Elsewhere, a large, hooded man was studying a vast map covered with dotted lines and glowing marks. Some of the glowing marks had multiplied, indicating activity in those areas.
"The request was sent?" he asked without turning.
"Yes, Elder. A member from the Midnight Clan should arrive by tomorrow."
"Good. Everything is proceeding as planned. You may go."
When the messenger departed, a faint smile crept across the Elder's thin, withered lips.
"The right pawns, the right moves, the right killing moves."
The Elder's thin fingers traced the map with purpose, eventually landing on a greyed-out area where the Old Capital of the Liger Empire once stood.
A treasure trove of danger.
A place where the water ran deep.
For the Elder, his plan was delicate: crack both the Midnight and Night Clans from inside and out.
"Unit Four."
Three figures entered the Elder's presence from the shadows.
They immediately knelt.
"Yes, Elder."
"You will gain a new member tomorrow. Preparation for the mission starts now. Everything must proceed flawlessly. As you know, I don't accept failure."
All three members replied in unison.
"Yes, Elder."
As they left, the one wearing the red cloak turned away, his eyes lingering on the Elder before disappearing into the shadows.
His inner thoughts churned.
*What are you planning this time, Elder? I will never die by your hands or by your machinations.*
The Elder slowly turned his eyes toward the presence that had just lingered.
*It doesn't matter what you are thinking. Anything that is mine will never leave my hands.*
The Elder called out again, his voice cold as steel.
"Unit Five."
A squad crept from the shadows. When the unit appeared, they bowed.
"Unit Five Leader."
"Yes, Lord."
"Follow Unit Four. Track all their movements and whereabouts. Report to me every four hours. I will allow a one-hour grace period. If I don't hear anything from your squad, I will deploy another Ghost unit."
Everyone in Unit Five was terrified upon hearing the Elder's words.
The Unit Five leader felt as though someone were pulling a rope around his neck while mocking him for failing to report on time. The feeling was one of helplessness and unwillingness.
Yet this was the life of being an underling to someone who held both life and death in their hands.
The Elder continued to speak.
"If you need any other units from the Ghost Legions, you may have up to five units. Any questions, Unit Five Leader?"
"Are there any special instructions?" the Unit Five leader asked, a hitch catching in his throat as he spoke.
"Yes. When the member of the Midnight Clan arrives and finishes this mission with Unit Four, either kill or capture him alive."
"As you command, Lord."
Unit Five slowly returned to the shadows from which they had come.
However, the Elder called for the leader to stay.
"Stay, Unit Five Leader."
"Yes, Lord."
"Failure to capture the Midnight Clan member alive is acceptable. Not killing him or not cutting off his path is unacceptable. Whatever happens on this mission, you have one objective: kill or capture him alive."
The Elder's eyes glowed cold as frost.
"Yes, Lord."
"You have been trained rather well, and this will be your chance to climb in my ranks. Don't disappoint me."
"Yes, my Lord. I will carry out your instructions to the letter. Are all means acceptable?"
"You have my blessing to use whatever means necessary."
"My Lord, may I take my leave?"
"You may go."
The Unit Five leader slowly dissolved into the shadows without leaving a trace of his presence.
Silence reclaimed the chamber, with the Elder staring more closely at the map.
A faint golden glow enveloped the Elder as he sat cross-legged, feigning meditation. Those who knew him well understood that this was no act of enlightenment, but one of calculation.
His cultivation was in scheming in the dark, feigning innocence in the day, and keeping his hands clean—not through battle, but through manipulation.
---
Far away, in the bustling city of Sunchaser, a festival atmosphere cloaked the streets. Crowds of ligers gathered to greet their new Matriarch. Whispers rippled through the air—admiration, surprise, curiosity. The sudden change in leadership had come without fanfare, but none were foolish enough to underestimate its significance.
In a mansion that would have been considered grand in any human city, the elites of numerous clans mingled, trading pleasantries and subtle threats masked as compliments.
Politics, after all, was another form of war.
At the center of it all stood a young woman with long silver-and-white braids and calm poise. Though her attire was simple, her presence drew every gaze. Her eyes burned—serene on the surface, but alight with barely contained ferocity.
This was Judah Sunchaser, the new Matriarch of the House of Sunchaser.
"Matriarch Judah, congratulations on your ascension," said Gentle Winter with a polite bow.
"Thank you, Gentle Winter. Do inform your Grandmaster that the Sunchaser Clan values cooperation with the Winter Bliss Sect. We'll need your support in the coming months."
"Of course, Matriarch Judah."
Light laughter escaped Judah.
"Judah is fine. We have been close friends for a while now, Gentle."
"I would, but my Grandmaster told me not to be so casual with you in public," Gentle Winter said with a depressed expression.
With a light pat on her shoulder, Judah smiled.
"It is fine."
Footsteps thundered through the hall as two ligers approached, their faces pale with urgency.
"Matriarch! The Elder has sent a request to the Midnight Clan!"
Judah's lips curved into a knowing smile.
"Naturally. That old serpent moves exactly as expected."
Gentle Winter's expression changed when she heard what the attendant said.
"What are your orders?"
"We do nothing—yet. Prepare everything according to the Grand Elder's instructions. When the member returns… if he returns… our plan will advance. The Elder and his shadows won't stop it."
"Yes, Matriarch!"
Gentle Winter's expression became hard.
She knew a storm would be coming soon.
As they departed, Judah's gaze turned distant, her tone almost amused.
"Oh, Elder… you think yourself a player on the board. But a pawn that believes itself a master remains a pawn. The board is vast, and I've already begun my move. I trust in Sol's decision. And this member of the Midnight Clan will survive—he must."
Her reflection in the polished floor stared back, her eyes gleaming like twin suns waiting to rise.
"Let's go and enjoy ourselves, Gentle Winter."
"Yes, Matriarch Judah."
As they moved through the party, mingling with the guests, Gentle Winter pulled Judah to the side.
"What did you mean by, 'I trust in Sol's decision'?"
Judah laughed. There was amusement in her voice, but also a hint of don't ask questions you aren't willing to die for.
"An advisor of sorts. That's all I can tell you for now, Gentle."
Judah spread her arm out with mocking grace.
"When did you get so good at keeping secrets?"
"Who said I wasn't being honest or that I was keeping something from my close friend? Besides, are you going to tell me who has been getting close to my cute little Winter?"
Gentle Winter blushed and turned away.
"That is none of your business."
"Now, look who's holding onto secrets, Gentle. But it's fine. We can call it a night."
Judah laughed, but there was nothing warm in it like there had been with her last one.
"Yes, let's call it a night, Judah."
'Life is always like this—fickle and full of ironies. Yet the path I must walk is one that only a few will know.'