The skies over Shang City had turned grey by morning. A strange stillness hung in the air.
Zhen Zenin walked through the academy courtyard, his gaze steady, his steps calm. But inside, he felt the shift—like a hunter sensing a rival stalking the same prey.
Something was watching him.
He could feel it.
---
In the outer district, the cloaked figure from the ambushed caravan stepped into an old apothecary. The shopkeeper bowed deeply.
"Master Fang, we've cleared the roads. No one will interrupt."
Fang nodded. "Good. Then the boy has no way to flee."
He tossed the blood-marked scroll onto the table. Zhen Zenin's name burned crimson, surrounded by sigils of binding.
"High priority," he said. "He must die before he reaches Foundation Establishment."
---
Back at the academy, Zenin returned to his personal chamber and knelt before the flame altar he had secretly constructed. Spirit herbs burned slowly in the basin, releasing silver smoke.
He placed his hand on the jade pendant he always wore—one of the only possessions left by his "mother."
But today, it responded.
Faint demonic energy pulsed through it.
"…You left me one thing after all," Zenin murmured. "A shard of my old power."
He crushed the pendant.
A single rune floated in the air, spinning slowly.
It was a lost Demonic Scripture—one of his original soul techniques.
Zenin grinned.
With this, he could force his breakthrough to Qi Gathering – Stage 6 within days.
---
But across the city, Fang gathered a group of masked assassins. Each bore the sigil of the Raven Sect.
"He trains in secret," Fang said. "We strike on the night of the blood moon—five days from now."
One assassin asked, "What if he's stronger than expected?"
Fang's eyes narrowed. "Then we remind the world why our sect rules the shadows."
---