Xiao Chen walked through the quiet after the skirmish, the bodies of the pursuers still strewn across the ground. His eyes, sharp and calculating, didn't linger on the corpses—they were nothing but ants to him, inconsequential. His focus was elsewhere.
The figure who had appeared during the fight—blocking his strike, speaking in measured tones, issuing an offer—was the key. Xiao Chen's mind worked rapidly, piecing together the signs. The demand for Xiao Yan, the insistence on the green lotus core flame, the confidence in maneuvering through a battle filled with lethal skill. There was only one faction in the world capable of this subtlety, this precision, this combination of greed and cruelty: the Hall of Souls.
"They're from the Hall of Souls," he murmured under his breath. The realization was almost casual, yet beneath it, a spark of irritation flared. He despised the Hall of Souls. Their manipulations, their webs of deceit, their endless hunger for power—it was the kind of force he neither trusted nor wished to entangle himself with directly.
But now, they had made their move. They had shown their hand, and Xiao Chen could see the edges of their plan. If left unchecked, both they and the Misty Cloud Sect would pursue Xiao Yan, pursue the flame, and eventually, everything he had fought for would be pulled into their schemes.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The Hall of Souls thought themselves untouchable, but they had underestimated him. He would turn their own ambitions against them. He would make their interests clash with those of the Misty Cloud Sect, entangle them in a snare of their own making, and watch as their power unraveled piece by piece.
He began plotting meticulously. First, he would draw out their agents, find their networks, identify weaknesses. The Hall of Souls prized results over subtlety, and pride often blinded them. Xiao Chen intended to exploit every flaw. Every whisper of greed, every underestimation of his capability, would be a thread he could pull.
The Misty Cloud Sect, too, would be manipulated. Their fear of Xiao Chen's rising power, their obsession with protocol and reputation, meant they could be steered into overextension without realizing it. By letting them act while the Hall of Souls pressed from another angle, Xiao Chen could orchestrate a collision that would serve his own purposes.
And yet, he didn't act rashly. This was a game of patience, of strategy. One wrong move, and he could alert both sides to his intentions. No. He would wait. He would observe. He would weave the threads carefully, unseen.
As he stood in the shadow of the ruined courtyard, the remnants of the battle fading around him, his thoughts returned to the agent's words. "Bring him alive. Bring the flame."
Xiao Chen chuckled softly. Bring Xiao Yan alive? That would be trivial. And the flame… well, that would come in time. No one could force him, no one could threaten him into action. Not the Hall of Souls, not the Misty Cloud Sect, no one.
His eyes narrowed. If they wanted a test, they would have one. But it would be on his terms. And in the end, they would find that manipulating him had consequences far beyond their comprehension.
He stepped forward, leaving the bodies behind, the silence of the night folding around him. The Hall of Souls had revealed themselves. Now, the game began.