The forest stretched endlessly, its canopy thick enough to blot out the morning sun. Mist coiled between the trees like silent serpents, and the faint cries of distant beasts echoed from afar.
Wang Chung walked quietly, his steps light, leaving almost no trace. He had long since learned how to move unseen — the habits of a survivor, not a hero. His robe was patched, his sword plain, yet every breath he took carried an invisible weight.
Behind him, in the dust and shadow, three corpses already lay cold.
The Scarlet Sun Sect would not stay silent for long.
By the second day, rumors had already begun to spread in Greenhill Town. Three disciples killed in a single night — their identities confirmed by the sect's insignia, their storage bags missing. Witnesses whispered of a pale youth with cold eyes, walking alone beneath the moon.
And so, a hunter was sent.
---
In a distant town on the other side of the valley, inside a noisy tavern, a tall man in black robes sat quietly in a corner. His hair was streaked with silver, his gaze like twin blades that pierced through lies. A faint scar ran down his neck — a mark earned through countless battles.
They called him Mo Han, a bounty cultivator.
> "Three low-ranked disciples dead?" he muttered, rolling the parchment in his hand. The Scarlet Sun insignia was stamped across it. "And you're offering thirty spirit stones for the killer?"
The messenger bowed hastily. "Senior Mo, this order comes directly from the Scarlet Sun inner sect. They want the killer's head brought back within ten days. His description matches a young man — around twenty, black hair, dark robes, and—"
> "—cold eyes," Mo Han interrupted, smirking faintly. "The type that's seen death before."
He took the bounty slip, tucked it into his sleeve, and rose.
> "Tell your masters they'll have their head. I don't fail twice."
When he stepped outside, the air itself seemed to darken around him. Birds fled from nearby trees. He took one deep breath — and in the next instant, his figure vanished into the wind.
---
Three days later.
Wang Chung sat by a river, washing the blood off his hands once more. The beast he had slain was massive — a second-rank Mountain Tiger, its core already absorbed. The bead inside his soul pulsed rhythmically, slowly refining the qi into something purer.
> "Sixth level of Body Refinement…" he whispered. "Still too slow."
His eyes reflected the river's flow — calm on the surface, but deep and relentless underneath.
Just as he reached for his robe, the faintest shift in the air reached his senses.
Someone was there.
He didn't turn around. Instead, his hand rested lightly on the sword beside him.
A quiet voice came from behind the trees.
> "You move well for someone barely at Body Refinement. The rumors didn't lie."
A man stepped out — black robes, calm steps, and a presence that pressed down like a mountain. His aura was sharp, honed through years of killing.
> "You killed three Scarlet Sun disciples," the man continued, his tone steady. "That was either brave… or foolish."
Wang Chung stood slowly, expression unreadable.
> "If you've come for their heads," he said quietly, "you'll leave without yours."
Mo Han chuckled, shaking his head.
> "Arrogant words. I like them. But arrogance without strength…"
He blurred.
The next instant, a crushing pressure slammed down. Wang Chung's sword was already drawn, his body moving with reflexive precision. Steel clashed against steel — sparks flying, leaves scattering like rain.
The shockwave cracked the riverbank.
Wang Chung was thrown back several steps, blood rising in his throat. Mo Han didn't even flinch.
> "Not bad," Mo Han said, lowering his sword slightly. "You're stronger than I expected. But you're still too green."
Wang Chung's breathing steadied. The bead within him glowed faintly, purifying the chaotic qi in his body. His eyes grew sharper.
He didn't retreat.
> "Then let's see," Wang Chung said, "how green I really am."
And then, he moved — not as a desperate boy, but as a cultivator tempered by pain and purpose.
The clash that followed shook the valley.