The forest stretched endless before Li Shen, its trees whispering secrets in the wind. He moved silently, steps light, breath controlled, body low.
He was no longer the broken boy who once limped through these woods. His body was still weak, but his spirit was sharp, and the shard at his waist pulsed like a heartbeat.
Ahead, faint voices echoed.
He crouched. His senses, sharpened by the shard's essence, picked them out clearly—three disciples of the Seven Peaks Sect. Their robes bore the familiar mountain emblem, and their laughter cut through the forest like knives.
Li Shen's eyes darkened.
He followed their sound, keeping to the shadows. Every movement deliberate, every breath hidden.
The disciples stopped at a clearing. One tossed down a sack—beast meat, likely hunted nearby. Another cursed loudly, complaining about being sent to patrol such a desolate place. The third sharpened his blade lazily, his face relaxed.
They didn't know death was watching.
Li Shen pressed himself against a tree trunk, watching. His fingers traced the shard at his side.
"Kill them now," the shard's voice urged. "Their throats are open. Three cuts. Quick. Simple."
Li Shen narrowed his eyes. "No. Not yet."
"Why wait? Weakness hesitates. Strength strikes."
"They're disciples," Li Shen whispered back in his mind. "If I rush, and one escapes, I'm finished. I need to watch. Learn. Know how they move."
The shard was silent for a moment. Then it chuckled darkly. "Sharp mind. I approve. The blade that waits cuts deeper."
The disciples bantered, unaware of the predator in the shadows.
One of them—the tall one with a scar across his cheek—suddenly frowned. He looked around, sensing something.
Li Shen froze. His heart slowed. His breath stopped.
The disciple scanned the trees, then cursed under his breath. "Damn forest rats. I thought I felt eyes."
The others laughed at him. "You're always paranoid, Jun. Relax. Who would be stupid enough to lurk around Seven Peaks' patrol?"
Jun muttered but eventually sat again.
Li Shen's grip tightened on the shard. He had been close to discovery. His control wasn't perfect yet.
But he had learned something. The scarred one was cautious. That meant he had to go first.
Hours passed. The disciples ate, drank, and argued. Finally, as night fell, two of them dozed by the fire. Only the scarred one kept watch, his blade across his knees, eyes scanning the dark.
Li Shen waited.
Every second dragged like an eternity, but he forced himself still. The shard pulsed in irritation. "Too long. Kill. Strike. End it."
"Not yet," Li Shen thought coldly. His gaze was locked on the scarred man.
Finally, the man yawned. His head dipped for a breath, just a moment.
Li Shen moved.
Silent. Swift.
The shard gleamed faintly as he closed the distance. His blade hand trembled for only a heartbeat—then hardened.
One step. Two.
The scarred disciple's eyes snapped open. He turned—too late.
Li Shen's shard cut across his throat in one smooth motion.
Blood sprayed, hot and sharp. The man gurgled, clutching at his neck, but no sound escaped. His eyes went wide, full of disbelief, then glassy as life faded.
Li Shen caught the body, lowering it gently to the ground. His hands were steady. His face was calm.
"Good," the shard whispered, almost pleased. "The first cut. Now feed."
The shard pulsed. Blood on its edge shimmered, absorbed into the metal. Li Shen felt a rush enter his veins—raw, burning power flooding his body. His muscles tightened, senses sharpened, his meridians thrummed with force.
It was intoxicating.
He almost staggered, gripping the shard tighter. "This… this strength…"
"Blood refines us. More. Take more."
The second disciple stirred at the faint noise. His eyes fluttered open. "Jun? You awake?"
Li Shen moved like a shadow.
Before the man could rise, the shard pierced his chest. Blood gushed. The man's eyes widened in horror, but Li Shen silenced him with a swift twist of the blade.
The shard drank eagerly. Power surged again, doubling the rush in Li Shen's body. His chest heaved. His skin tingled.
He felt alive.
Only one remained.
The last disciple woke suddenly, sensing something wrong. His eyes widened when he saw his companions lying still, blood soaking the ground.
"Wha—"
Li Shen was already there.
The shard slashed. The disciple screamed, blocked with his sword, sparks flying.
He was stronger than the others. Faster. He shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. "Enemy! There's an enemy—!"
Li Shen didn't let him finish.
He pressed forward, every strike fueled by blood power. His shard clashed against the disciple's blade, faster, sharper.
Finally, he broke through.
The shard slid across the man's chest, tearing through flesh. Blood sprayed. The disciple staggered back, eyes wide with fear.
"You… who… who are you?" he gasped.
Li Shen's voice was cold. "The last thing you'll see."
One final cut ended it.
The shard drank deep, glowing faintly in the night.
Li Shen stood over the corpses, his breath heavy, chest heaving. His hands were stained red. His robes soaked in blood.
Yet his eyes gleamed.
He had done it. Three disciples of Seven Peaks lay dead at his feet. His first true hunt.
The shard whispered, pleased. "Good. Very good. You are no longer prey. You are the predator. Remember this feeling. Crave it. Kill again."
Li Shen clenched the shard, his face unreadable.
For the first time since his clan's fall, he felt no weakness. No helplessness.
Only strength.
But in the distance, faintly, a horn echoed.
Seven Peaks had noticed.
And the hunt was far from over.