A man watched Fang Tian from the shadows, concealed beneath the cover of blackened leaves and wind-kissed silence. His breath shallow and restrained—yet to Fang Tian, such concealment was as loud as a war drum. He raised his head, his black eyes gleaming like twin rubies under moonlight. A flicker. A shift in the wind. That was all he needed.
He moved like a phantom, cutting through the darkness. Before the watcher could flee, a hand gripped his throat with iron precision.
"Who sent you to watch me?" Fang Tian's voice was calm, but in its chill was the promise of torment.
The man, cloaked in black, clenched his teeth. He did not speak.
Silence. Fang Tian's eyes narrowed. Then came the storm.
The night air filled with muffled cries as Fang Tian worked—not out of rage, but out of necessity and precision. Pain was a language, and Fang Tian was fluent. Bones cracked. Skin tore. Screams rose into the sky like incense to a wrathful Yaksha.
The moon bore witness, a pale judge to the execution of will.
Hours passed. Blood slicked the grass. The man, once stoic and resolute, now trembled like a leaf caught in a tempest.
"Speak," Fang Tian whispered, crouching beside him, his voice like silk dragged across broken glass.
The man sobbed, his resolve shattered. "The City Lord... it was him. He doesn't want Ye Lian dead—no, not yet. He wants her land... her property. The deeds. The vault beneath her estate."
Fang Tian's lips curled—not in joy, but in recognition of a game unfolding.
"Interesting," he murmured, almost to himself. "So the viper waits to bite when it profits most."
Then, placing his palm upon the man's chest, Fang Tian released a wave of spiritual energy—raw, unfiltered, ancient—like the first fire stolen from the heavens. It snaked through the man's veins, setting every nerve ablaze.
The man screamed again, convulsing violently.
"If a single word of this leaks from your mouth," Fang Tian said softly, his tone devoid of emotion, "your heart will rupture in one second. And your soul will never find peace."
He stood, leaving the man trembling in blood and silence. The night swallowed him as he returned to camp, his steps light, measured—like he'd merely gone for a stroll beneath the stars.
Morning
The city stirred beneath golden dawn. The walls shimmered with the warmth of light, but darkness still lurked in its alleys and hearts.
Fang Tian stood at the gates, calm and composed, as if nothing had happened. Not a strand of hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his robes.
The City Lord approached, his face painted with a smile that reeked of feigned warmth.
"Where were you last night?" he asked casually, his eyes thin slits of scrutiny.
Fang Tian returned the smile with one of his own—polite, unreadable.
"On the mountain peak," he replied, voice smooth. "Admiring the stars."
The City Lord's gaze sharpened like a dagger hidden in silk. "And the man I sent? Did he find the fruit?"
Behind him, the battered spy stood, trembling. His lips were pale. His eyes darted between Fang Tian and the City Lord. Inside, the memory of pain still echoed. And worse—the promise of instant death.
Fang Tian met his gaze, just for a moment, with a slight tilt of his head. Not a word was spoken. But the message was heard.
The man nodded quickly. "Yes… He was there. He didn't find the fruit."
The City Lord laughed, barking like a mutt drunk on borrowed power.
"Ha! I knew it! That whelp couldn't even sniff it out, let alone defeat the guardian! A waste of a spy, but amusing nonetheless."
The man remained still, his hands trembling at his sides. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
Fang Tian offered no reaction. He simply stood, hands behind his back, eyes on the sky—as if pondering more important matters than mortal games.
Two Hours Later
They returned to the city amidst the bustle of commoners and soldiers, banners fluttering in the breeze. Merchants called out their wares. Children played in alleyways, unaware of the conspiracies swirling like smoke overhead.
The City Lord slapped Fang Tian's shoulder with a familiarity that wasn't earned.
"You were awesome out there, kid," he said with a grin, his teeth glinting like a predator's.
Fang Tian inclined his head. "Thank you, City Lord," he replied with perfect grace.
He turned and left without another word, his figure dissolving into the crowd, footsteps soundless.
But high above, from the terrace of the inner palace, a shadow stirred—a slender figure draped in white, her eyes watching. Ye Lian. She had seen Fang Tian walk away. And though she could not hear the words spoken, something in her soul whispered: the world around her was beginning to shift.
Nightfall Again
In his chamber, Fang Tian sat cross-legged upon the floor, a candle flickering before him. His fingers were stained with dry blood. His robes bore traces of crimson, faint, almost invisible.
He breathed slowly. The spiritual energy within him surged—restless, eager.
The City Lord wants her land... he thought. That means he'll delay. He wants Ye Lian alive—but powerless.
He smiled to himself.
Then I shall give him both—life and power, bound in fear.
He closed his eyes, but sleep did not come. Only planning. Only purpose.
Far away, in a secret chamber, the spy lay curled in the fetal position. He had spoken no further words. But deep in his chest, something ticked—a sliver of energy, dormant but waiting. A death sentence encoded in his body.
The City Lord knew nothing. Yet.
But soon, the game would begin in earnest.
And Fang Tian would make sure that everyone—Ye Lian, the City Lord, even the heavens themselves—would not only learn what it meant to watch him from the shadows…
They would learn to fear him in the light.