The river bend reeked of death.
Corpses of men and beasts lay scattered, drained of blood and crumbling into powder. The patrol's lanterns guttered in the unnatural wind, shadows twisting like snakes.
And at the center of it all stood the man in black.
His robes were torn, his mask cracked, but his eyes burned with feverish pride. A cultivator—Foundation Establishment realm. In the mortal world, he was untouchable.
He stepped over a soldier's shield, crunching it underfoot. "Pathetic mortals," he sneered. "Chickens dressing themselves as tigers. Do you know what you are to us?" He spread his arms, dark Qi swirling. "Livestock."
The last of the soldiers huddled together, shields trembling in their hands. Captain Qiao Ren bled from a cut across his brow but stood at their front, spear planted firm.
"If we are chickens," he said grimly, "then even chickens can peck before they die."
The cultivator laughed, throwing back his head. "Glorious words for an epitaph." He lifted his palm. Dark hunger lashed out, aiming to devour them whole.
The soldiers braced for death.
And then—
A whisper.
It was so soft they almost missed it, carried by the night wind, lighter than a sigh.
But the cultivator heard it. His eyes widened.
"No—"
His dantian ruptured. Qi reversed violently, veins bulging, meridians shattering. He opened his mouth to scream, but ash poured out instead of sound. His body collapsed into dust, scattered across the blood-soaked ground.
Silence fell.
The soldiers blinked in disbelief. The monster who had toyed with them seconds ago was… gone. Not defeated, not slain in battle—erased, as though the heavens themselves had snuffed him out.
One soldier dropped to his knees. "H-Heaven… Heaven protected us."
Another whispered hoarsely, "The rumors… they're true. A hidden immortal walks among mortals."
Captain Qiao clenched his spear tighter, staring into the darkness of the trees. He had heard it too—that faint whisper, softer than falling rain. A man's voice, calm and ordinary, carrying the weight of worlds.
He bowed low, not to his men, not to the sky, but to the shadowed forest.
"Whoever you are… thank you."
But the forest remained silent.
Lucian had already turned away.
Willowbrook, That Night
The willow branches stirred as Lucian returned, slipping into his hut as though he had never left.
He lay down on the simple straw bed, folding his hands behind his head. His eyes drifted to the rafters, expression unreadable.
"Another thread mended," he murmured. "But how many more will fray?"
For two years he had lived as a healer, a neighbor, a friend. Yet the immortal world could not leave the mortal one untouched forever. His whispers would not remain secret for long.
Still… he smiled faintly.
"Let them call it heaven's protection. I'd rather it stay that way."
The Capital, Ironwood Empire
Candles flickered against jade pillars. The imperial court was gathered, ministers bowing in rows before the golden throne.
"Your Majesty," one minister said urgently, "reports from the north claim an entire patrol was saved by divine intervention."
Another scoffed. "Nonsense. Mortals frightened themselves into seeing miracles. If a Foundation cultivator struck, how could common soldiers live to tell the tale?"
"Yet they live," the first insisted. "They speak of a whisper in the dark. A hidden immortal protector!"
The court erupted in murmurs. Some scoffed, others muttered prayers.
On the throne, the Empress sat in silence. Draped in imperial robes, her posture was poised, her gaze calm. To the court, she was unshakable. Untouchable.
But behind her composed expression, her mind turned sharply.
A whisper that erased a cultivator?
Her lips curved faintly. To others, it looked like cold amusement. In truth, it was intrigue.
"If such a man exists," she said at last, her voice steady and commanding, "then we will watch. If he walks among mortals, he is either a threat… or a gift. And the Ironwood Empire cannot ignore either."
The court bowed, her word final.
But when the chamber emptied, the Empress remained seated, her gaze lingering on the night beyond the high windows.
Her reflection in the glass stared back at her—Mo Yueran, sovereign of the empire, woman burdened with heaven's weight.
She whispered softly, a rare smile flickering across her lips.
"A hidden immortal protector… Interesting. I wonder what mask you wear."
Cliffhanger: Empress Mo Yueran sets her sights on Lucian.
Next chapter → Stonewall beast tide begins → Lucian intervenes again → rumors grow louder.