Six Hours Later
Lin Mo was barely conscious.
Six hours had passed since the massacre, and every moment had been a slow descent into darkness. His tiny body, still nestled in the arms of his dead mother, was numb—his skin soaked in blood, his senses dulled by smoke and silence. He was cold. Hungry. His vision blurred and dimmed.
Then he heard footsteps.
A shadow appeared at the edge of the pit. A figure. A boy, maybe fifteen, stood looking down with sharp eyes and a strange calm. He wore black robes, neat and unstained. His silver hair gleamed even in the ash-covered air.
Lin Mo was saved that day, though he wouldn't understand the cost until many years later.
Present Day – Unknown Location
Lin Mo awoke with a start, breath sharp, heart pounding.
It was that nightmare again. The one that returned like clockwork—screams, blood, the dead stares of his mother and father. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The bed was stiff, the room cold and dimly lit by the lantern's glow.
Outside, the morning drills had begun. He stepped onto the balcony of the fortress-like structure. Below, disciples meditated in rows, their breaths synchronized like a tide.
Fifteen years had passed since that day.
Lin Mo was now nearly eighteen—no longer the boy who cried in a grave of corpses. He had been forged in shadow and trained in silence. His body bore scars that no healer could erase, and his mind was sharp, hardened like tempered steel.
The man who saved him all those years ago was no ordinary rescuer. He was LongChen—the Left Protector of the Gu Empire, one of the three most powerful cultivators in the empire.
He is the unseen shield of the empire—the one who guards from the shadows.
Every covert operation, every silent mission, every whisper in the dark answers to him.
Be it the Dark Guards, the Hunters, or the spies and assassins—he commands every force that moves unseen, safeguarding the empire from within and without.
LongChen was also Lin Mo's master.
A soft, near-silent sound of footsteps approached. Lin Mo turned. He recognized the pattern immediately—it was like the footfall of a hunter stalking prey.
LongChen entered, dressed as always in black. His features were perfect, symmetrical, unnervingly handsome—yet somehow false, as though sculpted rather than born. His silver hair shimmered with unnatural sheen.
No matter how long Lin Mo had known him, he had never been able to read the man. There was always a layer he couldn't reach, a depth he couldn't fathom.
"You're awake," LongChen said, voice low and calm.
"Yes."
"How is your realm consolidation?"
"Complete," Lin Mo replied. "Stable and solid."
He had broken through to the Innate Realm days ago. Since then, he had spent every hour stabilizing his new power. The process had been agonizing, but necessary. Now, he was ready.
LongChen nodded. "Good. That means you're ready. No mistakes. No shame to my name."
There was an unusual gravity in his tone. LongChen was always serious—but today, something else lingered behind his words. A weight.
Lin Mo noticed. "Is something wrong?"
"No," LongChen said. "But you're about to receive your most important mission to date."
He paused.
"His Highness is coming to Tianhai. You will be one of his three personal guards."
Lin Mo froze. The moment had come.
He had trained for this day—endured brutal drills, impossible trials, and years of shadow warfare. Now, he would finally serve beside the Emperor's chosen, not as a servant, but as one of his silent blades.
He understood the structure. There would be three guards:
The leader of the Light Guards, a peer around his age, was known for his bright demeanor and transparent tactics. He served openly and was the face of protection, always visible, always smiling. His master is the Right Protector of the Empire, another titan in cultivation and authority.
The Dark Guard, shadow-bound and ever-present, would never leave the Emperor's side. No matter what happened—even under direct attack, they were never to retreat and never pursue the fleeing enemy. To do so would mean exposing the Emperor to danger.
Then there was the Hunter—Lin Mo's role.
He would be the main strike force. He would pursue fleeing enemies, execute the Emperor's will, and serve as the executioner in darkness. If a threat appeared, Lin Mo would be the blade that silenced it. Swift. Silent. Deadly.
A role for which he had been sculpted since childhood.
"Your cultivation is still low compared to the others," LongChen said bluntly, "but it will suffice for now."
Lin Mo exhaled. He knew that. The head of the Light Guard was nearing mid-Innate. The head of the Dark Guard—An Jing—was already a mid-innate. Lin Mo was only at the initial stage of Innate. He was the weakest among them.
"Be ready. Your mission begins tomorrow."
"Yes, Master." Lin Mo hesitated, then asked, "What about An Jing?"
"He's already in Tianhai," LongChen replied.
"...I see."
Just the name sent a chill down Lin Mo's spine.
He had seen LongChen fight only once—during the destruction of his village. It was a long time ago.
But he had seen An Jing in action more than once in recent times.
And each time, it was terrifying.
Both Dark Guards and Hunters trained similarly, but An Jing's strikes had a ruthless precision Lin Mo feared he might never match.
"Resolve any personal matters tonight," LongChen said, turning to leave.
"I will."
Lin Mo watched his mentor vanish into the corridor.
He did have one personal matter to handle.
And it couldn't wait.