The night winds howled across the peaks, carrying the faint cry of eagles hunting in the dark. Inside the inner sanctum of the Seven Peaks Sect, the council gathered once more.
This time, the air was heavy with unease. Candles flickered along the carved stone walls, their flames bending as though afraid.
Sect Master Tian Long sat upon the throne of obsidian, his aura suppressed yet still strong enough to make even seasoned elders shift uncomfortably. His gaze swept across them like a blade drawn slow against flesh.
"You have heard the report," he said at last, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. "Wu Han was not the only one. Three more of our allies lie dead tonight. Slain in silence. Their throats cut clean, their guards slaughtered. All within the span of two days."
Gasps broke out.
Elder Yun slammed his palm against the table, cracking the wood. "Impossible! No lone assassin could move so quickly, let alone leave no trace. Sect Master, we must assume a rival sect conspires against us. Perhaps the Scarlet Cloud!"
Elder Mei shook her head, her jeweled hairpins trembling. "No. The Scarlet Cloud leaves trails of fire. The Moon Lotus poisons its victims. These deaths are different. Too precise. Too deliberate."
Sect Master Tian Long's eyes narrowed. "Elder Mei speaks truth. This is not the hand of a sect. This is personal."
The chamber fell silent.
Personal. The word carried more weight than any curse. For a moment, each elder thought of the countless clans crushed beneath Seven Peaks' rise to dominance. The broken blades, the silenced names, the rivers of blood left behind.
How many survivors had been left in the ashes? How many seeds of vengeance had they unknowingly sown?
One elder spoke softly, almost a whisper. "Perhaps… a ghost walks among us."
Sect Master Tian Long's expression did not change, but his fingers tightened against the throne. "No ghost. A man of flesh and blood. But one who hides in the dark, striking with a blade that knows only hatred."
Elder Xun stepped forward, bowing. "Sect Master, allow me to form a shadow corps. My disciples are trained in pursuit, in silence, in killing without sound. Give me the order, and I will drag this assassin from the shadows."
The Sect Master's eyes flickered. "Do it. But fail, and your head will join the pile of corpses he leaves behind."
Xun did not flinch. He bowed deeper, the corners of his mouth twisting in a cruel smile. "I will not fail."
Later that night, within a secluded valley below the sect, Elder Xun stood before his chosen men. All wore black, their faces masked, their eyes sharp with bloodlust.
"You know your task," Xun said, his voice low but firm. "A shadow walks the land, wielding hatred as his weapon. He has already cut down four of our allies. He may cut down more. But hear me well—before his blade grows sharp enough to reach us, we will break it."
The men bowed as one, fists over their chests. "We live to obey!"
Xun's smile widened. "Good. Spread across the lower realms. Search every ruined clan, every wandering survivor. If you find this 'avenger,' do not kill him immediately. Break him. Shatter him. Drag him before me alive. I wish to see his eyes when his hatred dies."
At the same time, high on the main peak, Sect Master Tian Long stood alone on a balcony, gazing into the endless night.
He did not share Xun's arrogance. No… he could feel it. The faint ripple in fate, the subtle pulse of killing intent that stretched like a shadow toward their mountain.
This was no ordinary survivor. This was no nameless ghost.
Somewhere out there, a broken blade was sharpening itself.
And when it reached the Seven Peaks, the mountains would bleed.