Rain still clung stubbornly to the streets of Azure Tempest City, slicking the cobblestones with a mirror-like sheen that reflected the first muted light of dawn. Mist curled through narrow alleyways, climbing lampposts and twisting around the sharp angles of rooftops like living fingers. From his perch atop the northern cliffs, Tiān Lán's storm-blue eyes scanned the city below with a predator's precision, his Sprint Realm aura pulsing faintly, imperceptible to all but the most attuned cultivators.
The city stirred like a great beast awakening from slumber—merchants rattling their stalls, servants hurrying between houses, and shadowed figures slipping through alleys with careful, deliberate steps. Every motion left a faint imprint in the qi currents, a subtle disturbance that Tiān Lán mapped instantly, committing every pattern to memory.
Beside him, the Guardian shimmered faintly, threads of energy snaking toward the streets below like invisible sentinels. The dragon coiled lazily around the cliff's edge, translucent scales catching the early light, while the fox spirit darted along rooftops, testing shadows for anomalies.
"They move as if they command the city," Tiān Lán murmured, voice low and deliberate, "yet they are already dancing to my rhythm. Every misstep… will be their undoing."
---
The distant clatter of wheels drew his attention. A black lacquered carriage rolled through the eastern gates, crimson sigils glinting faintly under the dawn light. Even from afar, Tiān Lán could feel the subtle pressure of their presence—refined, disciplined, controlled. The leaders of the Crimson Lotus had come to see the Mountain Phantom for themselves.
Two figures emerged, their steps precise, aura radiating authority and danger. One exuded Spirit Severing mastery, a sharp, jagged qi slicing through the air. The other's energy was quieter, restrained, yet undeniably lethal—like a predator waiting for the perfect strike. Their gaze swept across the city, scanning each shadow, each flicker of movement, as if trying to unravel the unseen web Tiān Lán had already woven.
"They are formidable," he said softly. "Yet pride… pride is always their weakness."
Ling Yan materialized beside him, silent as the mist, her presence a whisper of intent. "They will test you soon," she said. "The Crimson Lotus is more than a sect. It is a network, and they will use every trick, every deception to break you… before the world even knows you exist."
Tiān Lán's lips curved faintly. "Then I will ensure their first attempt leaves them questioning their own shadows."
---
By midday, the city became a stage. The Crimson Lotus leaders dispersed among merchants and nobles, their eyes noting every stall, every passerby. Tiān Lán followed unseen, his threads of Guardian energy mapping their positions, every movement cataloged, every shadow measured.
Then the strike came.
Cries erupted, stalls splintered, poisoned darts flew through the air, and elemental qi ripped through the streets. Agents of the Lotus descended from every corner, fast as the wind, their attacks precise, brutal, and merciless.
Tiān Lán moved like smoke. Sprint Realm mastery allowed him to phase between spaces faster than the eye could track. Threads of Guardian energy wrapped around limbs, disarming opponents before they realized they were trapped. His spirit beasts blurred through the chaos—the dragon's tail smashing through rooftops to redirect attackers, the fox spirit leaving arcs of fire to distract, illusions flickering across puddles to mislead.
Not one enemy died. Each strike, each calculated displacement, left humiliation in its wake. This was not vengeance—it was a warning. A message: I am already beyond your grasp.
From shadowed corners, the Crimson Lotus leaders narrowed their eyes. One whispered, almost to himself:
"He is no ordinary Sprint Realm cultivator… his perception… it defies reason."
---
When the streets returned to uneasy calm, Tiān Lán retreated to the cliffs. Below, the city lay unaware of how close shadows had come to swallowing it, or how every move had been intercepted before it could land.
Ling Yan appeared, expression unreadable. "They have seen your skill," she said. "But raw power will not suffice. The Lotus will escalate. And you must do the same."
Tiān Lán's gaze swept the city, storm-blue eyes burning with a cold, unyielding fire. "I have waited a lifetime for this. Every betrayal, every stolen moment, every piece of what was mine… it will all be returned. And every hand that took from me will be counted."
The Guardian shimmered, threads stretching like silent fingers across rooftops and streets, touching every shadow, sensing every heartbeat. The fox spirit darted in arcs of faint flame, leaving trails of illusory qi, while the dragon coiled above like a sentinel waiting for the first drop of blood.
Tiān Lán exhaled slowly, a vow forming in the depths of his mind:
> Shadows rise, the night ignites,
Steel meets storm in endless fights.
Betrayal wakes, and vengeance calls,
Every empire of lies will fall.
The words lingered in the air, a murmur that no assassin, no spy, no hidden watcher could ignore. It was a promise and a warning—the Mountain Phantom had returned, and Heaven itself would tremble for what had been stolen.
Far beyond the mountains, unseen eyes calculated, plotted, and whispered. The first wave had passed, but the war—true, silent, and inevitable—was only beginning.
Tiān Lán's storm-blue eyes reflected the first rays of sunlight glinting off rooftops. Guardian threads shimmered faintly, spirit beasts circling with silent anticipation. A single thought crystallized, whispered to himself:
Shadows rise, the night ignites…
Every betrayal will taste my wrath.
And as the city below slowly returned to its routine, none knew that the Mountain Phantom had already claimed the night—and the storm had only begun.