Chapter 13: The Shadows Move
The night was quiet. The streets outside the inn were empty, lit only by a few dim lanterns swinging in the cold breeze.
Inside, Lina and Raizen were already asleep. Lian had dozed off not long after, his breathing steady.
Ashen sat by the window, eyes half-open, watching the flickering light outside. He hadn't slept. He couldn't.
That killing intent from earlier — it wasn't random. It was sharp, controlled. Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing.
And they were still out there.
Ashen stood slowly, pulling on his coat. The floorboards didn't make a sound under his steps.
He took one last look at his sleeping companions and muttered quietly,
> "Stay asleep. I'll handle this."
He stepped out into the night.
---
The air outside felt heavier than before. The streets were still, almost too still.
He walked toward the edge of the sect's small district — a narrow alley where the lantern light didn't reach.
There it was again.
That same cold, murderous presence. Faint, but close.
Ashen stopped walking.
> "You followed me all this way," he said flatly. "Come out."
No answer.
A loose tile shifted on a nearby roof. Then another.
Someone was moving fast, trying to stay hidden.
Ashen's hand moved — two fingers pressed together, tracing a short motion in the air. The technique flared, unseen but sharp.
He didn't need to see to know where they were.
He could feel them.
> "There," he muttered.
A figure darted from the shadows, fast and silent — a masked assassin, blade glinting in the moonlight.
The attack came quick — a slash aimed right at his throat.
Ashen leaned back, the blade cutting air just inches away. He caught the attacker's wrist and twisted hard, sending the weapon clattering across the stones.
The masked man flipped back, landing low and steady. Not an amateur. His movements were trained — clean, professional.
Ashen's eyes hardened.
> "You're skilled," he said. "But you picked the wrong target."
The assassin said nothing, only rushed forward again, faster this time.
Steel flashed. Sparks flew.
Ashen moved like water — calm, controlled, but every counter carried crushing force.
A knee to the gut — a strike to the ribs — the masked man staggered but didn't fall. He spat blood, adjusted his stance, and drew a second hidden blade.
Ashen raised an eyebrow.
> "Two blades? Fine."
The clash rang through the alley — short bursts of sound, metal against air, until Ashen's foot slammed into the attacker's chest, sending him flying against the wall.
The man slid down, coughing. His mask cracked, half falling away.
He glared up, eyes filled with hate — and fear.
Ashen crouched slightly, voice low and cold.
> "Who sent you?"
The man spat to the side, blood mixing with dust. "You'll… find out soon enough."
Ashen's tone dropped.
> "No. I'll find out now."
He pressed a hand over the attacker's chest — Qi energy pulsed faintly. The man's body jerked, veins glowing faint blue — then he froze, his eyes rolling back.
A faint smoke escaped from his mouth — poison. A seal to keep him from talking.
Ashen pulled his hand back, watching as the body went still.
> "Tch. Suicide seal."
He looked up at the rooftops again. The wind blew softly through the empty street.
> "So, this isn't just a grudge," he muttered. "Someone planned this."
He glanced toward the inn in the distance — where Lian and the others were still asleep.
> "If they're after him," he said quietly, "they'll come again."
Ashen stared down at the motionless assassin, then straightened.
The night wind brushed past, carrying the faint smell of iron.
He didn't leave right away. His instincts were still screaming.
Someone else was nearby. Stronger.
He turned his head slightly. The faint Qi trace didn't vanish with the assassin's death — it stretched farther east, faint but steady.
Toward the river outside the sect's walls.
> "So, you were just bait," Ashen muttered.
He started walking.
---
The path grew quiet the farther he went. The moonlight hit the river, turning it silver.
The air was colder here — still, heavy.
Then he saw him.
A man stood near the riverbank, wearing gray robes and no weapon. His hair was silver at the tips, his expression calm but unreadable.
Ashen stopped several meters away.
> "You've been watching since the alley," Ashen said. "You're not even trying to hide it."
The man smiled faintly.
> "Sharp senses. Not bad for someone your age."
Ashen's eyes narrowed.
> "You sent that assassin?"
The man shook his head.
> "No. I was only watching. But you handled him well. You're not just some country boy."
Ashen didn't respond. His stance shifted slightly — relaxed, but ready.
The man raised a brow.
> "No need to be so tense. I'm not your enemy. Unless you make me one."
Ashen's tone was cold.
> "Then stop talking like one."
The man chuckled. "Fair enough."
He looked at the river, hands behind his back.
> "Tell me, boy. What would you do if strength itself stood against you?"
Ashen's voice was calm.
> "I'd break it."
The man smiled.
> "Good answer. Let's see if you can prove it."
He stepped forward, and before Ashen could blink, the man was already in front of him.
Ashen blocked just in time. The impact shook the ground, dust flying.
He slid back several steps, boots digging into the dirt. His arms ached from the pressure.
> "He's fast," Ashen muttered.
The man grinned.
> "And you're still standing. Not bad."
He attacked again — faster.
Ashen dodged, countered, and blocked, each movement sharp and efficient. When the man swung again, Ashen twisted his body and slammed his palm against his ribs.
The man barely moved, then caught Ashen's arm and threw him toward the riverbank.
Ashen rolled midair, landing hard but balanced.
> "You've got skill," the man said. "But not enough."
Ashen's eyes stayed locked on him.
He exhaled slowly, his Qi pulsing through his body.
This time, a faint light surrounded him — an aura, deep and controlled.
The man's eyes narrowed, clearly surprised.
He could sense it — Ashen's cultivation level wasn't high, yet the precision of his Qi control was far beyond normal. It was refined, compact, and perfectly directed.
> "That control…" the man muttered. "Impossible at your level."
Ashen's expression didn't change. The air around him grew heavier.
> "You talk too much," he said quietly.
Then he moved.
The ground cracked beneath his step.
Ashen's fist glowed faintly as he charged, every movement sharp and condensed — no waste, no flare.
The man reacted instantly, countering with his own strike.
Their fists met — and the explosion of force tore the air apart.
BOOM!
A massive wave of pressure blasted outward, shaking the trees and throwing water high into the air. The river rippled violently, as if struck by a storm.
Ashen skidded back but held his ground, dust and mist swirling around him. The man had slid a few steps too — his sleeve torn at the edge.
He looked down at his hand. It was trembling slightly.
He clenched it into a fist, feeling a sharp sting deep inside.
> "That strike…" he thought, eyes narrowing. "He didn't just attack from outside — he sent his Qi inside the impact."
Ashen specialized in internal penetration — directing his Qi through contact to attack from within, not just the surface. Even a small hit could cause deep damage.
The man smirked, shaking his hand.
> "Interesting technique. You hit like a veteran, not a kid."
Ashen stayed silent, his aura still flaring faintly.
The man lowered his stance slightly, the tension easing from the air.
Ashen's eyes narrowed.
> "What's your purpose?" he asked coldly.
The man glanced at him with a faint grin.
> "Purpose? Nothing much," he said. "I was only watching the town. Then I saw you fight those assassins — the ones after your friend."
He stepped closer, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes.
> "I was curious. You sensed me watching from that far away. Not many at your level could've done that."
Ashen didn't reply, his guard still up.
The man chuckled softly.
> "Relax. I'm not your enemy. I just wanted to see for myself the person who protected others and even managed to track me down."
He tilted his head slightly, smiling.
> "Now that I've seen enough, I'm satisfied."
Ashen's expression hardened.
> "You came all this way just for that?"
> "Sometimes," the man said, turning toward the river, "the strong seek only to see who else walks the same path."
He looked up at the moon, his tone calm again.
> "Remember this night, boy. One day, we'll meet again — maybe as allies, maybe not."
Before Ashen could say anything more, the man's figure blurred — vanishing into the mist.
Ashen stood in silence, the wind rustling the grass around him.
He clenched his fist slowly.
> "So he was just watching…" he muttered. "Then I'll be ready next time."
The river beside him glimmered faintly under the moonlight.
Ashen looked at his reflection — calm, steady, but the memories behind his eyes stirred quietly.
A faint smile formed on his face.
He remembered faces from his past world — comrades, rivals, and those who also sought strength not for glory, but for meaning.
Those who trained under the sun and bled under the same stars.
> "People never change," he whispered. "Always chasing strength… and something beyond it."
For a moment, the night felt warmer.
Then, his expression hardened again.
> "But this time," he said quietly, "I'll walk a different path."
He turned away from the river and started back toward the inn.
The moonlight followed him as if watching silently — the calm before another storm.