The fog finally shattered like broken glass.
The air was clear again, but the smell of iron and ash still hung between the rocks of the valley. The midday wind blew gently, sweeping away the remaining wisps of fog—as if the sky itself wished to close its eyes to what had just happened.
Lin Xuan stood with his arms crossed behind his head, staring at the valley expressionlessly. In his eyes, the world seemed like a dream that had just ended.
No one knew that moments earlier, the black power pulsing within his sword had almost awakened the ancient dragon once more.
Feng Zhiren knelt on the ground, panting. The residual light from his sword slowly faded.
Zi Yueyan immediately approached, patting his shoulder.
"You were amazing, Zhiren. If it weren't for your sword strike, we might have vanished with that fog."
Zhiren stared at his hands—still trembling subtly. He smiled faintly, but behind that smile was a chill that refused to leave. "I was just lucky. Master Wei's sacred light must have protected us."
Lin Xuan merely yawned slightly. "Light, darkness, in the end it's all the same—both consume the weak."
Han Jie looked at him annoyed. "Hey, can you stop talking like someone who has lived a thousand years?"
"But it really feels that way," Lin Xuan replied lightly.
That day, they returned to the city.
The merchant caravan began to pack up. Preparations to return to Longyuan.
The stone road to Longyuan stretched long under the pale sunlight. The forest on both sides looked ordinary, but somehow, every step felt like treading on a shadow that hadn't completely faded.
The cartwheels creaked slowly. The wind carried dust and residual fog from the west, soft yet biting.
Occasionally, the sound of a crow was heard in the distance, filling the space between the silences.
Zi Yueyan walked beside Feng Zhiren, checking the wound on the man's arm. "Does it still hurt?"
"Not much," Zhiren replied, his voice calm, but his gaze was empty, as if staring at something far beyond the trees.
"If you are tired, we can rest for a bit," Yueyan said softly.
Zhiren smiled vaguely. "You worry too much."
Their conversation sounded light, but at the end of the procession, Lin Xuan watched the two of them for a long time. He didn't know why his chest felt heavy—not from fatigue, but as if something was pressing from within.
He looked away to the ground, pretending not to care, but his steps suddenly slowed.
"Why does my heart feel so tight?"
he thought, looking at the tip of Yueyan's hair swaying gently ahead.
"Strange. Maybe I held my breath too long in the corridor of spirits earlier."
He smiled a little, laughing at himself.
But behind that laugh, there was a feeling that even he didn't understand—not anger, not envy, just... an inexplicable strangeness he couldn't shake off.
Han Jie broke the silence with a loud voice, "Hey! If we keep going like this, we'll reach Longyuan after the sun sets! Can't you walk a bit faster?!"
Lu Qing sighed deeply. "Stop complaining, Han Jie. You use more energy talking than walking."
The small group laughed lightly—a warm sound of laughter amidst the chill remaining from Heiyan.
But as the laughter subsided, the wind blew softly, carrying a strange whisper from behind them.
"...return..."
Lu Qing stopped instantly. "Did you hear that?"
Han Jie looked at him in surprise. "Hear what?"
"That voice..." Lu Qing turned around, but the road they traveled only held thin fog drifting among the trees.
No one was there.
Feng Zhiren straightened up, his sharp eyes examining the fog for a long time.
"I feel it again," he said softly. "Ever since we left Heiyan... something has been following us."
Lin Xuan pretended to yawn. "Maybe it's just your own shadow."
But behind his half-closed eyelids, he could see—faintly—the shape of the fog indeed moving, following from afar.
The caravan continued walking. The road began to slope down, passing a small river and a pine forest. But the further they traveled from Heiyan, the less the chill diminished.
Instead, it felt closer, as if something from the valley had not finished exacting its revenge.
The sky was still day, but its light slowly dimmed, as if covered by a thin layer of purple mist.
The merchants began to fret, whispering about "residual spirits" clinging to their caravan.
Zi Yueyan looked at the sky. "The sunlight is starting to fade. It's not even evening yet..."
Lin Xuan looked in the same direction, his voice flat. "The corridor of spirits hasn't released its grip. We are bringing something home."
"Bringing home?" Han Jie repeated nervously.
"Yes," Lin Xuan replied, kicking a small stone on the road. "Sometimes a curse isn't an object. It can be a breath, a thought, or even the fear clinging to us."
Feng Zhiren glanced at Lin Xuan. "You talk as if you know a lot about curses."
Lin Xuan shrugged. "A lazy person like me has plenty of time to listen to ghost gossip."
His words made Yueyan chuckle slightly, though the laughter quickly faded. Because at that moment, from the back of the caravan, the sound of crackling twigs was clearly heard—like footsteps following them in the same rhythm.
Feng Zhiren was still standing in his place. His breathing was not truly calm. In his heart, the whispering voice returned faintly—softer, yet more penetrating:
"Power... belongs only to those willing to bear the darkness."
He furrowed his brow, trying to dismiss the echo, but with every passing second, the voice felt more familiar. A part of him did not want to reject it.
Zi Yueyan watched him from afar. Her hand, which had cast a cleansing spell earlier, was still trembling slightly. She stepped closer, looking at Zhiren's back, which seemed heavy with an invisible burden.
"Zhiren," she called softly, "are you alright?"
Zhiren turned slowly. He forced a faint smile, but behind his gaze was something else—cold and alien. "Just a slight headache. Maybe it's the residual spirit energy."
Yueyan was about to reply, but suddenly Lin Xuan was sitting on a rock not far from them, yawning.
"If you want to stare at each other, do it somewhere else. I'm sleepy." His remark was light, but it actually lightened the atmosphere slightly.
Yueyan snorted softly. "You don't even look vigilant, Lin Xuan. If that spirit had attacked you just now, you'd be ashes."
Lin Xuan looked up at the sky, smiling vaguely. "Maybe. But maybe the spirit wasn't interested in a useless person like me."
Zhiren glanced at him. Somehow, that casual sentence caused an unsettling feeling in his chest. He didn't know why—perhaps because behind Lin Xuan's indifferent gaze, there was something he couldn't read.
They walked again. The road home to Longyuan stretched ahead, surrounded by forests and mossy cliffs. The sound of insects began to be heard, signaling the slow approach of evening.
The caravan chose to camp on a plateau before sunset. They built a fire circle, heated simple soup, and lit torches around the camping area.
On the other side, Lin Xuan sat leaning against the roots of a large tree. His face was illuminated by the dancing firelight. He looked as usual—lazy, half-asleep. But his mind was not entirely calm.
He realized his gaze often stopped at Zi Yueyan's figure, who was chuckling across the fire. Her smile was simple, but in the orange light, it looked warm, alive.
He lowered his head, closing his eyes for a moment.
Why am I watching her? he thought. I never cared about anyone...
But the more he resisted, the clearer the girl's face became in his mind. He let out a short sigh and hid his face behind his arm.
Stupid. I'm just tired.
Across the fire, Zi Yueyan occasionally glanced at him. There was something about Lin Xuan that was always hard for her to understand—as if the youth hid more than he revealed. He seemed lazy, but his eyes... those eyes were not empty as usual. There was something there. Her gaze then returned to Feng Zhiren.
"Zhiren, are you alright?" she asked worriedly.
Zhiren nodded quickly. "Just... exhaustion. No need to worry."
But Lin Xuan, from where he was lying, watched with half-open eyes. He could see a faint black aura around Zhiren's chest—like fine veins slowly spreading under his skin.
"The seed is starting to grow," he muttered inwardly.
"That curse never just goes away. The doing of that black-robed figure two days ago."
The night deepened. The merchants were asleep, only a few disciples were on guard. Lin Xuan, who appeared to be asleep under the tree, had not truly closed his eyes. He felt something—faintly, like a gentle pull from the direction of the forest.
A thin fog began to appear again. This time it was not as dense as before, but it brought a bone-chilling cold.
From the distance, whispers were heard, like the voices of children calling.
"Give back... give back the light..."
Lin Xuan opened his eyes. A faint purple light trembled behind his pupils, but quickly faded. He looked around—the guards looked anxious, the fog enveloped the surrounding area.
Feng Zhiren stood up quickly, his sword drawn. "Hold your positions! There's something in the fog!"
Zi Yueyan immediately cast a sacred seal, white light coming from her palm, forming a barrier around the bonfire.
But from the fog, blurry figures emerged—terrifying ghost shadows, half-human, half-smoke. They floated silently, their eyes glowing red like embers.
Their attack came fast. One by one they struck the sacred barrier, making Zi Yueyan's light tremble violently.
"Zhiren!" Yueyan exclaimed.
Zhiren leaped forward, swinging his sword. The sacred light from his core emanated strongly, piercing the fog and shattering several spirits into black ash fragments.
However, the fog did not stop. From every shattered fragment, new shadows emerged.
Lin Xuan slowly stood up. He watched the battle expressionlessly, but his left hand moved subtly—almost invisibly. A thin stream of black qi seeped from underground, merged with the firelight, then flowed towards Zi Yueyan's barrier.
A moment later, the barrier strengthened, its light stabilizing again. The spirits began to scream, then slowly disappeared, swallowed by the light that was suddenly brighter than before.
Everyone thought it was due to Feng Zhiren's full power.
Zi Yueyan looked at him with admiration. "Amazing, Zhiren... you truly saved us."
Zhiren stared at his sword, which still glowed faintly. He felt the energy within him increasing—too fast, too strong. He looked at his own hands, trembling. This isn't entirely my strength... there's something else...
Lin Xuan just smiled slightly as he sat back down. "You guys are so noisy. Now I'm really sleepy."
When the conditions were calm and normal. They rested again.
Dawn broke slowly over the mountains. The caravan continued its journey to Longyuan with tired but safe faces.
Feng Zhiren walked at the front, his eyes sharp but a dark shadow danced behind them. Zi Yueyan beside him still occasionally glanced back at Lin Xuan—the lazy youth who seemed to be asleep on the cart.
They finally arrived at Guangming Academy. And hurried to report the results of their first mission to Master Wei.
The sky over Longyuan City that morning looked bright. The city seemed peaceful, tranquil, and busy as usual—crowds of Guangming Sect disciples passed by with enthusiastic faces, welcoming the arrival of Group 7 after their mission escorting the merchant caravan to Heiyan City.
In front of the Main Hall, the elders gathered on the marble steps. The sound of a large gong rang three times, marking the welcoming ceremony for the disciples who had returned from their mission. Feng Zhiren's name was cheered.
"Incredible! I heard he held off the fog spirits' attack all by himself."
"No wonder he's called the best disciple of Guangming Academy."
"Without him, probably none of them would have returned alive."
The cheers were like a wave that engulfed the large courtyard in front of the hall.
But at the back of the crowd, Lin Xuan.
The youth stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at Zhiren's back, who was being praised by many. His eyes were empty, his lips flat, as if all of it was nothing more than a cheap play before his eyes.
The wind swept his slightly long hair, and in the distance, the tower bell rang softly. But in his ears, all those sounds were just distant echoes...
"Lin Xuan."
A soft voice called him.
He turned slowly. It was Zi Yueyan, approaching him seriously.
"Where are you going? Aren't you going to join the celebration?"
Lin Xuan shrugged.
"Hmm... What for? There's nothing to celebrate. I just want to focus at home today. Resting after that exhausting mission is better than celebrating it with a party, when it was just an ordinary mission."
Zi Yueyan looked at his face for a moment, then looked down.
"You're always like this. You lazy bum."
She was about to say something else, but Lin Xuan had already walked past her.
His steps were casual, but in his chest, there was something strange—an inexplicable feeling of emptiness.
The sky looked beautiful, but to him, that beauty was dead.
The Night of Whispers
That night, the wind from the south blew cold air throughout Longyuan City. In the backyard of his simple residence, Lin Xuan sat leaning against the wall, a oil lamp flickering in the wind before him.
The yellowish light highlighted an object hanging on the wall—a deep red mask with small horns on its forehead.
The mask was covered in dust, cobwebs hanging from its edges. But even in silence, the object seemed to have eyes watching its owner.
Lin Xuan stared at it for a long time.
His calloused hand slowly felt the scar on his finger—a relic of the past.
"It's been five years..."
he said softly.
"Five years since I stopped hunting people's blood and five years since I disappeared."
He took a deep breath, but there was no feeling of relief in his chest. Only emptiness.
The sound of night crickets was loud, but he heard nothing but the echo of his own thoughts.
"I used to think a normal life would bring me peace," he murmured again. "But why does it feel so lonely? Do I only know how to live in combat?"
He closed his eyes, and instantly the world went dark. In that darkness, a faint voice emerged from a corner of his mind.
The voice was heavy, booming, and seemed to come from nowhere.
"Lin Xuan... are you satisfied with this hollow peace?"
"Do you forget... the blood that flows within you is the blood of a hunter?"
He opened his eyes, his breath suddenly ragged.
The oil lamp trembled, its light dancing on the wall like the shadow of someone laughing softly.
Lin Xuan stared at the mask.
For a moment, he felt as if the mask was smiling at him.
"Hmph..."
He turned his face away. "That's enough hallucinations for tonight."
He stood up, lit incense on a small altar near the window, then stared out.
Longyuan looked peaceful under the moon. But in his chest, something pulsed again—like the instinct that had been restrained all this time was waking up from its long sleep.
Days Without Meaning
The next morning, Lin Xuan returned to his routine as a Guangming Academy disciple.
Training, studying spiritual theory, and listening to the master's sermon.
Day after day passed like blank pages being constantly torn and thrown away.
"Lin Xuan! You fell asleep again in the middle of the lesson!"
Master Wei's loud voice made some disciples hold back their laughter.
Lin Xuan straightened up, yawning without remorse.
"Apologies, Master. I was just trying to digest the lesson through a dream."
Some disciples chuckled, but Master Wei let out a long sigh.
"One day, your foolishness will lead you to regret."
Lin Xuan smiled faintly, not responding.
He looked out the window, towards the calm blue sky.
For others, a peaceful day was a blessing. But for Lin Xuan, it was like an invisible prison.
The Night's Whisper
That night, he returned to his room.
The red mask still hung on the wall, but now, for some reason, the moonlight made it look different—more alive, more beckoning.
Lin Xuan closed his eyes, trying to sleep. But as soon as his mind began to quiet down, the voice came again.
This time it was clearer, as if someone was whispering right into his ear.
"Do you know why your heart is empty, Lin Xuan?"
"Because this world is too peaceful for you."
"Your world is that of a hunter... not a lazy disciple."
He opened his eyes.
Cold sweat trickled down his temples.
"Enough," he said softly, but his voice trembled.
He stood up, staring at the mask.
"You are just a shadow of the past."
But suddenly, the night wind blew harder.
The oil lamp went out.
And in the darkness, from the direction of the mask, a low laugh echoed softly.
"You can fool the world, Lin Xuan... but not yourself."
Lin Xuan stared at the mask's face—red, with an evil smile, and small horns on its forehead.
Then he lowered his head, clenching his fists tightly.
"Maybe I don't deserve a peaceful life."
Lightning flashed outside the window for a moment, illuminating the room—revealing Lin Xuan standing before his old mask, and a shadow on the wall that was not just him... but a tall, large horned figure behind him.
–––
The next day, the sky over Longyuan was filled with soft morning light.
Lin Xuan walked alone on a narrow path at the edge of the forest. A worn cloth bag hung on his shoulder—he intended to look for wild mushrooms and river fish for breakfast and lunch.
It sounded simple, tranquil... but his steps felt heavy.
The forest air was so quiet that every rustle of leaves was clearly heard.
But beneath that tranquility, something stirred.
A high-pitched scream broke the silence.
A large white serpent demon darted between the trees, chasing a ragged youth who was running in fear.
The serpent's skin shimmered like pearl, and in the white mist enveloping it, the silhouette of a beautiful but dangerous woman was visible—her eyes like frozen jade, her smile like poison.
Lin Xuan stopped in the middle of the path.
He briefly considered avoiding it. But when he saw blood dripping from the youth's shoulder, something within him trembled.
His old instinct—the hunter's instinct—tautened every fiber in his body.
"Damn it," he muttered quietly. "It seems I really can't live a peaceful life."
In an instant, heat filled the air.
His sword—Yanlong, appeared from a dark red spiritual circle in his hand.
As soon as the blade emerged, the surrounding light dimmed. The forest mist became heavy.
The sword trembled softly, pulsing in the same rhythm as its master's heartbeat. Black smoke and the scent of iron blood seeped from the blade.
"Yanlong... you're still as greedy as ever," Lin Xuan murmured softly, his fingers stroking the side of the sword like calming a hungry beast.
From within the sword, a low voice seemed to whisper.
"You woke me, master... who will you kill this time?"
Lin Xuan was silent, but his pupils reflected the same red color as the blade.
The serpent demon stopped, looking at him with an expression of interest.
Its form slowly changed—from a giant serpent to a beautiful woman dressed in white, her skin pale and shimmering like jade, her long hair dancing with the wind.
"Interesting..." her voice was soft but sharp.
"You are a mere mortal, but your aura... is so dark. Who are you, really?"
Lin Xuan looked at her flatly.
"You don't need to know who I am."
The woman smiled, bowing slightly.
"But your body holds something... something that once made the demon world tremble."
Before she could even get closer, Lin Xuan raised his sword. In one light swing, a wave of black energy shot out—slashing the white mist as if tearing thin cloth.
A sharp scream was heard. The woman was thrown backward, white blood spurting from her shoulder.
But Lin Xuan's gaze remained calm, cold.
"You may leave... if you still wish to live."
The woman trembled. But in her eyes, there was now a fear much deeper—not just of Lin Xuan's power, but of something she recognized in the man's aura.
An aura that was once only possessed by one person in the human world...
"Impossible..."
She slowly knelt, her breath trembling.
"This aura... the aura that once shook the north of Xiyang... You—you... Could this Aura be... I recognize it... it can't be wrong... you—you are the Red Devil Masked Man...?"
Lin Xuan stared at her flatly.
"That man died five years ago."
However, when he raised the sword, the red light from Yanlong ignited a shadow on the ground—the shadow of a demon-masked man, staring back from the past.
The white Serpent Demon wept, pleading,
"Forgive me... I was only hungry..."
Lin Xuan approached slowly, his sword blade resting on the demon's chin.
"In that case, atone for your sins."
"W—with what...?"
"With your life."
A faint smile was etched on Lin Xuan's face, cold and beautiful like cracked ice.
"Starting today, you will hunt with me. Evil spirits, criminals, rotten demons—all that is impure in this world will be food for me. And you... will be my hand behind the fog."
The red flash on his sword subsided, as if satisfied. The white Serpent Demon bowed deeply in fear, she knelt and then slowly nodded.
"Very well... my lord..."
Lin Xuan looked at her again, now with a curious gaze.
"Hey... Beautiful, what is your name?"
"My name is Bai Suyin, master."
"A good name," he said, lifting the woman's chin. Lin Xuan smiled widely.
Bai Suyin was still kneeling on the damp ground of the forest. The morning dew was still clearly visible there, creating a thin mist that swirled around them.
Silence swallowed everything.
Only the sound of the wind and their heartbeats could still be heard between the two of them.
Lin Xuan spun his sword once, shaking off the residual black energy from the blade. After that, he looked at Bai Suyin again with an inscrutable gaze—a mix of coldness, pity, and something that almost resembled compassion.
"From now on," he said softly, "you are no longer a free demon. You serve me. I don't care how many lives you've taken before, but you will atone for everything starting today."
Bai Suyin bowed even lower. "I understand... my lord."
Lin Xuan finally returned to searching for fish in the river or gathering wild mushrooms to eat. He wanted to save his money, so he did that today. Bai Suyin seemed to follow him from behind. And they were like two humans who were connected. Even though one of them was a white Serpent Demon.
"Your demon side is a white Serpent," Lin Xuan stated.
"How long can you stay in your human form? Were you truly a demon from the start or a cursed human?" He asked curiously.
Bai Suyin looked at Lin Xuan's back walking among the dense trees, his steps light yet full of caution. In his hand, Lin Xuan then carried a long bamboo pole with a rope and a simple hook tied to the end—an improvised fishing rod he assembled from a forest branch.
The man's question hung in the air, like an echo difficult to answer.
"I..." Bai Suyin paused for a moment, her eyes looking at the calm river current before them. "I don't know if I can still be called human."
Lin Xuan sat down on the edge of a large rock, casting his hook into the clear water. He glanced at Bai Suyin, his expression remaining flat.
"Don't know?"
"I was born human," Bai Suyin said slowly. "But... when I was ten, I died from a snake's poison in the Beitian forest valley. My mother begged the mountain spirit to save me. And it wasn't a god that came, but a white serpent demon."
She looked down, clenching her fingers.
"That demon gave me half of its life... and took half of my soul in exchange. Since then, I can't die—but I'm also no longer fully alive."
Lin Xuan was silent. The sound of the river flowed gently, reflecting the shadows of the leaves moving in the wind. He stared at the slightly rippling water surface, then mumbled softly,
"Half-human, half-demon... not a fair choice."
Bai Suyin looked at him surprised. "You don't hate me?"
"If I hated you," Lin Xuan replied flatly, "you would have been dead a moment ago."
For a fleeting moment, a small smile appeared at the corner of Bai Suyin's lips. For some reason, she felt safe near the man—even though Lin Xuan's aura was cold and frightening, there was something protective behind his frigidity.
Lin Xuan slowly pulled his hook. A small fish was caught, still struggling to fight.
"Enough for breakfast," he said flatly.
Bai Suyin crouched beside him, observing the fish with sparkling eyes. "Funny... it's been a long time since I've seen something like this. You... live simply, don't you?"
Lin Xuan gave a quick look. "I just don't like being hungry. You're hungry too, aren't you? I'll catch one more fish for you."
Bai Suyin immediately felt delighted. She did not know when the last time she felt warmth from a human was.
Lin Xuan then started a small fire with dry twigs.
While the fire was burning, Bai Suyin sat across from him, watching how Lin Xuan calmly grilled the fish, as if there were no burdens on his mind. But Bai Suyin knew—behind that silence, this man hid something much deeper than just a dark past.
"Uh, master," Bai Suyin called softly, "earlier... when your sword shone red, I felt something. Like screaming souls. Is that sword alive?"
Lin Xuan looked at the embers in front of him. For a moment, the reflection of the red light danced in his eyes.
"Yanlong is no ordinary sword," he said slowly. "It holds the blood of an ancient black dragon. Every time I use it, the sword demands a price—from both my enemies and myself."
"A price?"
"Yes."
Lin Xuan looked straight at her. "Every drop of blood spilled will strengthen the sword... but also weaken my heart."
Bai Suyin lowered her head, not daring to speak further.
The wind blew gently again, causing leaves to fall between them. The sound of morning birds was heard from afar.
After a while, Lin Xuan stood up, took his sword, and sheathed it back to his waist and then stored it in another dimension.
"That's enough rest. We're moving south. If my guess is correct, there's a village there filled with bandits."
Bai Suyin stood up, nodding softly. "Very well, my lord."
Lin Xuan looked at her for a moment.
"Don't call me master. My name is enough."
"Very well... uh, but I don't know your name yet."
Bai Suyin's tone was gentle, almost a whisper.
"My name is Lin Xuan, call me Lin Xuan or just Xuan,"
Bai Suyin seemed to nod, finally knowing the true name of the Legend of the Red Devil Masked Man.
They began to walk along the riverbank, leaving the slowly fading fire behind them. Thin fog still hung in the air, and between the dim trees, two shadows moved slowly—human and demon, each carrying secrets they couldn't let go of.
In the distance, the morning sunlight began to pierce through the gaps in the forest, warming the path that would lead them towards Longyuan, the place where the past and the future would meet again.