The group had pushed through the day’s journey in silence, stopping only when darkness swallowed the last trace of light. Through narrow gaps in the canopy, faint stars flickered like distant embers, quickly lost to the shifting leaves.

  When they finally found a clearing, the crackle of firewood split the quiet as flames licked upward, casting flickering orange light against their tired faces. The tents went up quickly, their shadows bending and stretching on the uneven ground.

  Su Yuerong lingered near the fire for a moment, her pale face catching the glow, before slipping back into her tent. Her movements were slow, careful—still bearing the stiffness of injury. Xiao Lei remained by the fire, sitting a short distance away from the little girl, Zi Lian. The flames painted his bare arms in sharp contrast, scars etched like white rivers across his skin.

  The other three men moved in the darkness, scattering beast waste around the edges of the camp. The bitter stench mixed with the earthy smell of damp leaves and the faint metallic tang of blood.

  Lian’s voice filled the silence with the innocent rhythm of a child who feared quiet more than the forest itself. She spoke about things that barely touched his world—small observations, half-formed questions. Then her gaze fell on the scars across his hands. She reached out, small fingers brushing the rough skin. Xiao Lei recoiled, the movement sharp, almost instinctive.

  Her eyes glistened in the firelight. “Big brother… I’m sorry. Does it still hurt?”

  He looked at her, then back to the flames. His voice, when it came, was flat. “No.” Just one word, carried away by the wind.

  Before Lian could speak again, Zi Yunshen emerged from the shadows. The old man’s presence was quiet but heavy, as if the night itself bent around him. He glanced toward Su Yuerong’s tent, then at the two men who were still busy at the camp’s edge. Finally, his eyes settled on the pair by the fire.

  Lian, oblivious to the tension threading the air, staring at the scars that crisscrossed Xiao Lei’s arms.

  “Grandpa… why does big brother fight so much if it hurts him?”

  Zi Yunshen’s gaze softened for a fraction, then cooled again.

  “Some fight because they must. Others… because the pain reminds them they’re alive.”

  He crouched to stir the fire with a stick, his voice dropping lower, almost to himself, though Xiao Lei could hear every word.

  Then his gaze locked onto Xiao Lei. Not a casual glance, but a look that seemed to weigh and measure every shadow within him. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost drowned by the crackle of flames.

  “Greed walks faster than fear,” he said, as if speaking to the fire rather than the boy.

  “Stay clear of its path… unless you plan to follow it.”

  Xiao Lei lowered his gaze, letting his voice catch faintly.

  “I don’t even know what I’d be chasing… I just want to make it out alive.”

  Zi Yunshen’s eyes lingered a moment longer, then drifted away as the others returned. Shadows stretched long as they ate in near silence, the fire’s glow dimming to faint embers.

  One by one, the camp sank into stillness.

  Laying in one of the tent, Xiao Lei’s eyes remained open—cold, watchful. Tonight would not pass quietly.

  The night deepened, drawing frost into the air until every breath carried a thin shiver. The camp dozed under brittle hush, frost creeping between breaths. Then, without warning, the flap of a tent stirred—not from the wind, but from movement.

  Three shadows slipped into the open, their steps measured, breaths suppressed. Su Yuerong’s face was taut with tension, while Mo Liangyu and Shen Haoran moved with the cold intent of predators closing in. They exchanged a single glance, then advanced in perfect unison toward one tent, their presence bled into the hush of the forest, where every leaf seemed to hold its breath.

  Qi stirred faintly around them, threads of killing intent tightening in the air. Energy condensed at their fingertips, ready to strike. The forest seemed to hold its breath.

  Before their attacks could fall, a violent surge erupted from the targeted tent. Canvas tore apart as a blast of force flared outward, scattering ash and leaves like startled birds. The attackers were thrown back, boots scraping hard against the frozen earth.

  Old Man Zi stood where the tent had been, robes snapping in the wind of his own strike. His posture was steady, yet a shallow hitch in his breath and the faint tremor in his sleeve betrayed the strain of wounds that burned beneath his calm.

  His voice cut through the night, low and edged with contempt.

  “So… you couldn’t wait any longer?”

  For a heartbeat, fear flickered in the trio’s eyes, quickly buried beneath gritted teeth and hard resolve. The ambush had failed, and with it their advantage.

  Su Yuerong’s gaze darted, her breath shallow. Unlike the others, her task was different—find Zi Lian, seize the child, force surrender. Her eyes searched the shadows with growing urgency.

  Zi Yunshen’s lips curved in a cold, knowing smile.

  “Your act was convincing,” he said, voice laced with derision. “Too convincing. You overplayed it.”

  The woman’s face tightened, but she did not answer. It was Mo Liangyu who stepped forward, a sneer twisting his thin features.

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  “So what if you saw through us? It changes nothing. You won’t leave here alive. Hand over the Moonveil Orchid, and maybe the girl keeps her life.”

  Zi Yunshen’s laugh was short, cutting, as if the words themselves were a joke too pitiful to answer. The sneer on his face held no warmth, only the cold disdain of someone who had seen far worse threats than these.

  Even as the tension sharpened, Shen Haoran slipped to the side, his qi flaring in a sudden strike aimed not at the old man—but at another tent. The attack ripped through the canvas in an instant, scattering it into dust.

  The space within was empty. Only shadows stirred where Xiao Lei had lain, as if the boy had melted into the night, leaving nothing but silence behind.

  ?? — ? — ??

  The forest night clung to Xiao Lei like a shroud, damp with frost and threaded with the faint rustle of unseen things. He crouched low beneath the tangled roots of a half-fallen tree, breath shallow, every muscle held tight as a drawn bowstring.

  Beside him, Zi Lian slept with the fragile stillness of a child, her small chest rising and falling against the distant chorus of crickets. She did not stir, even when the distant clash of qi strikes rolled faintly through the trees like muffled thunder.

  Through the shifting shadows, flashes of battle flared—brief arcs of light, bursts of wind tearing leaves from their branches. Old Man Zi’s silhouette wove through those bursts, robes trailing like tattered clouds.

  He met the trio’s attacks head-on, parrying one after another, his strikes still sharp but carrying the strain of a body pushed beyond its limits. Each movement cost him. The air shivered under the weight of their clashing qi until, with a final surge, he forced them back in a blinding arc of force. The trio stumbled, boots grinding against the frozen earth.

  He did not linger. While they regrouped, the old man seized the fleeting gap. His figure blurred into the night, vanishing through the skeletal branches. Shouts cut after him—angry, desperate—but they splintered in the empty forest. Their footsteps scattered, chasing echoes. The sound of pursuit grew thin, then fell silent.

  A few breaths passed. The mist from Xiao Lei’s mouth hung in the air, trembling with the pulse of his heart. Then, from the opposite side of the clearing, Old Man Zi emerged again—alone. His steps were uneven, his breathing ragged. Blood traced the edge of his sleeve, dark against the pale moonlight. Even so, there was a controlled steadiness in his movements, as if sheer will stitched his body together.

  He stopped beside Xiao Lei’s hiding place and knelt by the girl. For a moment, his hand rested on Zi Lian’s head, fingers trembling faintly, brushing the strands of her hair with a tenderness that seemed at odds with the cold fury he had wielded moments before.

  Xiao Lei rose slightly from the shadows, his eyes catching the moonlight. “Why do you think I’m not with them?”

  The old man’s lips curved into something that was not quite a smile—more a shadow of amusement worn thin by exhaustion. “Kid,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but steady, “I’ve stood at death’s door more times than you’ve seen summers. You lie well, but when it comes to deception, you’ve got a long road to walk.”

  His eyes, sharp even through the fatigue, pinned Xiao Lei. “Their reluctance to save you told me all I needed. When Lian’er begged for that woman, they moved without hesitation. But for you? Not a spark. That contrast screamed louder than any words.”

  Xiao Lei stayed silent, the flicker of a frown crossing his face. His next words were quiet, almost lost to the whispering leaves.

  “When did you know your team would betray you?”

  Zi Yunshen let out a short, dry laugh that carried no humour. “Team? Hmph.”

  He shifted his weight against the tree. A sharp breath escaped as pain rippled across his features. Blood streaked down his sleeve, glistening like ink beneath the moon. For a moment, he steadied himself against the rough bark, the tremor in his hand betraying the effort. His gaze wandered into the shadows, as if retracing the steps that had led them here.

  “Only when I saw you fighting that beast,” he said, voice low and ragged. “That’s when suspicion took root. Their plan… was flawless. I’ll give them that.”

  A harsh cough tore through him. He doubled slightly, spitting blood into the frost-dark soil. The metallic tang lingered in the air, sharp and cold. When he raised his head, his eyes swept the treeline, scanning as though expecting the night itself to shift.

  “They were contacted,” he rasped, “by my enemies—long before we set foot in these woods.”

  His words came slower now, each one a weight.

  “That’s why they insisted on this route. Not our usual one. The ambush was ready—waiting to close the moment we stepped out of the trees.”

  The forest seemed to lean in around them. A stray gust stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and iron.

  His tone hardened, cutting through the stillness like a drawn blade.

  “But then…” His breath hitched. “…we found the Moonveil Orchid.”

  The night pressed close as he paused, exhaling a tremor with his pain.

  “Greed,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It twisted their plans.”

  Zi Yunshen shifted, lowering himself slightly as if the weight of his wounds had finally caught him. His arm shook faintly.

  “The woman—she was planted long ago. Feeding information to those who waited in the dark.”

  His eyes narrowed, as if seeing her face again in the shadowed trees.

  “When the orchid changed everything, they convinced her to use Lian as a hostage.”

  For a heartbeat, his gaze softened. He looked down at the sleeping girl, fingers brushing her hair with a tenderness that seemed to drain the cold from his eyes. The wind whispered through the branches, briefly easing the night’s tension.

  The moment passed. His expression hardened once more, jaw set like stone.

  “They thought fear would break me.”

  Xiao Lei opened his mouth, another question forming, but the old man cut him off with a raised hand. “Save it. I don’t have time.” His breath caught as he lowered himself briefly beside the girl again, the weight of his injuries pressing hard now.

  From his belt, he pulled a worn leather pouch and tossed it to Xiao Lei. The pouch landed in the boy’s hands with a dull weight, heavier than it seemed.

  “What you came for is inside,” Zi Yunshen said, his voice rough with both command and fatigue. “There are other things as well—spirit coins, some herbs, what little I can spare. Take Lian and go to Duskwillow City. My son lives there. He will protect her from here on.”

  Xiao Lei’s grip tightened on the pouch. His gaze flickered to the sleeping child, then to the endless dark where the forest thickened—an abyss of twisted branches and unseen predators. Duskwillow lay beyond that void. Escorting her there was madness. Suicide.

  Yet when he looked back, he did not see an old man anymore. He saw a grandfather who had wagered every drop of life he had left on this one fragile hope. The weight of that trust settled on Xiao Lei’s shoulders like cold iron. Zi Yunshen’s expression softened as his eyes lingered on Lian—pain and resolve warring in the lines of his face.

  The night shifted.

  A snap split the air—sharp, close. Branches cracked somewhere in the dark, followed by the hiss of leaves sliding against unseen forms. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath, the cold thickening until it bit the skin.

  Shapes bled out of the shadows. Three figures moved between the trees, their qi coiling like black smoke, pressing against the air with a predator’s hunger. The killing intent they carried was not shouted—it was cold, refined, and poisonous. Each step they took dimmed the moonlight, as though the night itself recoiled.

  Xiao Lei felt it first—the gnaw of fear crawling up his spine. He turned slightly, muscles taut, every sense screaming.

  Zi Yunshen straightened. The tremor in his limbs vanished beneath a surge of grim will. His qi rose, not as a shout, but as a storm building low to the ground. The faint glow spreading from his palm cast jagged shadows across his face, making the old man’s eyes burn like shards of frost.

  “They’re coming,” he said, voice low and final.

  The ground seemed to pulse beneath the weight of clashing energies waiting to be unleashed. Even the frost on the leaves shivered. Xiao Lei tightened his grip on the pouch, pressing Lian closer to his side.

  The three shadows stepped into the clearing at last.

  And with them, the night broke.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.