The kill was clean, but the silence that followed was anything but.
Xiao Ke worked quickly, his knife carving the glowing brain core from the fallen zombie's skull with grim efficiency. He straightened up, wiping the blade on his pants, and pressed onward. But the feeling—that cold, prickling unease crawling up his spine—refused to leave. It was more than just caution; it was the unnerving certainty of being prey. Something monstrous was out there in the oppressive dark, its eyes locked on him, and every instinct he had screamed that an attack was imminent.
That primal alarm kept his right hand welded to the hilt of Meng Jiang, the formidable blade at his waist. His every step was measured, a coiled spring ready to unleash steel at the slightest provocation. He wanted the unseen hunter to know he wasn't easy quarry. He was ready.
He was sure of it now. This wasn't paranoia. He tried to lose the tail, ducking through jagged ravines and weaving through tangled, complex terrain that should have shaken any pursuer. For a few blessed moments, the feeling of being watched would recede, only to return stronger than before, a suffocating presence latched onto his back.
Fine. If he couldn't outrun it, he'd drag it into the light.
Moving with purpose, Xiao Ke began to work the landscape to his advantage, setting a series of crude but effective traps along his path. Then, he vanished, melting into a jumble of boulders and silencing his breath. He became part of the mountain, waiting.
He didn't have to wait long.
A sharp, brittle crack echoed from down the trail. The sound was a song of success—one of his traps had been sprung. A predatory grin touched Xiao Ke's lips as he muttered to the empty air, "Got you, you son of a bitch."
He exploded from his hiding spot, a blur of motion streaking toward the sound. He covered the distance in seconds, but when he arrived, he skidded to a halt, his grin dissolving into a knot of confusion and dread.
The trap was triggered, yes. But it was also obliterated.
He'd used a massive tree branch, thick as a dinner plate, bent to the ground with his full strength and rigged with heavy vines. It was designed to hoist a two-hundred-pound man into the air and leave him dangling.
Instead, the branch itself had been snapped in two, lying splintered and useless on the forest floor.
What the hell?
The scene painted a terrifying picture. Something had stumbled into his trap, but instead of being ensnared, it had possessed the raw, impossible strength to simply rip the entire mechanism apart as an afterthought. What kind of monster could do that? And with what kind of speed?
A chill, deeper than any he'd felt before, settled over him. He was so focused on the ruined trap that he never saw the humanoid shadow detaching itself from the deeper gloom nearby. It was a perfect predator, its form shifting to match the environment. It crouched low, muscles coiling like vipers, ready to launch the killing blow.
But just as it was about to strike, another sound cut through the night—a different trap springing, followed by a distinctly human curse.
The shadow froze. Xiao Ke, hearing the new disturbance, instantly pivoted and shot off in that direction. He burst into a small clearing to find a nobleman in a brilliant silver-white combat uniform hanging upside down, snarled in a vine trap. The man was no slouch, however. With a flash of steel, he drew a saber, severed the vine, and flipped in mid-air, landing on his feet with the grace of a cat.
Xiao Ke's eyes widened. "You."
It was Liang Jian, the top-ranked fighter from the Hanlin Elite. After realizing Xiao Ke had tricked him into chasing decoys, Liang Jian had spent half the night backtracking, his pride stung and his patience worn thin. He had finally found his quarry. But he'd missed the scene of Luo Zhenglong's corpse, so in his mind, Xiao Ke was still the same weakling he could crush at will.
A smug, cruel smile spread across Liang Jian's face. "The reaper's calling, Xiao Ke. And I'm here to collect."
"So, you're the ghost that's been breathing down my neck this whole time?" Xiao Ke's grip on Meng Jiang tightened. He could feel the Origin Power radiating from Liang Jian; it was stronger than Luo Zhenglong's, sharp and refined. This would be a real fight. Still, a nagging doubt remained. Liang Jian was dangerous, but the terror he'd been feeling… it felt like something else entirely. Something older and hungrier.
Liang Jian scoffed. "You're already a dead man. What does it matter? Now, die!"
He didn't wait for an answer. His saber flared to life, infused with Origin Power until it blazed like a true lightsaber, and he lunged.
There was no more time for thought. Xiao Ke met the charge, his own blade a dark streak against the night. They crashed together like two diving hawks, the shriek of superheated steel on hardened alloy ringing through the forest. The impact sent a shockwave of energy outward, shredding leaves and grass in a violent storm.
They broke apart, and Liang Jian stared, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Well, now. Your power level is a lie. You fight a lot harder than you look."
"It's not too late to walk away," Xiao Ke said, his voice low and steady.
"I'm surprised, not scared," Liang Jian sneered. "You're still dying tonight!"
He surged forward again, and the deadly dance resumed. They were phantoms in the dark, a whirlwind of motion and a symphony of clashing steel. Liang Jian's style was the Lingyun Sword Technique—an art form of the nobility, all elegant, fluid strikes and deadly, agile footwork. It was designed to be as beautiful as it was lethal.
Xiao Ke's style was the opposite. It was the brutal, efficient killing art of the military. There were no wasted movements, no flair, no artistry. Every slash, every parry, every thrust was simple, direct, and aimed at a vital point. It was a style that had one purpose: to put the enemy on the ground.
They were evenly matched, locked in a grinding, desperate struggle. With every exchange, new wounds opened on both of them. They weren't deep, not yet, but the coppery scent of blood began to saturate the cool night air, a siren call to things that lurked in the shadows.
And the shadow was listening. The Demon Apostle, hidden in the darkness, could no longer contain itself.
Its greatest strengths were its chameleon-like camouflage and its silent, bat-like wings, which allowed it to ambush its prey with terrifying stealth. It was an assassin. In a straight-up fight, its Level 8 rank was deceptive; it fought more like a Level 7. That's why it had been so patient, stalking Xiao Ke, waiting for the perfect moment of weakness.
But the smell of fresh human blood was an unbearable temptation, an instinct that overrode all cunning. Its eyes glowed a furious red. Its patience had run out.
Swish!
Xiao Ke and Liang Jian shot past each other one last time. In that fleeting moment, both blades found their mark. A long, bloody gash opened on Liang Jian's chest. A deep cut tore through the muscle under Xiao Ke's left arm.
They staggered to a stop, eight meters apart, breathing heavily. Liang Jian looked down at his chest, his face a mask of fury and disbelief. He couldn't believe this nobody was so damn hard to kill. As he glanced down, he registered a faint whisper of displaced air to his left, a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision.
Before he could even turn his head, it was on him.
A monster ripped itself from the fabric of the night—a terrifying creature of sharp fangs, obscene claws, and leathery wings. It appeared from nowhere, slamming into Liang Jian with a sickening, wet impact.
From across the clearing, Xiao Ke could only watch, his blood running cold.
The Apostle and Liang Jian stumbled apart. The creature was unscathed. Liang Jian, however, was destroyed. His chest had been ripped open, his body a canvas of blood and viscera. Through the gaping hole, Xiao Ke could see the horrifying sight of his still-moving intestines.
The Demon Apostle turned, and a grotesque, triumphant grin stretched its face. It raised its right hand. Clutched in its razor-sharp talons was a glistening, red object, still spasming with the last vestiges of life.
It was Liang Jian's heart.
The monster tilted its head back, dropped the heart into its maw, and swallowed it in a few wet, crunching bites. Then it locked its hellish eyes on Xiao Ke.
And in a voice like grinding rocks, it spoke. "Your turn."
For a long moment, Xiao Ke could only stare at the nightmare creature that had just executed one of the most powerful fighters he'd ever met. The first coherent thought to surface was a single, profane word.
"Holy shit."
And with that, the puzzle pieces slammed into place. The overwhelming dread, the feeling of being hunted by something ancient and malevolent—it wasn't Liang Jian. It was this thing. This Demon Apostle.
He glanced at Liang Jian's crumpled body, then back at the monster. His hand, slick with his own blood, tightened on Meng Jiang. He took a ragged, deep breath. "Alright, you ugly bastard. Let's do this."
The Demon Apostle, a Level 8 zombie with near-human intelligence, understood the insult perfectly. "For that," it rasped, its voice a mockery of human speech, "your death will be slow. I will open your throat and drink your life drop by drop, until you are nothing but a dried husk."
Its fleshy wings beat the air, and it launched itself forward with unnatural speed. Its claws, sharper than any surgeon's scalpel, aimed for Xiao Ke's throat.
Xiao Ke met the attack head-on, his blade a dark arc of defiance. Seeing the incoming steel, the Apostle instantly changed tactics, its claws redirecting to intercept the blade itself. There was a grating shriek of metal on bone-hard chitin. To Xiao Ke's shock, the monster's hand clamped down on his blade, its grip like a vise. The razor-sharp edge of Meng Jiang, which could shear through lesser zombies with ease, couldn't sever its fingers.
Before Xiao Ke could wrench his weapon free, the Apostle twisted its body with explosive force. It used the blade as a lever and flung him through the air.
Xiao Ke flew, weightless for a terrifying second, on a collision course with a thick tree trunk that would surely snap his spine. Just as impact was imminent, a black shadow shot out from the woods.
"Big Brother, look out!" a voice cried.
A figure leaped into the air, arms outstretched, and caught him. The landing was soft, jarring him from the brink of oblivion. He found himself in a surprisingly gentle embrace, the faint, familiar scent of something clean and fragrant filling his senses. He looked up, stunned, into the beautiful, worried face of Ye Yun, so close he could see the flicker of concern in her eyes. For a disorienting moment, he thought, Third Brother… he really looks like a woman up close.
A faint blush colored Ye Yun's cheeks as she steadied him. "Are you okay, Big Brother? Can you stand?"
The awkwardness of the situation hit Xiao Ke, and he quickly pulled away, scrambling to his feet. "—I'm fine," he stammered. "Third Brother, what are you doing here?"
Ye Yun wouldn't admit she'd been worried sick and had doubled back to find him almost as soon as they'd separated. She'd spent hours tracking him, only to arrive at this horrific scene. Seeing him thrown like a doll, her instincts had taken over, her disguise forgotten in the heat of the moment. Thankfully, Xiao Ke seemed as dense as ever, completely oblivious to the fact that he'd just been held by a woman.
"After we split up, I found tracks from a high-level zombie," she said, her composure returning. "I was following them when I stumbled upon the fight."
"What a hell of a coincidence," Xiao Ke said, a grim laugh escaping him. "Well, your timing is perfect. This Level 8 Apostle took out Liang Jian. I'm not sure I can take it alone. But together…"
Ye Yun's gaze shifted to the Demon Apostle, which was circling them, waiting for an opening. Her hand went to the hilt of her own sword, and her expression became one of cool, lethal focus. "Alright. Let's kill this thing."
She drew her blade, Mingyue. It was an heirloom of the Ye family, a sword of legendary quality. As she channeled her Origin Power into it, the blade began to glow with a soft, ethereal light, like captured moonlight. A faint, cold mist swirled around its edges.
With a dancer's grace, she moved. "I'll take point, Big Brother! You support me!"
"Got it!"
The Apostle was smart. It saw the radiant power of Ye Yun's lightsaber and knew instantly that she was the greater threat. It feigned a lunge at her, then, with a sudden, deceptive shift, it veered and charged straight for Xiao Ke, aiming to eliminate the weaker opponent first.
But with Ye Yun at his side, Xiao Ke's fear had been replaced by grim resolve. He met the charge, his blade ready. As soon as they engaged, Ye Yun was there, a silver flash at the Apostle's flank. Her lightsaber hissed through the air.
The Apostle twisted, trying to dodge, but it wasn't fast enough. The glowing edge of Mingyue caught its left wing. Like a hot knife through butter, the lightsaber sheared straight through the leathery appendage, slicing half of it clean off.
The zombie let out a silent roar of fury. It felt no pain, but the damage crippled its balance and power. Enraged, it abandoned Xiao Ke and turned its full, frenzied attention on Ye Yun, its claws a blur of motion, tearing at the air where she stood.
Ye Yun was a leaf on the wind, effortlessly weaving through the storm of attacks, her blade darting out to parry and counter-strike. She was more than holding her own.
And that gave Xiao Ke the opening he needed.
While the Apostle was consumed with attacking Ye Yun, its back was completely exposed. Xiao Ke moved in, silent and swift. He raised Meng Jiang high above his head with both hands, channeling all his strength into a single, decisive blow. His attack lacked the elegance of a lightsaber, but it carried the unstoppable, crushing weight of a collapsing mountain.
CRUNCH!
The blade slammed into the Demon Apostle's back. It didn't slice deep—the creature's hide was too tough—but it delivered a payload of pure kinetic fury. The force of the impact was so immense that it shattered the monster's spine and, with an audible squelch, pulverized its internal organs into a thick slurry.
The creature's body contorted, its spine broken, but its rage kept it moving. It twisted impossibly, ready to make one last, desperate attack on Xiao Ke.
It never got the chance.
A streak of moonlight cut through the dark. Ye Yun's lightsaber pierced the Apostle's throat from the side, and with a powerful twist, she tore its head from its shoulders.
The headless body stood for a second, then crashed to the ground like a felled tree.
Silence returned to the forest, broken only by the ragged, gasping breaths of the two survivors. Xiao Ke stared at the corpse, the adrenaline finally starting to fade, leaving a deep, trembling exhaustion in its wake.
"That was too close," he breathed. "But… we got him. We actually got him."
Ye Yun smiled, the moonlight of her blade illuminating her face. "We did. After killing a Demon Apostle, our score in this hunt is going to be more than just 'not bad'."