so unorthodox, been elevated to such a key position. Many whispered behind closed doors, while others sharpened their blades. In a sect governed by merit but bound by tradition, Duong was both a symbol of hope and a walking disruption.
Yet Duong did not care.
He had no time for politics.
Only preparation.
The Crimson Watch was to be a newly formed elite division, tasked with handling matters related to the Corpse Mist, the Red Mother, and any spiritual corruption spreading from the sealed lands.
Duong's first task as Captain?
Recruitment.
Inside the Northern Martial Arena, Duong stood alone, a scroll in his hands.
Behind him, the inscription read: "Only those willing to face death without flinching may enter."
The scroll was blank.
He didn't need names written.
He wanted to see them.
"Let those who have tasted despair and spit it back in fate's face... step forward."
He waited.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Then… footsteps.
First came Lan Yên, as expected. She said nothing, simply nodded and stood at his side.
Then Phạm Vũ, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"I still think you're insane," he muttered, "but I'd rather die under your command than rot in the bureaucracy of the elders."
Third was Minh Tử, breathless and sweating. "You know I hate danger, right? But also… I hate being left behind."
Duong smiled faintly.
But then—others arrived.
One by one.
Some were outer sect disciples with scars hidden under their sleeves.
Others were inner disciples who had never found their place.
And some… wore no sect robes at all.
Wanderers.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, twelve had gathered.
Tham Duong stood before them.
"You are the first blades against the dark," he said. "The first flames that the cold cannot snuff out. You are not here to follow orders. You are here to follow truth."
He paused.
"If you want safety, leave now. If you want purpose, take a knee."
They all knelt.
The Crimson Watch was born.
The next few weeks were consumed with brutal training.
But this wasn't the rigid cultivation forms most disciples knew.
Duong trained them in adaptability, team synergy, and anti-corruption warfare.
He recreated Corpse Mist simulations using formations and illusions.
He forced them to fight blindfolded.
To meditate while submerged in cursed springs.
To resist mental attacks from spirit illusions.
Many faltered.
None quit.
Each night, he returned to his quarters and stared at the old scroll he'd found in the ruins.
The one that bore the seal of the Celestial Empire.
And within it, a fragmented memory returned:
A battlefield.
A woman's laugh.
And himself—wearing golden armor, sword pierced through his chest.
"I failed once," he whispered. "I will not fail again."
One morning, as the Crimson Watch drilled near the Obsidian Cliffs, a messenger bird arrived.
A red ribbon tied to its leg.
Emergency dispatch.
Duong unfolded the letter. His eyes narrowed.
A merchant convoy transporting high-grade spirit stones and spiritual herbs from the Jade River Province had gone missing—two guardian elders included.
The only evidence recovered?
A shattered talisman engraved with the Red Lotus Sigil—the very mark of the Red Mother.
Duong gathered his unit.
"No more drills. We move tonight."
"Target?" asked Phạm Vũ.
Duong looked out toward the rising moon.
"We're hunting phantoms in the mist."
The mission was codenamed: "Crimson Bloom."
They traveled by cloudstep until the terrain forced them to continue on foot. By dawn, they arrived at the edge of Silent Valley, where the convoy had disappeared.
Fog choked the landscape, thicker than before.
Lan Yên conjured a cold barrier, holding the mist at bay.
Minh Tử activated a detection talisman.
"There's movement. West. No heartbeat. No qi flow. Puppets."
Duong nodded.
"They're bait."
He looked to Vũ. "Flank. If you see anything bigger than a puppet, signal."
Vũ disappeared without a sound.
Duong unsheathed Huyết Ảnh.
It hummed.
"They're watching," the sword murmured. "From beneath the soil."
They advanced.
Suddenly, the earth split.
Hands—decayed, mutated—reached from beneath.
One of the disciples screamed as he was dragged under.
Duong moved like lightning, severing the puppet's arm and yanking the disciple back.
"Hold the formation!" he shouted.
Lan Yên launched a Frost Bloom, freezing the soil.
But then… it came.
From the trees emerged a creature over ten feet tall, bone-thin, its flesh pulsating with red veins.
Its face was a mask of stretched skin, and its eyes glowed with lotus sigils.
A Crimson Revenant.
Not mindless.
Not controllable.
Sentient.
It screamed—a sound that shattered nearby talismans.
Duong leapt forward, clashing blades with the beast.
Every swing of Huyết Ảnh carved deep lines, but the Revenant regenerated.
Minh Tử tossed a Soul Binding Rune.
It clung to the Revenant's chest—slowing it.
Phạm Vũ emerged from behind, twin daggers targeting its joints.
Duong activated a forbidden technique.
His eyes bled.
The world slowed.
Time warped.
"Crimson Fang — Final Bloom!"
One strike.
Through the heart.
The Revenant wailed, then exploded in a burst of black mist.
Silence followed.
The valley calmed.
But Duong was already kneeling.
The forbidden technique had cost him.
Lan Yên rushed to his side.
"You're bleeding."
Duong wiped the blood from his chin.
"I'm alive."
She hesitated. "You shouldn't use that move again."
"I know," he said, looking toward the rising sun.
"But I will."
That night, as the Crimson Watch made camp, Minh Tử asked the question they'd all been avoiding.
"What… is the Red Mother?"
Duong stared into the fire.
"She is not a person," he said. "She is an idea that became real. She is every drop of hatred buried beneath this land. Every betrayal. Every forgotten death. She is… consequence."
They fell silent.
Duong whispered to the fire:
"And once… I helped her live."
A broken sky raining red.