"To destroy a sect, one must first reach its heart."
---
Moonlight spilled over the cliff's edge, while a cold wind swept out from the depths of the forest, rustling the tattered cloak draped over Shen's shoulders.
He stood at the edge of the dense woods, gazing down at a hidden cluster of buildings in the distance—this was one of Phantomwater Hall's outer bases, also known as the "Inner Sect Testing Zone" of the Lingyun Sect.
It wasn't listed in any official records, yet among the inner disciples, they called it one thing:
The Abyss.
Once sent in—be they cultivators, mortals, or rare spiritual root wielders—almost none ever returned whole.
Shen's eyes darkened, pupils narrowing.
His target lay within.
Wan'er… was in there.
---
He slowly crouched, brushing his fingers across the ground. Beneath the dust, faint footprints and fragments of formation patterns remained.
"Defensive formation… spirit breath detection… but it's only a low-tier Split-Spirit Array,"
Shen murmured, a hint of scorn flickering in his gaze.
Phantomwater Hall thought this was secure—but they didn't understand.
When facing an assassin, it's not the weakness in the formation that kills you—
—it's not realizing you're being hunted at all.
---
Back in the Shadows
From beneath his cloak, he slowly drew a short, razor-sharp blade. Forged from special metal, it emitted no spiritual energy—but it could slice through bone with ease.
In his other hand were several silver-edged throwing knives, each laced with a poison of his own design.
> He had no spells.
He had no spiritual power.
But he had lethal experience.
And the will of one who had crawled out of hell.
He pressed a faded talisman against his chest—a [Breath Concealing Charm] he'd painstakingly learned from ancient scrolls over the past few months. It could mask his life force for a short time.
He had never needed such things before. But for survival, for vengeance, he had carved every sigil into his mind—over and over, until failure no longer mattered.
He wasn't a genius. But he was relentless.
---
Like a shadow, he crept toward the edge of Phantomwater Hall.
To bypass the first formation, he used a triangular stone to redirect the spiritual current, faking a minor earth pulse.
At the second detection array, he laid flat in the underbrush, only his eyes exposed, watching the rhythm of the glowing runes.
One breath… two breaths… He memorized the pattern silently.
When the spiritual pulses lulled, Shen sprang from the dirt—cutting through the night like a phantom, silently slipping past the outer wall.
No sound. No trace.
---
Inside Phantomwater Hall
From the roof's shadow, Shen watched silently below.
Several cultivators were escorting a group of prisoners through the courtyard.
Their expressions were vacant—some missing limbs, others had their spiritual roots ripped out. Some were no longer sane.
One of them trembled beneath the moonlight, mumbling, "Don't send me in… no one comes out of there alive…"
A guard kicked him down, barking, "Shut your mouth! In Phantomwater Hall, you obey—or lose your tongue."
Shen's fingers curled into fists.
He took a deep breath, forcing down the surge of killing intent.
Not yet.
He needed intel. He needed to find Wan'er. He needed to understand Phantomwater Hall's true layout and personnel.
Revenge isn't emotion. It's calculation.
---
Step One: Infiltrate the Records Hall
Shen slipped into the side wing to the left—the Hall of Records.
The place was littered with talismans and traps. A normal person would never get close.
But Shen didn't "break through."
He bypassed.
At every trap, he paused—observed, calculated, then moved.
Once, he misstepped by half an inch and nearly triggered a curved alert web. He had to roll backward into a ceiling crack to avoid detection.
He bit his finger, drew a weakening sigil with blood on the stone wall, and redirected the spiritual current just enough to neutralize the trap.
This wasn't just assassin training.
These were survival skills carved into his bones.
He wasn't a cultivator—but he lived like a hunter more than any of them.
---
Finding Wan'er
Behind a row of dust-covered scrolls, he finally found her name:
> ID: Phantom-29
Spiritual Root: Rare Class – Skywater Ice Root
Status: Living Subject – Currently in Seal Testing
Location: Phantomwater Hall – Abyssal Prison
Shen's gaze shifted.
She was alive.
He nearly clenched his fists—but forced himself to stay calm.
Charging into the Abyssal Prison now would be suicide.
But now he knew—
This wasn't the end. It was the beginning.
---
Return to Darkness
He slipped out of Phantomwater Hall without a sound, vanishing back into the forest.
The night wind whipped through his cloak. His face remained cold, but his eyes gleamed like blades.
He whispered:
> "You took everything I had—"
"Now, I'll take everything from you."
He stored the map and scrolls he'd gathered inside his cloak.
Next came the real plan: infiltration, destruction, defense, and rescue.
A rootless, powerless man… would now rise against the might of a celestial sect.
> In the name of Shadow, he would knock on the gates of hell.