Midnight spilled over the Li Clan compound like ink across brittle parchment. Inside the old manor walls, lanterns flickered low, their oil nearly burned away. Outside, cold wind rattled the wooden screens, slipping through cracks to kiss ancient stone floors.
In the east wing, Li Tian's study glowed with a single flame — a lone candle, standing vigil over scrolls that reeked of dust and forgotten oaths.
Li Tian sat cross-legged on a floor cushion. The scroll before him was older than his father's reign — a contract inked in blood between the first Li patriarch and the Zhao Clan, a bond that had once kept peace but now chained his house to slow decay.
His fingers traced the faded characters. For a moment, he could almost see his father's shadow — a tired man bowing to serpents in white silk, whispering promises while knives gathered in the dark.
Never again.
Li Tian closed the scroll, pushed it aside. His eyes shifted to the open window latticed with moonlight — the only door he left unlocked tonight.
The System's whisper coiled at the edge of his mind like a silk thread tightening.
[Sub-Mission Active: Survive the Assassin's Greeting.]
A gust of wind snuffed the candle's flame. Shadows reclaimed the corners of the study. Li Tian did not move.
Silence pressed in. Then — a faint whisper, too deliberate to be the wind. The soft creak of old wood under a shifting weight above him.
He did not look up — not yet.
"You've come early," Li Tian said calmly.
A shape dropped from the ceiling beam behind him. No footstep, no breath — only the dry rasp of a blade clearing its sheath. In the window's pale glow, the figure emerged: robes black as crow feathers, face hidden behind a silk mask stitched with the faintest shimmer of scales.
The assassin's shadow slid over the scrolls like a promise of rain.
"You are not your father," the voice rasped — a low, amused hiss, male or female impossible to tell.
Li Tian's lips curved just enough to show teeth.
"No," he said. "I'm worse."
Steel flickered — a ghost's kiss of cold metal brushed the back of his neck.
He moved.
Li Tian rolled sideways across the tatami mat, catching the fallen candle with one hand and hurling it back. Wax and flickering flame struck the assassin's sleeve — a heartbeat's distraction. The curved blade flashed toward his ribs. He met it with his own steel, a short dagger drawn from within his robes — the clash sparked like fireflies in the dark.
Xiao Chen, outside the door, jolted awake at the sound. He peered through the crack but dared not push the door open. All he saw were dancing shadows and blades that caught the moonlight in slivers.
Inside, the assassin hissed a single laugh as the blades bit and skidded.
"Not bad for a sheltered heir."
Li Tian shifted his grip, parrying a downward strike that carved a fresh line across the low table. The inkstone shattered, spraying black droplets across his robes.
"Sheltered?" Li Tian's voice was calm, even as the assassin twisted behind him. "I've lived with knives in my pillow since I could walk."
The assassin pressed close — Li Tian felt the whisper of breath through the mask as a hand darted for his throat. He pivoted, catching the wrist, dragging the attacker off balance. They crashed against the wall, scrolls tumbling like dry leaves.
For a heartbeat, the assassin's eyes met his — clear, bright, and utterly cold.
"Then show me," the masked figure rasped. "Show me you are not your father's ghost."
Li Tian's lips pulled back into a wolf's grin. The Villain System's glow flickered under his skin — an iron pulse beneath flesh.
He slammed the assassin's hand against the wall, pinning the wrist, blade clattering free. His dagger's edge slid under the mask — grazing the stranger's throat.
"If I were him," Li Tian whispered, "you'd have found my head waiting on the pillow."
Outside, Xiao Chen forced the door open, stumbling in just in time to see the assassin kneeling — pinned, but not begging.
The masked figure laughed softly — a sound like steel on silk.
"Good," the assassin murmured. "The Dark Moon does not serve sheep. We serve fangs."
Slowly, deliberately, the assassin pressed two fingers to the blood-smeared floor — the mark of silent submission.
"Young Master Li Tian," the assassin said, voice muffled behind the mask, "tonight, you earn our shadow. Use it well."
[Sub-Mission Complete: Survive the Assassin's Greeting.]
[Villain Points +1500]
[Dark Sect Status: Allied — Limited Loyalty Established.]
Xiao Chen's knees hit the floor. He bowed so deeply he almost toppled over.
"Young Master… you let it live?"
Li Tian lowered the blade, but only a fraction — enough to leave the threat lingering like a dagger in candle smoke.
"The Dark Sect is not a dog," he said softly. "They do not fetch bones. They hunt for wolves worth serving."
He leaned closer, eyes locked on the assassin's hidden gaze.
"Tell your master," Li Tian said, voice cold as mountain snow, "that the Zhao Clan's head will be the first offering. And the last leash this clan will ever wear."
The assassin dipped his head — once — then vanished through the open window in a single fluid motion. No scrape of boots, no sound but the wind reclaiming the silence.
Xiao Chen stared at the empty window, breath fogging in the cold air.
"Young Master… they'll come again, won't they?"
Li Tian's eyes drifted to the blood on the scrolls — thin black lines now smeared with brighter red. His fingers brushed a single, torn parchment — the contract his father once signed in weakness.
He flicked it into the dying candle flame. Paper curled, ink burned, old promises turned to drifting ash.
"They'll come," Li Tian said. "So will the Zhao Clan. So will every viper that thinks I'm alone."
A cold smile cut across his lips — a villain's promise carved into the dark.
"Let them knock. I'll answer."