The night was colder now—not in temperature, but in spirit.
Xue Yao slipped from the ruined doorway of the abandoned temple and felt it instantly. Wind tasted like warning. Shadows pressed close, watchful and tight. Even the moonlight thinned, as if heaven itself waited for something to break.
Abyss coiled in his chest, voice a needle:
"He draws closer."Xue Yao glided across fractured stone, gaze unflickering.
"Direction?"
"North. High ground. The step of a hunter," the Abyss whispered, slow and savoring.
He allowed himself a slight smirk.
Only a handful would brave the slums at night:
—Soul Trackers
—Remnant Investigators
—Boundary Scribes
Survivors all, but not amateurs.
He slipped through shadow-wrapped alleys, steering clear of lanterns, each step a whisper. Dying echoes and battered remnants pressed against his senses, yet none cut so cold and clear as the threat closing in.
A cultivator—strong—threaded through the filth with ruthless speed.
Xue Yao crouched atop a sagging roof, motionless as stone.
Below, a woman limped, towing a child swaddled in rags.
Behind, someone snored against a broken cart.
To the left, an old man coughed raggedly in his sleep.
He felt all their fading warmth—then, like ink poured into clear water, it vanished, overpowered by a singular blade-edged presence.
Abyss whispered, satisfied:
"There."
His gaze snapped up—a figure descended on a nearby rooftop, its timbers groaning under weight. The newcomer wore black and grey, no lantern or insignia. Only presence.
Aura: razor-sharp, ruthlessly coiled.
Eyes: faint silver—spirit-tracker's mark.
The man whispered words Xue Yao could not hear. A talisman flashed; silver light snaked into the shape of a spectral compass. The needle spun—once, twice—then fixed, unwavering, to the ruined temple behind Xue Yao.
The man's jaw tightened.
"So… that's where the trail breaks."
Xue Yao's eyes thinned.
He'd left no blood, no qi, nothing that should be found.
Abyss answered before he questioned:
"He can sense what others never dream to touch.A Remnant Tracer."
Remnant Tracers. Hunters of spiritual aftermath, drawn by devoured echoes.
This one would make trouble.
A flick of the tracer's hand unleashed another talisman—wind coiled beneath his feet, launching him to the temple's shattered roof with ruthless efficiency.
"He's not weak," Xue Yao murmured.
Abyss's voice dropped to a purr:
"Not a meal yet. Not for you. But the stronger they are, the richer the secrets.
"The tracer crouched, examining moonlit air, every nerve tuned to remnant song. He said nothing—no demand or challenge."
…Come out," he said, voice low.
Xue Yao dropped silently from his vantage. The other man didn't even flinch. They faced each other: between them, broken moonlight and two worlds of shadow.
The tracer studied him.
"…Xue Yao?"
Xue Yao inclined his head.
"So. You know my name."
"You died," the tracer replied, words clipped.
"I did."
"You're not meant to stand again."
A hint of amusement curled Xue Yao's lips.
"Most people aren't meant to die twice either."
The tracer's aura rippled with warning. He drew a slender, silvered blade.
"Answer me. How are you here?"
Xue Yao stood utterly still.
"You first. Who sent you?"
The tracer's jaw muscles coiled.
"…City guard."
"And who owns them tonight?"
No reply. The silence told its own story.
Xue Yao's gaze sharpened.
"Were you at the auction?"
The tracer shook his head, almost imperceptibly.
"No."
"Then how do you know what killed me?"
He hesitated, then:
"The elders marked your remnant. I carry that pattern."
Understanding clicked.
A soul-mark rune—his spiritual death recorded, a beacon for hunters.
This was no arrest.
This was confirmation.
Xue Yao breathed out, slow and measured.
"So that's their assurance."
The tracer's blade lifted.
"Don't resist. Let me check your remnant. If you are Xue Yao, the elders—"
"Will dissect me?" Xue Yao's voice barely changed.
"Will present you alive." The tracer's own voice faltered on 'alive'.
Abyss hummed, droll:
"Alive often means in pieces."
Xue Yao showed no reaction.
"Can't accept that," he said softly.
The tracer's frown deepened.
"You're outmatched. Stand down—
"But Xue Yao had already moved.
Not in attack, but in disappearance—a breath of shadow, a ripple where his figure had been.
The tracer barely blinked before Xue Yao reappeared behind him."
…Shadow-walking?" Awe and disbelief mingled in the man's tone.
"Impossible. With your cultivation—"
"Yes," Xue Yao murmured.
"How did I?"
He leaned in, voice like silk in the dark.
"Ask your elders."
Then gone again—just sound and moonlight where he'd stood.
The tracer spun, blade tense, finding only empty night.
"I'm not here to kill you!"
A faint smile touched Xue Yao's lips from far off.
"I know."
"Then why run?!"
A pause. Xue Yao's eyes went flat and distant.
"Because I haven't decided if you're worth killing."
A beat.
"…Is that your threat?"
"No."
His tone dropped to glacial quiet.
"Just an option."
"They'll seal the city. Block every gate."
"You can't trace me through what's already dead," Xue Yao replied, stepping further into shadow.
A tremor coursed through the tracer—subtle, but real. The slums themselves seemed to listen.
From the darkness, a final warning drifted out:
"Tell your masters—"
A step deeper."
—the Calamity Remnant chooses his own hour."
Another step, now just a voice in memory.
"And they should treasure every moment left."
Wind lashed through the empty yard. The tracer, shivering, found himself alone.
Abyss sounded delighted:
"You've made an enemy. A resourceful one."
Xue Yao slipped through the slums, closing the temple door behind him.
"He'll report?"
"He will."
"The net tightens."
"It will."
Xue Yao smiled, flame flickering at his palm.
"Let them tighten it."
Abyss waited.
"Why?"
He knelt in shadow, hunger glinting in his eyes.
"Enemies who fear you? They come all the closer."
He bared his teeth—not in a smile, but in anticipation.
"And those who come close, Abyss…"
He closed his hand.
"…make the best prey."