The Whispering Hollow devoured sound.
Even breathing felt too loud.
The farther Wei Lian moved into its twisted corridors, the more he sensed the Hollow reshaping itself—walls shifting, tunnels elongating, rooms vanishing behind him like dying memories.
But his attention was locked on one thing only.
Group Five.
Six disciples moved as a fragile unit: two from Jade Flare, one from Tiger Fang, one unaffiliated boy who kept checking over his shoulder… and Lin Yu.
The traitor.
Wei Lian stalked them from the shadows, five paces behind, just outside their vision.
The Hollow helped him.
Its mists blurred his presence.
Its illusions masked his steps.
Its whispers disguised his silence.
He became a rumor within a rumor.
And slowly, he began to kill.
The first was the easiest.
They entered a crumbling chamber shaped like a shattered bell. A corpse lay crumpled at the far wall, dressed in faded sect robes. The group approached cautiously, blades raised.
The Jade Flare girl moved too fast.
Wei Lian struck without hesitation.
One hand over her mouth.
Dagger into her spine.
She twitched once.
Then sagged.
He let her body fall silently into the mist, placing her behind a broken slab of stone. Her sword, still sheathed, he tossed down a crack in the floor.
By the time the others noticed she'd fallen behind, the room had shifted.
The fog thickened.
"Where's Jue'er?"
"She was just here!"
"Jue'er—?"
Nothing.
Just laughter.
The Hollow whispered back at them.
Wei Lian watched from the rafters.
One down.
The second kill came after the group stumbled into an illusion corridor.
Spinning light. Distorted gravity. A pulsing sound that mimicked a heartbeat.
They screamed.
They ran.
They split.
That was all he needed.
The unaffiliated boy found himself alone—panting, blade trembling, blood on his sleeve from where a falling stone had grazed him.
Wei Lian stepped out of the fog.
The boy swung reflexively.
Too wide.
Too desperate.
Wei Lian ducked, seized his wrist, and stabbed the dagger into his thigh, then twisted it up—deep into the femoral artery.
The boy collapsed, shrieking.
Wei Lian crouched beside him.
"Should've trusted your instincts."
"I—I didn't do anything—!"
"I know."
He slit his throat.
Two down.
The remaining three regrouped at the base of a collapsed altar.
Lin Yu was shaking.
He kept glancing into the fog.
Wei Lian made sure to step just loudly enough once.
The boy flinched.
He looked behind him—but there was nothing.
The Tiger Fang disciple, frustrated, barked at him.
"Keep your eyes forward! You're jumpier than a rat in a lion's den."
Wei Lian smiled from the ceiling above them, where he crouched like a spider, body pressed against a cracked arch.
He whispered once into the Hollow:
"Let him feel it."
The walls pulsed.
A faint giggle echoed through the stones.
Lin Yu nearly screamed.
They moved again.
Now faster.
More erratic.
Wei Lian adjusted his route.
The third kill was messier.
The Tiger Fang disciple fell into a pit—half by accident, half by illusion. His screams echoed for ten seconds before silence reclaimed him.
Wei Lian didn't need to lift a hand.
Sometimes the Hollow was generous.
That left two.
Lin Yu.
And the last Jade Flare boy.
They ran into the next chamber—a large dome filled with hanging chains and flickering blue torches. The floor was cracked with shifting runes.
An unstable array.
Wei Lian moved around its edge, careful not to step into the field.
He waited.
Watched.
The two began to argue.
"I told you we should've gone right—!"
"She's dead, Li Hao! Everyone's dead!"
"You're acting like this is over. You want to die in here?"
"I—I don't know!"
Perfect.
Wei Lian dropped a pebble behind them.
The Jade Flare boy spun.
Too late.
Wei Lian tackled him into the array.
The runes flared.
Blue light shot upward.
The boy screamed—searing lines etched into his skin.
By the time he collapsed, steam rose from his robes.
Wei Lian vanished into the mist.
Leaving Lin Yu alone.
The boy stumbled backward, face drenched in sweat, lips trembling.
He turned in slow circles, dagger raised.
"Wei…?"
"Wei Lian—?"
"I didn't mean to—"
No answer.
The walls laughed at him.
The ground pulsed.
And from the fog… footsteps.
One set.
Slow. Measured. Final.
Lin Yu backed away until he hit stone.
He dropped to his knees.
"I—please, I had to! They were watching me! Elder Mu—he—!"
The fog parted.
Wei Lian stood there, eyes unreadable, blade still sheathed.
He said nothing.
Just took one step forward.
Then another.
Lin Yu cried out and crawled backward.
"I—I did what I had to! You don't understand!"
Wei Lian stopped one step short.
His voice was ice.
"No. You did what you thought you could get away with."
Then he drew his blade.
No flourish.
No style.
Just steel and silence.
The cut was clean.
Across the throat.
Deep enough that the scream never came.
Lin Yu died on his knees.
The blade hissed back into its sheath.
Wei Lian stared at the body for a moment, then turned away.
There was no pride.
No anger.
Only principle.
A tool had broken.
It was discarded.
He moved deeper into the Hollow.
Now alone again.
Now unburdened.
Ahead, the center ring waited.
And ten would not pass.
But Wei Lian would.
He always did.