"When mortals defy fate, even the heavens must hold their breath."
---
The night sky loomed vast and dark, like an endless void swallowing the last embers of daylight.
A chill wind howled through the crumbling ruins outside Thanh Van City, carrying with it the scent of rain and something heavier — blood.
Van Thien Phong stood atop a shattered tower, his black cloak fluttering behind him.
His gaze was sharp, focused, unblinking, staring into the far-off horizon where the first flickers of chaos would soon ignite.
He had been waiting for this night.
Every piece he had laid down, every seed of revenge he had planted, was about to bloom.
Tonight, the Zhao Clan would fall.
And nothing — not fate, not gods, not destiny — would save them.
---
In the heart of Thanh Van City, lights flickered in the vast estates of noble families.
The Zhao Clan, arrogant and proud, still reveled in their imagined invincibility, their grand halls echoing with laughter and clinking wine cups.
None of them sensed the invisible noose tightening around their necks.
Inside a secret chamber beneath the Zhao Mansion, a meeting was taking place.
Zhao Tian, the acting patriarch, sat at the head of a long stone table.
Around him were the clan's elders, faces grim, voices low.
"The boy must die tonight," Zhao Tian growled, slamming his fist onto the table.
"The longer he lives, the greater the threat he becomes."
"But... what of Bai Xiao Nian?" one elder ventured cautiously.
"There are whispers that she favors him."
Zhao Tian snorted. "A woman's heart is fickle. Crush the boy, and she will return to us."
The elders nodded, some more reluctantly than others.
Plans were drawn.
Assassins were summoned.
Traps were laid.
The Zhao Clan had decided: tonight, they would end Van Thien Phong once and for all.
---
Meanwhile, in a small courtyard far from the city's bustling core, Bai Xiao Nian sat beneath a flowering plum tree.
Silver moonlight bathed her in a soft glow, lending her an almost ethereal beauty.
Her sword rested across her knees, silent, waiting.
Her heart, however, was far from calm.
She could feel it — the gathering storm.
Something was coming.
Something terrible.
She rose gracefully, her white robes rippling like waves.
Her fingers brushed the sword hilt lightly, a silent promise of bloodshed to come.
"No matter what happens," she whispered to the night, "I will not let you fall."
---
Far above, hidden among the swirling clouds, an unseen figure observed the city below.
A sage of the Heavenly Court, sent to monitor the mortal realm.
He watched as threads of karma twisted and knotted around Thanh Van City, forming a web so dense it almost blinded him.
"This boy..." the sage murmured, frowning.
"Why does fate favor him so?"
He shook his head.
The heavens had decreed nothing about Van Thien Phong.
No prophecy, no divine blessing.
And yet, the mortal's every step shook the pillars of destiny itself.
Perhaps... the greatest storms were born from the most unexpected winds.
The sage vanished into mist, leaving the mortals to their bloody play.
---
Van Thien Phong moved silently through the abandoned streets, each step measured, deliberate.
The city felt different tonight — heavier, charged with invisible tension.
He knew they would come.
He wanted them to.
At the corner of a narrow alley, he paused, sensing movement.
Shadows detached themselves from the walls, forming into masked assassins clad in black.
Their blades gleamed coldly under the moonlight.
Without a word, they attacked.
Van Thien Phong smiled coldly.
Drawing a hidden dagger from his sleeve, he met the first assassin head-on.
Their blades clashed, sparks flying.
With a fluid twist, he disarmed the attacker, sending the man's sword spinning into the darkness.
A swift kick to the chest sent the assassin crashing into a wall, unconscious.
The others hesitated — just a fraction of a second.
It was enough.
Phong's movements became a blur.
Strike. Parry. Counter. Break.
Each movement precise, economical, lethal.
In less than a minute, all five assassins lay sprawled across the ground, defeated.
Phong wiped the blade clean on one attacker's cloak, his face emotionless.
"Is this the best you can do, Zhao Tian?" he murmured.
He turned and continued down the alley, disappearing into the mist.
---
At that moment, in the Zhao Mansion, Zhao Tian felt a sudden chill run down his spine.
He ignored it.
He would not believe a mere boy could threaten the Zhao Clan.
And yet... unease gnawed at the edges of his mind.
He barked orders, summoning more assassins, reinforcing every gate and hidden passage.
If Van Thien Phong dared come, he would be crushed like an insect.
---
But Zhao Tian had forgotten one simple truth:
Desperation breeds cunning.
Hatred sharpens the blade.
Van Thien Phong was not merely coming for revenge.
He was coming to destroy them, root and branch, leaving nothing behind.
And he would not be alone.
From the shadows of Thanh Van City, old enemies of the Zhao Clan stirred, drawn by the scent of blood and opportunity.
Forgotten grudges reignited.
Ancient debts demanded payment.
Tonight, Thanh Van City would witness a slaughter unlike anything it had seen in centuries.
And at the heart of it all, a young man walked alone, carrying the hopes of the fallen and the rage of the betrayed.
---
The heavens wept silently as the first drops of rain began to fall.
But it was too late.
The wheels of fate had already begun to turn.
And nothing — not gods, not kings, not heaven itself — would stop the storm that Van Thien Phong had unleashed.
---
[End of Chapter 13]