"Killing isn't about impulse—it's about strategy."
"Let the enemy draw one blade, while you hide ten."
—Shen
---
Section 1: Infiltration
The rain in Dongshan Town had stopped, but the morning mist had not yet dispersed. Shen stood in front of the ruined temple, gazing silently at the road that led north through the mountains.
He didn't look back.
Because he knew—once he took this step, he could no longer be "Shen."
He changed into a coarse brown robe, carried a worn-out medicine box on his back, hung a few blackened alchemy dregs at his waist, and smeared mud and ash across his face to mimic burn scars. He looked like a destitute wandering apothecary's apprentice trying to survive.
It took Shen three days of walking across a hundred miles to reach the Huanshui Hall's outer compound—the Fire Spirit Branch of its alchemy division.
He didn't use any talismans. Didn't channel any spirit energy.
Because he had none.
But he had experience—when a man has nothing, he most resembles the kind of pawn no one notices.
Huanshui Hall constantly recruited medicine testers and menial laborers from the outer sect. They didn't lack manpower—they lacked obedience.
Shen was quickly kicked into the miscellaneous labor section of the alchemy hall by a rough supervisor.
"You're in charge of lighting the morning fires, cleaning the stoves at night, and dumping the alchemical waste into the slag pit. Got that?"
"Yes," he replied hoarsely, head lowered, without the slightest defiance.
But no one knew—the "waste" he dumped, parts of it were carefully tucked into his sleeve using thin threads and smuggled back to his straw mat.
What he was doing wasn't grunt work.
It was observation, probing, and poison preparation.
---
Section 2: The Enemy's Map
Shen quickly realized that Huanshui Hall was more organized—and more cruel—than he had imagined.
Outer Sect: Medicine slaves, testers, errand workers.
Inner Sect: Blood Spirit Division—responsible for spirit-drawing and blood-refinement experiments.
Core: Sacrifice Hall—deals with "zeroed" individuals (those who failed the cleansing process).
Every cleansing operation was initiated by the Blood Spirit Division and carried out by the Sacrifice Hall. Mu Youlou stood above them all.
This wasn't a sect.
It was a furnace built of human flesh and blood.
Wan'er's name appeared on the list for the "Ninth Round of Spirit-Blood Screening," scheduled in three days. A note beside it read: "Suspected of possessing Phantom Blood Physique. File must remain confidential. Cleanse first, retrieve later."
Shen stared at the record, his chest tightening.
He knew he had to act before then. This wasn't yet the time to save her—first, he had to break the enemy's hand.
While fetching water at the alchemy hall, Shen overheard two disciples talking:
"I heard the vice steward handed Yao Zhen's mission to Su Ming?"
"Of course. Su Ming's his confidant—top hand in the inner sect. Gets things done cleanly."
"But word is they've sent someone to investigate the Fire Spirit Branch too. Someone's been stealing dregs… Could it be one of Su Ming's men messed up?"
"Shhh, you want to get caught?"
Shen lifted the water bucket, a barely visible smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He had found one of Mu Youlou's claws—Su Ming—and the trail of his mistake.
He understood—killing Mu Youlou wasn't possible yet. But Su Ming…
He could strike first. Sever the bloodline. Disrupt the rhythm.
---
Section 3: Kill Order Awakens
That night, Shen sat in the corner of his straw mat, holding a palm-sized talisman paper.
He had extracted five types of poisons from leftover herbs and burned them with Fire Salt Liquid to create pale gray talisman markings.
He was crafting a spell—
"Soul-Cutting Talisman."
Once the talisman touched a spirit cultivator's skin, it would corrode their sea of consciousness, causing temporary spiritual disassociation and chaotic awareness.
Five seconds.
That's all he needed to slit a throat with a dagger.
He would also need a scapegoat, a trap, a corpse. To make this assassination appear like a violent scuffle between medicine testers—a tragic "accident."
He even prepared a forged report, signed under the name of another vice steward "Que Lingyun," suggesting "Su Ming may be trading secrets with rival sects."
Killing wasn't the hardest part.
The hardest part was making someone else look more like the killer than you.
Shen looked at the Soul-Cutting Talisman in his hand and whispered:
> "You won't be the first… nor the last."
"But you—"
"You are the first black piece in my game of vengeance."
---
The night deepened.
Wind rattled the paper window shielded by rags.
That Soul-Cutting Talisman was slipped into his sleeve—tucked closest to his heart.
Shen closed his eyes, mentally rehearsing the kill three times over.
In three days, he wouldn't just kill a man.
He would crack open Huanshui Hall—
With its first fatal fracture.