Wu Qing’s voice shattered the chill of the night, his words slicing through the darkness like blades. “Kid… very good,” Wu Qing spat through gritted teeth, eyes burning with unrestrained fury. “From here on, you and I are mortal enemies.”

  Xiao Lei did not respond. The threat meant nothing, words could never touch him in this moment of raw calculation. Wu Qing’s gaze swept to Lei Morin. “Morin,” he growled, “this is all because of you. Let’s capture this brat together, or my clan will never let this matter rest.”

  Fear coiled tightly in Lei Morin’s chest. He did not need the reminder—the weight of situation pressed down like iron. He gritted his teeth, nodding once, sealing their unspoken agreement. Together, they advanced, but Xiao Lei dashed first, moving with the relentless precision of a predator.

  Mid-stride, Wu Qing veered suddenly, hurtling toward the dense trees that lined the clearing. Shadows swallowed him as he plunged deeper into the undergrowth. “Wu Qing!” Lei Morin bellowed, but his shout carried no weight. It was too late.

  With options dwindling, Lei Morin acted. He bit down on the tip of his tongue, drawing blood, and spat forth his essence. The crimson droplets hung suspended in the frigid night, swirling and coalescing around him into a glowing, sanguine aura. His cultivation flared violently, surging to the 8th stage of Qi Awakening. This self-harming technique burned with intense power, a temporary boost that came at the cost of lasting torment—but Morin had no choice.

  Lightning crackled across his fist as he summoned Thunder Fist once more, the electric streaks denser, hotter than ever. Xiao Lei raised his bow in defence, but the weapon shattered with a sharp kacha, splitting in two under the sheer force.

  Morin’s punch did not stop. It slammed into Xiao Lei’s chest with bone-crushing impact. Ribs fractured, and crimson spattered as Xiao Lei coughed and spat blood, his face pale beneath the shadow of exertion.

  “Veylan…” Morin hissed through gritted teeth, the third eye on his forehead a deep, bleeding red, veins dark with strain. “…I don’t know how you survive, but this time… only death awaits.” He pivoted again, the aura around him suffocating, pressing down like a physical weight. Xiao Lei felt every ounce of it, his Primordial Echo shimmering behind him, ready.

  He drew a deep breath and summoned Shatter Howl. The sound tore through the night, gnawing at Morin’s very soul. Pain lanced through Xiao Lei’s body. His face paled, blood seeping freely—but he ignored it. The effect was immediate—Morin staggered, dazed, unsteady, his defences fraying under the psychic assault.

  In the blink of an eye, Xiao Lei closed the distance. His right hand, wounded and streaked with blood, gripped the larger half of his broken bow. With a swift, practiced motion, he thrust it forward. The broken bow drove through Morin’s face and into the base of his skull.

  The scream that escaped was choked, muffled by blood and terror. Morin collapsed, eyes wide with horror and disbelief, his body crumpling to the ground.

  Xiao Lei paused for a heartbeat, chest heaving, dark rivulets marring his skin, yet his gaze already shifted. Wu Qing’s path through the trees was clear in his mind, and the hunt was far from over.

  He chased after Wu Qing, boots silent on the cobblestones, every movement coiled and precise. The shadows of the trees twisted beneath the moonlight, trembling with each calculated step. Ahead, Wu Qing’s form had disappeared into the undergrowth, but Xiao Lei’s gaze never wavered.

  ?? — ? — ??

  Wu Qing tore through the dense underbrush, his bulk smashing branches aside with bone-jarring force. Each step was a struggle— each breath tore through him, legs trembling under the weight of exhaustion, and blood still trickling from the mangled right hand. The night air was bitter, cutting through his sweat-soaked clothes, yet he felt nothing but the heat of his panic and the ache of his depleted Qi.

  “Damn you, Morin,” he cursed under his breath, the words rough and ragged, carried away almost immediately by the wind. His limbs burned with fatigue, every muscle screamed in protest, his eyes at the edges of consciousness.

  The path ahead stretched like a black abyss. His mind flickered to the image of the boy, moving with eerie calmness and relentless speed. “Once I reach the clan… I’ll bring men. That brat… chopped into hundreds of pieces,” he muttered through clenched teeth, but his words were swallowed by the night.

  He forced himself to push forward, to rise again, when a sudden shimmer at his right snapped him upright. Time seemed to slow. There, emerging from the air itself, was Xiao Lei. An arrow gleamed in his hand, cold and precise, aimed without hesitation.

  Wu Qing’s left hand shot up instinctively, trying to shield himself, but the movement was sluggish, desperate. The arrow found its mark, piercing through his wrist with a sickening crack. Pain exploded, hot and sharp, and he screamed, stumbling backward, begging for mercy. “We… we have no feud! Please… don’t!”

  Xiao Lei’s face remained a mask of icy detachment, unreadable in the dim moonlight. Every ounce of his remaining Qi, every fragment of control, concentrated into the final act.

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

  With a brutal, unflinching motion, he drove the arrow through Wu Qing’s wrist and into his eyes, a cruel arc that pinned the man against the tree where he had sought refuge. A gurgled, stunned cry echoed briefly before cutting off entirely. Silence reclaimed the forest.

  Finally, it was over. Every adversary, every threat, lay motionless. The atmosphere was filled with the scent of crimson and the cold, still air of victory hard-won. Xiao Lei staggered, his body screaming in protest from the accumulated pain, dimmed aura, and wounds. Vision blurred, legs trembling beneath him, yet he forced each step toward Lian.

  Breath shuddered from his chest. He forced a step. Another. Every motion demanded willpower. His body screamed—almost to the breaking point—but he pushed on. With a final, defeated groan, he collapsed, face first onto the cold, uneven ground.

  Dust and blood mingled on his cheek, yet he refused to close his eyes. They remained open, sharp and unyielding, burning with the quiet insistence of survival. Even in collapse, even in weakness, he refused to surrender.

  The night was silent once more, broken only by his ragged breathing. Around him, the forest smelled of sweat and blood, but Xiao Lei remained a figure of grim determination, poised between collapse and the next desperate step toward safety.

  ?? — ? — ??

  Lian watched from the shadows, her body pressed against the gnarled roots of a nearby tree, the night pressing in around her like a suffocating shroud. She had obeyed Xiao Lei’s instructions and stayed hidden, yet every movement, every clash of weapons, carved ice through her chest.

  Her heart thudded violently each time she saw him strike, each time he staggered under a blow. The boy who moved with such terrifying precision and resolve was still flesh and blood—still vulnerable. And yet, even as a pang of fear squeezed her chest, a strange thrill coursed through her at every enemy he felled.

  Her hands clenched the edges of her dress, knuckles whitening, as she pressed herself lower into the shadows when the four primordial echoes appeared. Her breath caught, and for a moment, the world spun with fear and awe.

  She nearly fainted, heart hammering against her ribs, eyes wide as the night seemed to erupt with unnatural power. But as quickly as the terror had surged, the scene ended. Silence returned, save for the ragged breathing of the boy and the faint rustle of leaves. He had killed them all. Well, except for the fatty.

  Lian didn’t pause to exhale. Clutching her bundle of clothes under one arm, she ran, desperation driving her forward. The trail was unmistakable—branches broken, bushes trampled, and a streak of blood marking every step. The fat man’s hasty flight had left a chaotic path, but it made her pursuit easier, though no less exhausting.

  Her legs burned, every step a battle. Sweat mingled with tears, and moonlight half-blinded her as she pushed through the undergrowth.

  After what felt like an eternity, she spotted him. Xiao Lei lay face down on the ground, still and broken. Her chest heaved, tears spilling freely, and she cried out, “Big brother!” before sprinting the last few steps, stumbling over roots and stones, until she reached him.

  Beside him lay a fallen spirit beast, similar to a cat. One of his hands bore a grievous wound, flesh missing in jagged strips, and her stomach lurched at the sight. Yet his eyes were open, flickering with a faint, exhausted light. She dropped to her knees beside him, clutching his hand, and pressed her ear to his trembling lips.

  “Don’t say anything,” he murmured, voice hoarse, carrying a quiet authority that left no room for argument. Then, his eyes closed, drained of all energy. Lian’s brows furrowed as she glanced around, her eyes seeking his pouch. It wasn’t there—lost, perhaps fallen during the fight.

  Her fingers clutched the bundle she carried, the second pouch Xiao Lei had hidden inside. This one she could use if he faltered.

  A crack of branches and the scrape of heavy boots reached her ears. She froze, heart hammering. Shapes moved through the moonlit underbrush—two bulky figures and a hunched old man, closing in.

  Lian’s hands trembled as she stepped in front of Xiao Lei, body pressed protectively against him. Tears streaked her cheeks, her voice cracking as she pleaded, “Please… help us. Save my big brother.” Her small frame seemed fragile beneath the weight of her desperation, yet she stood unwavering, unwilling to leave him vulnerable.

  The two bulky men exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces, while the old man remained still, his eyes like dark, polished stone, unreadable yet piercing. He tilted his head slightly and caught sight of Xiao Lei. For a heartbeat, a faint ripple passed through the depths of his ancient eyes, as though he had glimpsed something beyond the visible.

  A soft voice called from behind the group, carrying both urgency and curiosity. “Uncle, are there more bodies?” A girl stepped forward, her presence graceful yet deliberate, and two more men in the same uniform as the bulky pair flanked her. Lian’s heart leapt at the sight, hope mingling with fear.

  The girl’s gaze swept over Lian and Xiao Lei, assessing them with calm precision. Instinctively, Lian knelt, clutching her bundle, and cried out, “Please, sister… save my big brother!”

  Her words quivered in the cold night air. One of the men opened his mouth to rebuke her, but the girl waved him off with a gentle, authoritative gesture, her voice calm but firm. “Uncle, please… see what you can do.”

  The old man inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her, and stepped past Lian without a word. Lian’s pulse quickened as she hurried to Xiao Lei’s side, brushing his damp hair from his face. The old man bent over him, eyes scanning the boy’s battered form, every gesture precise and measured. His lips moved softly, yet deliberate. “Although he has severe injuries… he should be saved.”

  Lian let out a quiet sigh of relief, unaware of the subtle weight behind the old man’s words. “Should be saved,” not “can be saved.” Even the girl’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across her features as if she recognized the potential the old man intended to preserve.

  Without further pause, she turned to her men and issued a quiet command. They moved with swift efficiency, lifting Xiao Lei gently yet firmly. Lian followed closely, her hands brushed his shoulders, anchoring him to the present as she murmured frantic thanks. The night’s chill brushed against her skin, but the heat of relief and hope burned brighter, chasing away some of the lingering terror.

  As they carried Xiao Lei through the shadows, the girl cast a glance back at Lian, eyes soft but resolute, silently promising protection. In that instant, Lian felt a fragile thread of reassurance weave through her fear—a lifeline tethering her to the boy she refused to leave behind.

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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.