Night fell over Longyuan city. From a distance, the towers of the Guangming Academy glowed softly under the lantern light, like a cluster of stars fallen to earth.
But behind the tranquility, something was slowly moving—something unseen by the eyes of ordinary people.
Two shadows had entered the city.
Two names known only within the secret circles of Han: Han Mei and Shen Wuhen, elite members of the Northern Star—the best infiltrators remaining after the failed mission of Mo Cangwu's group.
They came not for war,
but to hunt one figure—
the First Shadow of the Xiyang Empire.
🌒 Longyuan City, Night
The Longyuan sky was shrouded in a thin mist. Below, the stone streets were still bustling with night merchants, but among the market sounds and the lantern songs, two figures walked in silence.
Shen Wuhen split off at the end of the east road.
"The palace spies are moving in the west of the city," he said quietly before parting. "I will investigate them. You focus around the Guangming Academy."
Han Mei merely nodded. "If he is indeed hiding here, I will find him."
They then dispersed, like two leaves falling in different directions of the wind.
🩵 Han Mei in Longyuan
The houses surrounding the Guangming Academy stood neatly, with plum blossom gardens beginning to wilt in the late season.
Han Mei walked slowly under the moonlight, wearing a deep blue robe and a black douli hat decorated with gold.
Her steps were light, almost soundless—every movement like a dancer who knew the floor by heart.
She stopped in front of an old, empty house, taking it over without arousing suspicion.
From there, she could clearly monitor the academy gate.
"Longyuan..." she murmured softly, her eyes staring at the majestic Guangming tower.
"There are rumors from the remnants of Mo Cangwu's followers that the First Shadow is one of the Guangming Academy disciples."
She still remembered—the "Red Devil Masked Man", the bounty hunter who massacred all of Han's forces five years ago in Tianmen, including her father.
And now a new rumor circulated: that hunter was still alive and had changed into the First Shadow of the Xiyang Empire, removing Xiyang officials who had once conspired with Han.
Han Mei clenched her hand.
"If he is truly alive... I will find him."
Her tone was quiet, but her eyes burned sharply.
"And I myself will avenge my father's death."
🌸 The Following Morning
Morning mist hung around the academy.
Han Mei disguised herself as a bounty hunter from Fenghuang seeking medical treatment in Longyuan.
She walked slowly on the small road in front of the academy gate, looking around calmly—until suddenly someone passed from the opposite direction.
Their bodies lightly brushed.
Han Mei's douli hat fell off, rolling on the ground.
"Excuse me," the man's voice was deep and calm.
Han Mei quickly bent down to retrieve her hat, but the man had already stooped, picking it up with a light motion.
He lifted the douli, glancing at the face of the woman before him.
Long copper-red hair, wary blue-gray eyes, and a cold, disciplined aura.
But Lin Xuan showed no expression.
"It's alright," he said flatly, handing the douli back.
Han Mei took her hat, bowing slightly. "Thank you, sir."
Her tone was gentle but firm.
Lin Xuan looked at her for a moment, then said,
"The color of your hair is rare in Longyuan. Where are you from?"
Han Mei gave a faint smile—a smile not entirely sincere.
"Fenghuang. I am a wanderer, looking for medicine for my family."
"Fenghuang?" Lin Xuan repeated slowly. "That place is far from here. Are you traveling alone?"
Han Mei nodded. "I am used to walking in silence. The wind knows my way."
That sentence made Lin Xuan look at her a little longer.
The answer was not that of an ordinary wanderer.
Her tone, her posture, even the position of her hands which were always close to the sword hilt—everything was too disciplined.
But he still smiled faintly. "Be careful in Longyuan. This city is beautiful on the outside, but many shadows lurk behind the light."
Han Mei raised an eyebrow slightly. "You sound like someone who knows shadows."
"Sometimes," Lin Xuan replied, gazing at the Guangming tower in the distance, "the light only shines because the shadow chooses to reside beneath it."
Han Mei looked at him with an enigmatic gaze, but only offered a thin smile.
"An interesting phrase. Perhaps I will remember it."
"In that case," Lin Xuan bowed slightly, "may your journey in Longyuan not end in a dark place."
As Han Mei walked away, Lin Xuan remained standing.
The morning breeze touched his red-and-black robe.
In his eyes, there was tranquility—but also a sharp vigilance that no one saw.
"Northern Star..." he murmured softly.
"You are too cautious to be just a wanderer."
He watched the direction the woman disappeared into the mist.
"So, Han finally sent you here."
Night in another place, on the roof of a tea house near the river
Shen Wuhen sat leaning against a wooden pillar, a wine jug in his hand.
From there, he could see the streets of Longyuan and the academy lanterns from afar.
The night wind carried the sound of faint footsteps, and Wuhen looked to the east, to where Han Mei had walked this morning.
The night mist hung over the tea house roof, like a thin curtain separating the real world from the secret world.
Shen Wuhen was still there, wine jug in hand, his eyes narrowed, staring at the reflection of the moon on the calm surface of the Longyuan river.
Below him, merchant boats passed slowly, the sound of water like a secret whisper.
He took a sip of the wine, then said without turning,
"Han Mei should have reached the east side of the academy. If she met someone today... it was no coincidence."
The wind answered gently, carrying a distant sound—
the chime of the Guangming temple bell sounding three times, signaling the change of the night guard.
Wuhen placed the jug beside him, then took out a small scroll from inside his robe.
The scroll did not contain a map, but a piece of handwriting—the last report from the remaining Han spy network in Xiyang.
The writing contained only one sentence:
> "All of Mo Cangwu's paths are dead. The killer is called the First Shadow."
>
Wuhen's fingers stopped over the writing.
His silver eyes glinted faintly under the lantern light.
He slowly closed the scroll, then whispered, "I really want to meet him..."
A soft voice from another rooftop replied from the darkness.
"Shen Wuhen," the voice was cold but familiar. "Still thinking about him?"
A figure in a black robe stepped out of the shadows—an old man with a scar on his cheek and an inverted dragon emblem on his belt.
An old liaison from the Northern Star.
"We have waited a long time for certainty," he continued quietly. "But now it is clear—that person is in Longyuan."
Wuhen did not look at him. "I know."
"And what is your plan?"
He was silent for a moment, then answered briefly, "Observe. Not kill."
The liaison frowned. "That is not an order from Han."
"Han's orders are not always wise," Wuhen cut in coldly.
"If the First Shadow is truly as they say—then killing him will only provoke a greater destruction."
The figure looked at him sharply. "You are starting to sound like a Xiyang person, Shen Wuhen."
Wuhen smiled faintly, but his eyes remained cold.
"Or perhaps I am just learning to understand my enemy."
He turned, looking towards the Guangming tower in the distance.
The lantern light there trembled, as if holding something alive.
"Han Mei may have met him today," he said calmly. "But she does not know who she met."
The liaison bowed slightly. "And you will not warn her?"
"No," Wuhen replied curtly. "Because a partial truth is more dangerous when spoken too soon."
When the liaison left, Wuhen remained silent.
He picked up the wine jug again, took a sip, and looked up at the dark night sky.
The sound of wine dripping onto the ground was clear amid the silence.
* Earlier that afternoon in Longyuan, there was a story of a renewed meeting.
Sunlight pierced the gaps in the bamboo roof, casting a golden reflection on the stone street.
In front of the Guangming Academy, an old tea stall named Yu Lan Ju was crowded with young students who had just finished their training. The sound of laughter and clinking cups softened the usually serious atmosphere of the city.
In a corner of the room, a woman with copper-red hair sat alone.
Han Mei—or her false name, Miss Feng—was writing something in a small notebook.
In front of her, a cup of jasmine tea had gone cold.
She looked like an ordinary wanderer, but her eyes occasionally glanced at the window's reflection—watching the direction people came from, the habit of a hunter.
Until a soft voice broke the small silence.
"Do you like jasmine tea?"
Han Mei turned slowly.
The man stood before her, his red-and-black robe conspicuous among the crowd.
His face was calm, his black eyes like mirrors reflecting the afternoon light.
Lin Xuan.
Han Mei was silent for a fraction of a second—not out of surprise, but because it felt strange.
In a city as big as Longyuan, they met again just like that?
"It's you, sir," she said flatly, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "An interesting coincidence."
"Or perhaps fate," the man replied lightly, sitting down uninvited.
"I was passing by, seeing someone staring out the window without drinking their tea. It seemed a shame for such good tea to go to waste."
He picked up the teapot and poured tea into a new cup in front of himself.
Han Mei looked at him, half-smiling.
"Not everyone comes to a tea stall to drink. Some come to think."
"And some," the man replied casually, "come to watch other people think."
Their eyes met for a moment.
There was no aura of hostility, but the air between them felt like a thin thread ready to snap.
A few minutes passed in silence.
Only the sound of a spoon clinking against a cup, and occasionally the sound of merchants passing outside.
Han Mei finally said,
"This Longyuan... is quieter than I imagined. A big city, but not many people talk."
"Because everyone here knows, even the walls can hear," the man replied, turning the cup in his hand.
"Especially around the Guangming Academy. Many things seem peaceful on the surface, but hide something underneath."
Han Mei looked at him sharply—that sentence felt like a test for her.
Was this man just speaking idly, or was he probing?
"You sound like someone who knows this place well."
"A little," Lin Xuan said calmly. "I was also a part of that academy... before they erased my name from the student list."
Han Mei nearly swallowed—a small but clear reflex.
Expelled from the Guangming Academy?
But she quickly covered her reaction, feigning calm.
"Ah... sometimes the path of life is not the same place where we start."
"Exactly," the man nodded slightly. "And sometimes, the person who is expelled is the one who knows the hidden truth best."
The afternoon breeze blew softly, carrying the scent of tea and plum blossoms.
Han Mei looked at the man longer.
There was something inexplicable about him—
a mixed feeling of caution and irrepressible curiosity.
"You speak like someone who has two meanings in every word," she said quietly.
The man smiled faintly.
"That's because the world always has two sides—light and shadow."
"And which do you prefer?" Han Mei asked.
The man looked at his teacup, the steam reflecting in his eyes like a soft mist.
"Shadow," he finally said. "Because from there I can see how pure the light is."
Han Mei was silent.
Those words stirred something in her chest—
as if the man was talking about something much deeper than just philosophy.
There was a cold honesty behind his every word.
"You speak like someone who has lived in the darkness."
The man looked at her without a smile this time.
"If one never looks at the dark, one will not know the light is real."
Silence.
Han Mei looked down, pretending to adjust her hat.
In her heart, somehow, there was a small tremor she didn't understand.
This man... was dangerous. But also captivating.
Something inside her said—don't get too close.
Yet curiosity made her unable to leave.
"I don't know your name," Han Mei said quietly, trying to break the tension. "May I know who this man who likes to speak in shadows is?"
"Lin," the man replied briefly. "People used to call me Lin Xuan."
Han Mei repeated softly, as if savoring the name on her tongue.
"Lin Xuan..."
She smiled faintly. "A name that sounds ordinary, but... somehow, it feels heavy."
Lin Xuan looked at her flatly. "A name is just a vessel. What makes it heavy is what it carries."
He then leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharp yet gentle.
"Now it's your turn," he said softly. "What is your name, wanderer from Fenghuang?"
Han Mei hesitated for a moment, before offering a thin smile.
"My name is Feng Mei," she said—blending a delicate lie with a light tone.
Only the tone, not the truth.
"Feng Mei," Lin Xuan repeated slowly, as if weighing the meaning behind the sound. "A gentle name... but your eyes are not."
Han Mei lowered her gaze slightly, concealing her expression.
"Eyes that see the world are not always gentle, Master Lin."
"True," he replied calmly. "But eyes that stare too long into the shadow... sometimes forget the direction of the light."
A moment of silence.
The steam of the tea between them moved slowly like mist covering a secret.
"I will remember your words, Master Lin," Han Mei said.
"Perhaps now we can talk about something lighter."
"Miss Mei, I hear you are looking for medicine? Would you like me to show you a good place?" Lin Xuan invited.
Han Mei smiled.
"With pleasure,"
The two figures then walked side-by-side, leaving Yu Lan Ju, enveloped in the fading golden light.
However, a hundred li to the north, the color of the sky was different.
There, the sky was no longer blue.
It was gray—heavy, and smelled of blood.
The Battle of Tianmen
The mist of war still clung to the ground of Tianmen.
Torn Xiyang flags fluttered over the fortress, while the spilled blood had not completely dried.
Hundreds of soldiers worked silently, patching walls, lighting torches, and lifting the bodies of fallen comrades.
A light rain fell from the sky, as if even the gods were reluctant to look at this land again.
In the center of the fortress stood a large tent with a golden dragon emblem—General Hwang's headquarters.
Inside, the general sat on a couch, his body wrapped in bandages from shoulder to chest.
The faint lightning scar from Hei Zhen's spear still glowed faintly on his skin.
But his eyes remained alive—sharp, calm, like a rock that a storm could not shatter.
A young officer entered, kneeling in front of the tent.
"General, the Han forces have retreated two li to the north. They are encamped in the stone valley, no sign of re-engagement."
Hwang merely nodded. "Order all units to remain on high alert. Tianmen must not be careless again."
"Yes, General!"
When the soldier left, Hwang leaned back in his seat, looking at the great sword Tianheng Dao resting near the table.
The sword was silent, but in his eyes, he saw the reflection of the night five years ago—the first night of Tianmen.
The night when fifty thousand people vanished, and the world named him the "Hero of Tianmen".
"Hero..."
He looked up at the sky outside the tent. "A word that feels heavier every time it is spoken."
Meanwhile, outside the fortress, the north wind blew fiercely.
A thin mist enveloped the plain in front of the Xiyang camp.
And from the mist, one figure emerged—walking slowly but surely, his steps seemingly not touching the ground.
His robe was long, blue-black with silver lines on the edge, and on his head was a black douli with a white cloud pattern that covered part of his face.
His dark red hair hung over his shoulders, swaying with his calm breathing.
In his hand, not a spear—but a Yanyuedao (偃月刀), a large blade curved like a crescent moon, glistening coldly under the light rain.
Every step made the air tremble softly, as if the ground itself held its breath.
His gaze was flat, emotionless.
Mo Xinghai.
The Leader of the Northern Star.
The shadow hunter who was never seen, but always left a trail of death behind him.
He walked straight towards the Xiyang camp, as if mist and iron fences were no obstacle.
"Stop right there!" shouted the guard soldier.
A dozen Xiyang troops ran to block him, lowering their spears into a combat stance.
"Who are you!? This is the territory of the Tianmen fortress!"
Mo Xinghai did not reply.
He kept walking. His steps were light, but every time his foot touched the ground, the air around him subtly trembled.
An invisible spiritual pressure made the leaves on the ground float.
"Stop, or we will attack!"
Still no answer.
One nervous soldier finally charged first—his spear thrusting towards Mo Xinghai's chest.
In an instant, a blue light flashed.
CLANG!
The soldier's body was thrown ten steps back before he could scream, his chest split thinly from shoulder to waist—a single clean slash from the Yanyuedao.
Silence. No sound except the rustle of the wind.
All the remaining troops tensed.
One commander stared intently. "You're a Han person, aren't you? What do you want!?"
Mo Xinghai finally stopped, turning his Yanyuedao slightly towards the ground.
His voice was calm, but echoed as if from inside the mist.
"I want to meet General Hwang."
The soldiers looked at each other.
"What is your business with our General!?"
"My business is simple," he replied flatly. "I want to know if he deserves the title of the Hero of Tianmen."
The tone of his sentence made the air seem to freeze.
Then in the blink of an eye, Mo Xinghai disappeared from his spot.
Three soldiers in the front line fell with clean slashes on their necks.
"ATTACK!!!"
The commander's voice echoed throughout the camp.
The battle erupted.
Hundreds of soldiers ran from the tents, but all they saw was mist—and a shadow that moved too fast for the eye to follow.
Every flash of blue arc from the Yanyuedao meant someone fell.
The large weapon danced like a moon cutting through a storm, no unnecessary movement, no sound.
Only death remained behind him.
"Monster... he's not human!"
"Don't retreat! Protect the General's tent!"
But one by one, the lines collapsed.
In a matter of minutes, half of the five thousand Xiyang soldiers on guard were lying on the ground—either dead or unconscious.
Inside the tent, General Hwang opened his eyes.
"Report, General! Someone is attacking the outer line! Many of our soldiers have fallen!"
Hwang stood up slowly, putting on his armor, even though the bandage on his chest was still damp with blood.
"Who is the enemy?"
"Unknown, General. But he slashes like... like lightning!"
Hwang looked out of the tent, the night wind entering, carrying the smell of iron.
"Lightning again, huh?"
He raised his Tianheng Dao sword, then stepped out.
The mist outside split as his figure appeared.
The soldiers still standing backed away, making a path.
At the edge of the field, Mo Xinghai stood on a pile of wooden debris, his Yanyuedao dripping blood.
A faint blue light from the blade reflected in the night mist.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, time stopped.
Hwang's voice was calm, but full of pressure.
"You have killed enough people tonight. Tell me your name, and I will grant you an honorable death."
Mo Xinghai looked at him flatly. "I did not come for honor. I came for truth."
"And what truth are you seeking in enemy territory?"
"The truth of who killed fifty thousand Han soldiers five years ago."
Hwang tensed. The mist around him swirled.
Mo Xinghai raised his Yanyuedao, a thin blue light pulsing along its curved blade.
"They call you the Hero of Tianmen. I came to see if that title is still deserved."
Hwang lowered his sword to a ready position, his breathing steady despite his still-open wound.
"I never asked for that title. But if you want to test my blood—"
He swung his sword to the side, slicing the dust.
"—then test it with your weapon, not with your mouth."
The mist roiled.
Mo Xinghai smiled faintly—not out of pleasure, but because he had finally found a worthy opponent.
"That's how a hero should speak."
And in the next second, the world exploded.
Sword and Yanyuedao met in the air, creating a shockwave that shook the entire Tianmen fortress.
The ground cracked, the torch fires went out, and the sky turned red from the energy sparks of two men who had surpassed their limits.
"Tianheng Dao—Sky Fortress!"
"Northern Star—Shadow Slash!"
The collision of the two techniques destroyed the line of ground between them, splitting the mist, and creating a mini-storm in the middle of the plain.
Blood and dust danced in the air, but neither of them flinched.
One fought for honor, one for truth.
Two different worlds—bound by the same event.
And when the light of their weapons clashed for the umpteenth time, the sky of Tianmen reflected two figures like the shadows of war gods.
Yet no one knew—who would still be standing after the storm subsided.
The storm in Tianmen has not subsided.
But far to the south, in the tranquil city of Longyuan, two figures have entered an old shop at the end of the market street.
The sign above the door swayed slowly:
"Yao Ji Tang—The Medicine Hall of the Soul."
The door of the old shop creaked softly as it opened.
A small bell hanging above it jingled, greeted by the scent of tea and dried spices that filled the air.
Old wooden shelves lined up tightly, glass bottles containing colored liquids hung in the yellow lantern light.
In the center of the room, Lin Xuan walked first, pulling back a faded bamboo curtain.
"Come in," he said casually. "This place is a bit dusty, but the owner is good at keeping things others throw away."
Han Mei stepped slowly, her eyes scanning the entire room.
"This place... is so hidden. I didn't even see anyone outside earlier."
Lin Xuan smiled faintly, closing the door behind them.
"That's because this place is not for everyone."
Han Mei turned. "Not for everyone?"
"Some of the concoctions here are not sold in the regular market," Lin Xuan replied.
He walked past a shelf, his fingers touching a bottle containing a purplish-black liquid.
"Some can heal the body. Some—remind the soul."
Han Mei watched him. "You talk like someone who knows a lot about medicine."
"A little," Lin Xuan said casually. "I once learned from someone who liked to play with poisons."
The tone was light, but to Han Mei, it sounded odd.
"Poison? Was there a teacher like that at Guangming Academy?"
Lin Xuan looked at the bottle in his hand for a moment before answering, "Not at the academy, exactly. More... outside its walls."
Han Mei did not pay attention.
She was busy examining another shelf and reading the black ink labels.
"You said this place 'is good at keeping things thrown away'," she said without turning. "Do you come here often?"
"Yes, I did," Lin Xuan replied flatly. "When I was still learning things that were considered dangerous by the holy people."
Han Mei laughed softly. "You really sound like someone who was expelled from a holy place."
"I was, so, Miss Mei, what medicine are you actually looking for? For your body... or something else?"
Han Mei offered a faint smile, hiding her restlessness behind a calm demeanor.
"One for my family and the other for someone who has lost their way," she said gently.
"Perhaps that kind of medicine is the rarest in the world."
Lin Xuan did not answer.
He just looked at her for a long time, before finally saying softly,
"In that case, perhaps you have come to the right place."
He approached, taking a bottle of white powder from the shelf.
He held it up to the lantern light, then said softly:
"For someone who has walked a long way but does not know the end of their journey... this concoction can calm the breath. But not the heart."
Han Mei took the bottle. "What's the difference?"
"One heals," Lin Xuan said, looking straight at her.
"The other covers the wound."
That look made Han Mei slightly awkward. She turned her face away, laughing softly.
"You talk like a famous physician."
Lin Xuan smiled faintly, but did not answer.
In his heart, he was already certain.
Han Mei's posture and hand movements—all characteristic of a Northern Star member.
Too calm for an ordinary person, too disciplined for just a wanderer.
Han Mei put the small bottle back on the shelf, her finger touching the thin dust on its surface.
"A place like this," she said, looking around, "is strange but soothing. I almost forgot the main reason why I came to Longyuan."
Lin Xuan raised a light eyebrow. "Reason?"
Han Mei glanced at him.
"Medicine. But... perhaps also curiosity."
Her tone was gentle, but her blue-gray eyes reflected something harder.
Lin Xuan leaned his back against the wooden table, his arms folded.
"Curiosity can also be a poison," he said softly.
"Once swallowed, there is no turning back."
Han Mei smiled faintly. "Perhaps. But I am not someone who fears poison."
"Yes," Lin Xuan retorted flatly. "I know."
That remark made Han Mei pause—but only for a moment.
She thought it was just a metaphor, when in fact Lin Xuan was confirming that he truly knew who Han Mei was.
To keep the conversation light, Han Mei changed the topic.
"By the way, I heard a strange rumor in Longyuan lately."
"Rumor?" Lin Xuan looked at her as if uninterested, but his gaze was sharp, waiting for the direction of the conversation.
"Yes," Han Mei replied, looking out the shop window. "People say, in the Xiyang palace now there is a figure called the First Shadow. They say he eliminated all the officials who betrayed the emperor... without ever being seen."
Lin Xuan pretended to smile. "Ah, rumors like that always appear in times of peace. People need stories to scare themselves."
Han Mei turned back to him, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.
"But strangely, all the names killed were people who were once involved in secret dealings with Han."
Lin Xuan looked at her without blinking. "And what is your opinion, Miss Feng?"
Han Mei stared back, calmly.
"I think, if the rumor is true, the First Shadow must not be an ordinary human."
"Why is that?"
"Because a human could not possibly eliminate all those people alone, without leaving a trace."
She looked down slightly, her finger touching the edge of the table.
"They say, that person is like a hunting spirit from the north. Comes in the night, and disappears just as quickly."
Lin Xuan chuckled softly.
"A good story. But the people of Xiyang are indeed skilled at creating legends."
"So you don't believe it?"
Lin Xuan pretended to think, then replied softly, "Believe it or not is not the point. What matters is: if that Shadow truly exists... it is better not to try and find him."
Han Mei looked at him for a while, trying to read his meaning.
"And if someone is actually looking for him?"
"In that case," Lin Xuan stared back, his smile thin but sharp,
"they should know whether they are the hunter—or the prey."
The small lantern crackled with a gust of wind.
For a moment, Han Mei could not answer.
There was something in Lin Xuan's gaze—not like an ordinary person, nor like a wanderer.
That gaze was deep, but felt dangerous... like someone who had seen death too closely.
Han Mei looked down again, trying to calm her thoughts.
"Perhaps you are right," she said softly. "Sometimes people are better off not knowing."
Lin Xuan looked at her for a moment, then took a small bottle from the table.
"This is for you. A mixture of teak root and jasmine leaf. Good for peaceful sleep."
Han Mei accepted it politely. "Thank you."
"Sleep well tonight," he said, turning around.
"Longyuan may seem peaceful... but not everything that walks in the night carries good intentions."
Han Mei only smiled faintly. "You truly speak as if you are accustomed to living among shadows."
Lin Xuan paused at the doorway.
"Not accustomed," he said softly, without turning.
"Just knowing how they move."
He stepped out of the shop, leaving her with an inexplicable confusion.
Han Mei walked beside Lin Xuan, both their steps calm, only the sound of sandals scuffing the stone could be heard.
The shop behind them had its curtains closed, but the silence between them had not truly left.
"May I ask you something?" Lin Xuan's voice sounded flat, but there was a tone of curiosity that was almost a whisper.
Han Mei turned slightly. "Of course."
"I'm curious," he said softly. "You mentioned the First Shadow earlier... why would someone want to look for him? Are you interested in him too?"
Han Mei paused for a moment. Her steps slowed.
"Not interested," she finally said. "More accurately... I want to know if he truly exists."
Lin Xuan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his smile faint. "A brave reason for someone who is just looking for medicine."
Han Mei turned, half-challenging. "Do you think I'm lying?"
"No," Lin Xuan replied gently. "Only... people who look for the First Shadow usually do so for a reason. Usually because they have lost something—or someone."
Han Mei stopped.
There was a long pause before she answered.
"People say," her voice was almost a whisper, "the First Shadow is the same person as the Red Devil Masked Man. That's why I came here."
Lin Xuan's steps also stopped.
He looked straight ahead, then laughed softly. Not a joyful laugh—more like a laugh at a coincidence that was too perfect.
"Hahaha... I see," he said, shaking his head lightly. "The Red Devil Masked Man is the First Shadow? That's a good conspiracy."
He looked directly at Han Mei, his black eyes deep, but his lips still curved slightly.
"You speak like someone who holds a grudge against him."
Han Mei froze.
Her words just now... were too honest. She realized, she had just said too much.
But the word was out—it couldn't be taken back.
She quickly looked down, trying to compose her expression. "I'm just repeating what I heard."
"Of course," Lin Xuan said softly. "But the way you said it—is like someone who wants to redeem something."
His tone was gentle, but every word felt pressing.
Han Mei could not tell whether this man was testing her... or warning her.
A few more steps, and they arrived at a crossroad. Lanterns swayed in the wind.
Lin Xuan stopped there, looking at her one last time.
"May I ask one last thing?"
Han Mei tried to smile calmly. "Go ahead."
Lin Xuan looked deeply at her, his voice dropping a tone.
"Have you ever been his victim?"
Han Mei's blood seemed to stop flowing.
The air felt cold.
She wanted to answer, but her voice was lost in her throat.
Lin Xuan just smiled faintly, looking at her like someone who had known the answer all along.
"No need to answer," he said softly. "Your eyes have already spoken."
He then turned, walking without haste, leaving her alone at the crossroad.
Han Mei stood still, her hand gripping the small bottle he gave her.
In her chest, there was a strange feeling—between fear, anger, and something she could not name.
And for the first time, Han Mei felt that this man was not just someone she met on the street. A man who knew many things.
...But what made Han Mei uneasy—the man did not ask further.
He did not accuse, did not pressure, did not try to find out who she was.
It was his very calmness, as if he knew everything from the beginning, that made her heart beat faster.
She looked at Lin Xuan's back as it began to disappear around the corner.
The steps were light... but every step was clear in her ears, like an echo that refused to fade.
"Your eyes have already spoken," he had said.
That sentence kept spinning in her head, making her chest feel tight.
Han Mei gripped the small bottle tighter, her fingers trembling.
She could feel a strange coldness creeping from its surface, whether from the night air—or from her own thoughts.
"Who are you really, Lin Xuan...?"
The whisper was only heard by herself.
The Longyuan wind blew softly, making her douli hat sway.
She took a deep breath and walked again, but her steps now felt heavy—not because of a burden on her body, but in her mind.
In the distance, from the roof of an old inn, Lin Xuan stood in silence.
He watched Han Mei slowly walk away under the lantern light.
His gaze was calm, but in those eyes was something much colder than the night.
One hand was folded behind his red-and-black robe, while the other held a small piece of paper containing the Northern Star emblem sign—which he had found in the old shop earlier.
"Han Mei..." he murmured slowly, almost like a sigh of wind.
"You came to Longyuan not just for medicine. But for me."
He closed his eyes for a moment, the wind gently blowing his robe.
Under his breath, a soft whisper was heard,
"But it is not yet time for you to know which shadow you are chasing."
Then, like mist dissolving into the night, Lin Xuan's figure disappeared from the rooftop—without a sound, without a trace.
Would you like me to translate another text for you, or perhaps help you find the meaning of any specific terms?