The three figures emerged from the treeline, shadows peeling away from them as they stepped into the faintest of moonlight. Their clothes were torn, streaked with blood and dirt. Su Yuerong’s face, pale before, now carried the waxy sheen of true weakness—her breaths shallow, her steps uneven. The men flanked her, eyes sharp, hostility hanging thick in the air.

  “Boy,” Mo Liangyu’s voice slithered through the stillness, low and mocking, “best you walk away. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, unless you want it cut off.” His grin revealed yellowed teeth, glinting in the firelight’s last embers.

  Shen Haoran’s tone was different—hard, flat, like a blade against stone. “You’ve done enough breathing for today, brat. Just crawl out of here. This isn’t your fight.” His eyes, cold and unblinking, never left Xiao Lei.

  Su Yuerong stayed silent, her lips pressed tight, eyes glimmering with something—fear, calculation, or both.

  Xiao Lei’s gaze shifted to Zi Yunshen, who stood planted like an old pine in the wind, his expression unreadable but his posture taut with intent. Lian slept beside him, unaware, her breathing steady, the faint rise and fall of her chest the only soft thing in that cruel night.

  Xiao Lei’s fingers flexed, a slight twitch in the dim light. He turned, slow and measured, as if conceding. Each step away felt heavier, dragging through the cold air. Zi Yunshen’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding, but he said nothing. Instead, the muscles in his arm were tightening as if preparing for the storm he knew was coming.

  “Hold it,” Shen Haoran’s voice cut through like a whip. “Leave the pouch.”

  Xiao Lei paused mid-step. His head tilted slightly, just enough for the wind to catch the sharp glint in his eye. Without a word, he tossed the pouch to the ground. It landed with a dull thud, spilling a faint shimmer of powder from its seams.

  Su Yuerong stepped forward cautiously, her movements stiff, every sense alert. She knelt, fingers trembling as she reached for it. Her gaze flicked up to Xiao Lei, the tiniest crease forming on her brow. He stood there, retreating with the poise of someone beaten, steps dragging, shoulders hunched. She relaxed, just a fraction, and scooped the pouch into her hands.

  The night seemed to still. Even the frost-laced air hung motionless, as if holding its breath.

  The next breath never finished.

  The air twisted.

  Xiao Lei blurred. One instant he was stepping back, the next he was in front of her, shadows snapping in his wake. Void Step—silent, merciless. His fist shot forward, crude leather glove lined with fangs and claws gleaming slightly. The strike cut the air with a feral hiss, aimed straight for her throat.

  Su Yuerong’s eyes widened, panic surging too late. She staggered back, hastily trying to summon her Echo. A hazy silhouette began to rise—then the punch landed. The claws tore through flesh. Her breath caught in a wet gasp as the forming Echo shivered and unravelled into mist.

  Xiao Lei ripped the pouch from her lifeless hand as her body collapsed to the frost with a dull thud.

  His focus had already shifted to the sleeping Lian, swaddled in innocence and herb-laced dreams.

  The two men reacted at last, rage boiling their faces as they lunged, blades flashing and killing intent thick enough to choke on.

  Zi Yunshen moved. His foot struck the ground with a sound that split the night. Energy flared around him, old but unyielding, a barrier of willpower and killing intent. The two men snarled, summoning their Echoes, spectral beasts roaring into existence as they collided with the old man.

  The clash tore the ground between them, forcing a wall of raging qi and spectral beasts to rise like a barrier—cutting Xiao Lei off from the fight as he slipped deeper into the shadows.

  He didn’t spare them a look. The clash of power, the shockwaves that rattled branches overhead—all of it became background noise. He scooped Lian into his arms, her small body limp against his chest. Muscles screaming, breath sharp, he ran.

  He didn’t turn back. Not when the air shook with violent bursts of qi. Not when he felt the heat of their fight licking at his back. Only the pounding of his heart and the girl’s faint warmth guided him deeper into the forest, away from the storm that raged behind.

  The Duskroot Wilds seemed to stretch endlessly, shadows twisting into strange shapes beneath the moon’s thin light. Branches clawed at his clothes, slicing shallow lines across his already scarred arms. Each step carried them further from the fight, yet closer to a domain where even seasoned cultivators tread carefully.

  Xiao Lei didn’t slow. His body screamed, every muscle straining, but he forced himself forward.

  The memory of Zi Yunshen’s gaze surfaced—steady, unyielding, the kind of look that pierced through lies. It had lingered on the girl with something Xiao Lei couldn’t quite name, a mix of resignation and fierce protectiveness.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  He gritted his teeth. It would have been fine if he had gotten the Moonveil Orchid through other means—stealing it in the night, tricking them, even spilling blood without witnesses. That would have been clean. Simple.

  But this… this was different.

  The exchange had been sealed not with words, but with that stare, that silent understanding. A transaction he had never agreed to, yet one he now carried in his arm.

  He would see it through—not out of mercy, but because a favour was a shackle, and he would wear no chains, and he would rather bleed in the dirt than feel a chain on his neck.

  He stopped briefly under the cover of a massive, hollow tree, setting Lian down against the rough bark. Her breathing was slow, steady, but unnaturally deep. Xiao Lei wiped the sweat and mud from his face, his hand trembling for a moment before he clenched it into a fist.

  The night smelled of damp earth and blood, faint traces carried from the fight behind him. He knew the trio would probably not follow—not into the deeper wilds where predators ruled and that too in night. Yet safety was an illusion here; a single misstep could bring something far worse than men.

  He crouched, scanning the ground. The old man had mentioned others in ambush. Xiao Lei scanned the ground—tracks scattered like whispers of pursuit. Even if they hesitated to follow, he erased every trace: smearing beast scent on his feet, looping his path until the forest itself lost his trail.

  When he was sure no one was close, he lifted Lian again, moving with more caution than before. The forest thickened, branches weaving a ceiling that blocked the moonlight. The cold was sharper here, biting through the thin layer of mud and sweat on his skin. His breath misted in the air, hanging like fleeting ghosts. Somewhere in the distance, a low growl rose and faded, replaced by the eerie silence that followed.

  Xiao Lei’s mind sharpened. Fear flickered at the edges of his thoughts, but it didn’t control him. Every sense extended outward, reading the subtle tremors of the earth, the rustle of unseen wings, the faintest hint of disturbances in the air. He adjusted his pace, sometimes moving slow enough to be part of the forest itself, other times darting forward when the shadows seemed to close in too tightly.

  At last, he found a small depression between two moss-covered boulders, half-hidden by hanging vines. It wasn’t much, but it would shield them for a few hours. He slipped inside, laying Lian down gently.

  Her small hand twitched in her sleep, clutching at his chest. She smelled faintly of crushed herbs and smoke, a fragile warmth against the cold stench of blood on his glove. For a moment, Xiao Lei just watched her—this delicate thing pressed against him, a reminder of ties he had no intention of keeping.

  He sat with his back against the cold stone. His chest rose and fell in measured breaths, his mind running through every possible scenario. The fight behind him, Zi Yunshen’s eyes, the girl’s innocence—they swirled together into a storm he couldn’t name.

  The forest outside shifted with the wind, leaves whispering like faint voices. Xiao Lei closed his eyes briefly, not to rest, but to listen. To wait.

  The night wasn’t merciful, but neither would he.

  When he opened his eyes again, they were calm—cold and clear. The girl slept. The forest watched. And Xiao Lei prepared to move, deeper still, where only those willing to bleed would survive.

  ?? — ? — ??

  Hours crawled by as Xiao Lei moved through the tightening maze of trees. The canopy above was so thick it swallowed the sun, leaving the forest trapped in an endless twilight. Time blurred—each step the same as the last, each shadow stretching longer than it should. Only when the air grew colder and the dim light shifted to a murky orange did he realize the day was dying again.

  Far off, a roar broke the silence, sharp and sudden, before the night swallowed it whole.

  Only when his legs trembled from relentless strain did he stop. Hours of running had wrung every ounce of strength from his body. Under a jagged overhang barely wide enough to hide them, he lowered Lian gently against the cold stone. She didn’t stir. Her small face stayed serene, as if the horrors outside had no claim over her dreams.

  Xiao Lei crouched, gathering brittle twigs and forming a ring of stones. His movements were soundless, precise. A spark caught, and a weak flame rose, its glow trembling against the dark. He laid a strip of meat across a sharpened branch, the smell of char mingling with the metallic tang of the air. Every step—every breath—was measured. In this place, carelessness was death.

  Fat hissed on the fire. His face remained carved from stone, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed exhaustion. When the edges blackened, he pulled the meat free and smothered the fire, leaving only a faint thread of smoke that vanished into the mist.

  A soft stir broke the stillness. Lian’s lashes fluttered open—eyes wide, hazy with sleep. She stared at the shadows above, then at Xiao Lei, who sat cross-legged, scraping an arrowhead against stone.

  “Where’s Grandpa?” Her voice was small, fragile, yet it cut through the night.

  Xiao Lei’s hand stilled. Only his breath rasped against the quiet. When he finally looked at her, his eyes held no warmth, only a calm as cold as the stones around them.

  “He’s not here,” he said flatly.

  Her lips trembled, but she didn’t press further. Somewhere in the haze of sleep, she remembered the old man’s last words—soft and strange, like a goodbye she hadn’t wanted to hear.

  Lian drew her knees close, hugging them tight. The silence pressed around them like a second skin, broken only by the faint hiss of unseen creatures in the undergrowth.

  After a long pause, she asked, “Where… are we going?”

  The rasp of metal on stone answered first. Then his voice followed, calm and detached:

  “I don’t know. Stop talking.”

  She hesitated, then reached for the meat he had set aside without looking at her. She nibbled in silence, glancing at him between bites. He offered nothing back—only the cold focus of someone who would rather die than be chained by anything, even obligation.

  Her next question was barely a breath. “Will it… be safe?”

  “No.” The answer came sharp, without cruelty—only truth.

  Her fingers tightened around the meat. She asked nothing more.

  When she finished eating, she curled against the stone until sleep reclaimed her. She smelled faintly of crushed herbs and smoke, a fragile warmth brushing against the dried blood on his glove. For a moment, he watched her, expression unreadable. A burden, yes—but one he would not leave behind.

  Outside, the forest whispered. A distant branch cracked, and something massive shifted in the dark, its presence felt more than seen. Xiao Lei’s grip tightened on his bow. He didn’t blink.

  The night stretched long. Xiao Lei remained, a blade drawn in the dark, waiting for whatever dared step too close.

  Favourite button, drop a rating, write a review, and leave a comment—I read them all (even the unhinged ones). Your support fuels my writing, and hey… maybe the protagonist will suffer slightly less if you do. No guarantees though! ??

  [Click here to head to the main page!]

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