Laughter cracked through the jungle, harsh and mocking. Xian Rou stood bleeding, arm pressed to his side, yet his gaze burned with ruthless

  Laughter cracked through the jungle, harsh and mocking. Xian Rou stood bleeding, arm pressed to his side, yet his gaze burned with ruthless triumph. “Struggle is futile,” he declared, voice low and commanding. “Hand over everything, and I might let you leave with your lives.”

  Opposite him, the wounded man swayed, veins blackened from poison, but his snarl was unbroken. “Spare me your lies, Xian Rou. Surrender is nothing but slaughter at the hands of your Black Scorpion gang.”

  Xian Rou didn’t answer. His eyes slid past the man, fixing on the two youths caught between them—pale, trembling, one boy shielding his terrified companion with desperate resolve.

  “This Kao Feng doesn’t have much time left,” Xian Rou said, voice calm but carrying a quiet menace. “Poisoned by my Black Scorpion venom, he will die soon. But you—your lives stretch ahead of you. I am certain you occupy important positions in your Kao family. Why waste such potential over trivial possessions?”

  The girl hesitated, legs pressed together, her long frame trembling. Sweat streaked her face, matting the strands of hair that clung to her forehead. “Will you really let us go?” she asked, voice barely audible above the clash of steel and shouts of pain.

  The boy next to her stiffened, his jaw tight. “Senior sister,” he whispered sharply, “don’t listen to these thugs. Words like theirs hold no value.”

  Xian Rou’s laugh was soft, almost amused, a predator’s humour at the prey’s na?veté. He raised a hand, preparing to press his advantage, when a sharp whistling cut through the jungle noise, slicing the air like a blade.

  Instinctively, he twisted, a practiced motion borne of countless battles, but it was too late. The first arrow embedded itself in his left abdomen. Its feathered shaft quivered as it struck.

  Before comprehension could anchor in his mind, more arrows followed, each streaking silently but with deadly precision. They tore through the air, aimed not at him but at the bandit group still entangled in the melee with the hunting party.

  In near-perfect synchrony, four bodies fell with heavy, final thuds, each pierced through the skull by a single, lethal arrow.

  Chaos rippled instantly through the ranks. The skirmish halted abruptly as every pair of eyes flicked toward the unseen source of the attack. Silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by ragged breathing and the distant rustle of leaves disturbed by the sudden arrival of death.

  Then they saw him: a young boy, his appearance almost alien amid the grime and soil that coated him from head to toe. His face, obscured by the layers of mud and dirt, betrayed nothing of his age, his thoughts, or the ruthless intent burning in his gaze.

  He leapt from the branches above with lethal grace, landing on the forest floor. Each step was measured, deliberate. The air itself seemed to tremble under his presence.

  The bandits froze—leaders and foot soldiers alike. The hunting party staggered back, eyes wide in disbelief. Shadows deepened under the thick canopy, and the jungle itself seemed to contract. Every heartbeat, every breath, was a countdown.

  The boy advanced, silent yet commanding. Soil-encrusted, he moved like a hunter among prey.

  Xiao Lei halted at a measured distance from the battered clearing. His steps left no trace on the loam, yet the weight of his presence spread like frost. Though his arrows had flown only at the bandits, the surviving hunters found no comfort. Under his quiet stare, they felt their throats tighten, as if a starving wolf prowled just beyond the firelight—one that had chosen not to strike them yet.

  The silence broke when a bandit, face twisted with rage, spat out, “You dare raise your hand against the Black Scorpion Gang?!” He lunged forward, blade raised, his voice desperate to mask fear.

  Xian Rou, leader of the bandits, did not intervene. His narrow eyes stayed fixed on the boy. He had glimpsed the youth and a hidden girl earlier, dismissed them as harmless strays.

  But now, the memory of arrows cutting through his men returned to him with a chill. That first strike had pierced his qi barrier—an impossible feat for a mere Mortal Vein cultivator. Even those at the peak would struggle to achieve such precision, such force.

  Two children wandering the depths of the jungle? And an arrow that defied reason? The threads refused to weave into a picture he could accept. Unless… The suspicion flickered, absurd yet gnawing, before he tried to cast it aside.

  His gaze darted toward the treeline, searching for the boy’s hidden companion—only for his subordinate’s shout to snap his attention back.

  The bandit’s sword had already begun its downward arc, the air shrieking faintly around its edge. But before the blade could find flesh, Xiao Lei moved. His arm shot forward. Unhurried. Precise. The arrowhead punched through the attacker’s skull.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The scream died half-formed, the blade halting mid-swing—snuffed out in the same instant. Xiao Lei’s grip still held the shaft, crimson now running down its length, dripping onto the ground.

  Gasps rippled through hunters and bandits alike. Even Lian, concealed in the underbrush as he had ordered, flinched. She clamped her eyes shut against the sight, heart hammering at the ruthless efficiency of it.

  Xiao Lei’s expression, however, did not shift. His gaze remained level, detached, as if what he had done concerned him no more than brushing dust from his sleeve.

  With a sharp tug, he wrenched the arrow free. Blood sprayed in an arc, and the bandit collapsed, the weight of his body thudding against the earth.

  No one spoke. The jungle’s hum retreated, leaving only the harsh sound of a dying man’s breath fading into nothing.

  Xiao Lei turned without pause, his steps unhurried as he crossed the battlefield. The corpses he passed were nothing more than fallen trees in his path. His attention fixed only on the arrows still in their heads.

  He bent, plucked an arrow, wiped it clean. Another followed. By the third, the motion felt like ritual—cold, unbroken.

  Each time he neared, both bandits and hunters instinctively recoiled, their feet sliding back across the soil. It was as though the air around him pressed outward, pushing them aside without a word.

  The fourth arrow was reclaimed as well, only one remained—one buried in Xian Rou’s abdomen.

  At last, Xiao Lei lifted his gaze. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto the bandit leader.

  For a heartbeat, Xian Rou felt as though the clearing shrank around him. His breath caught, awareness sharpening, and only then did he realize that somewhere amidst the chaos, his senses had dulled, his instincts muted. Now, clarity returned like icy water poured down his spine.

  The youth was not some chance wanderer. He was a threat far beyond the poisoned Kao Feng or any other in this clearing.

  Xian Rou’s chest rose and fell, his wound burning as he steadied himself. At last, he had come back to his senses.

  Xiao Lei gave Xian Rou no glance, his eyes instead fixing on the older man who had just steadied himself after the clash.

  Kao Feng, weathered by age but not lacking in pride, cupped his hands. His movements were hurried. Almost reverent. He understood well: years and wrinkles mattered little before true strength, and the boy before him—whose face was younger even than the ones he struggled to protect—possessed a power that could not be ignored.

  With a grave tone he introduced himself. “Young friend, thank you for your aid. I am Kao Feng of the Kao family. These here are my young master and mistress, Kao Huo and Kao Fei.”

  The siblings followed at once, lowering themselves in hurried bows. Their voices caught with fear, but they pressed through formality, hoping to win even a flicker of favor. Xiao Lei’s gaze, however, did not so much as waver. He ignored them entirely, his silence cutting deeper than words.

  It was Xian Rou who finally broke it. His teeth ground together as he spat, “Lad, don’t be a busybody. Step aside now. Not only will I overlook you killing my men, I’ll even grant you a share of what we earn.”

  His voice was rough, but underneath lay a subtle urgency, a hunter concealing doubt.

  At that, Xiao Lei tilted his head slightly, as though weighing the words. The smallest pause stretched thin, and in that moment Kao Feng’s heart tightened. The boy’s silence was worse than open refusal. Even Kao Huo and Kao Fei faltered, unsure if hope had already slipped from their grasp.

  Then, with quick wit sharpened by upbringing, Kao Fei stepped forward. Her voice, soft and coaxing, brushed like silk over stone. “Young hero, please… help us. The Kao family will reward you generously after we return safely.”

  It was not just a plea—it was instinct, a reflex born of years trained as her clan’s young mistress. To her, survival was tied to grace and persuasion.

  From the shadows, Lian’s lips curled into a quiet sneer. The sweetness in Kao Fei’s tone grated against her ears, drawing out a disdain she had not meant to reveal. A moment later, the sting of awkwardness flickered across her face, as though she herself was startled by the intensity of her own reaction.

  But Xiao Lei gave no reply. Not even Kao Feng’s solemn plea slowed him. His steps carried him forward with an unhurried certainty, each one heavy enough to sink the hearts of those watching.

  Kao Feng called again, this time joined by Kao Huo’s trembling voice. Their words fell like pebbles against a stone wall—acknowledged only by silence.

  Before long he stood before Xian Rou. Xiao Lei extended a hand—open, calm, as though sealing the Kao party’s fate with nothing more than a shake.

  Xian Rou’s eyes narrowed. His instincts screamed caution. He scanned the tree line again, searching for the shadowy expert he was convinced must be aiding this boy. Yet the forest beyond remained still, its silence unbroken.

  At last, convinced—or perhaps forced by the quiet—that none lurked in hiding, he slowly lifted his own hand.

  The sight made despair coil once more around the hearts of the Kao party, cold and merciless.

  But before a blink could pass, Xiao Lei’s hand shifted like a serpent. His fingers caught the shaft jutting from Xian Rou’s abdomen. With a savage pull, the arrow tore free. The sudden force dragged him half a step forward, his body jerking toward the youth.

  A guttural snarl left him as qi flared in desperation, a shuddering veil of qi erupted across his skin, thin and brittle as cracking glass. For all his reputation as a predator, the veil clinging to him now was pitiful—more like the fragile wings of a moth than the armour of a hunter.

  But the defence came too late. Pain lanced through him—sharp, merciless points piercing flesh and heart. His breath hitched, eyes wide, the world narrowing into a haze of crimson.

  To the others, the moment blurred. From a distance it looked almost like an embrace—two figures locked together in eerie stillness. Murmurs rippled. Why would the ruthless Xian Rou clasp this boy so intimately? Was it surrender? Betrayal?

  No one dared step closer. The scene felt wrong—like a painting where the brush had stopped too soon, leaving the outcome unfinished.

  But Kao Feng saw it clearly. He caught the flicker of qi bursting at impact—dense, cold, unmistakable. ‘Fifth stage… at his age?’ Kao Feng’s pupils shrank, the thought striking harder than any blade.

  The illusion broke in the next heartbeat. Xiao Lei shifted his weight, stepping aside with quiet precision. Xian Rou collapsed, his body thudding against the dirt, blood soaking into the ground.

  In Xiao Lei’s grasp remained the bloodied arrow, its bent head glistening. Upon his other hand, unnoticed until now, was a crude glove bristling with four talons—two sharpened metal prongs and two real beast claws. The mix of steel and bone dripped dark red, each drop falling like the steady drumbeat of finality.

  Kao Feng drew in a sharp breath, ready to offer gratitude, but the boy’s gaze cut him down before a word could form.

  The arrow dripped. The talons glistened. Only then did the boy speak—

  “Everything. Now.”

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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.