He moved silently through the woods, steps light on the undergrowth, the morning wind brushing past him like a ghost.
But he was no ghost.
He was very much alive — and so was the man he'd been chasing.
Li Feng.
Or whatever name he wore now.
The mysterious man — known once as Qin Lan — paused by a crumbling stone marker, half-buried in moss. He ran his gloved fingers along the weathered surface, the cold touch of memory sharp and unwelcome.
This place… this world… it didn't deserve Li Feng.
But that hadn't stopped him.
Qin Lan's eyes darkened.
He really thought he could start over. Disappear into the dirt and stars and play at being human again.
Li Feng — the most dangerous weapon their world had known — was now babysitting a wide-eyed boy and walking through forests like a cultivator on a pilgrimage.
Ridiculous.
And yet…
There had been something in his eyes when he faced Qin Lan. Not surprise. Not fear.
Resignation.
As if he knew this moment would come.
Qin Lan leaned against a tree, arms crossed. The sun filtered through the branches, warming nothing.
"Still cold," he murmured to himself. "Even after all this time."
He thought of the past — of fire, and blood, and a battlefield where Li Feng had stood alone, surrounded by corpses.
Back then, he hadn't hesitated. Not once.
Qin Lan chuckled softly. "And now he hesitates—for a boy?"
He remembered the smaller one… Jin Yue. Soft eyes, weak footing, clueless expression.
That boy will be his undoing.
Which might make him useful.
Qin Lan pulled a thin black token from his robes and held it up to the light. A strange symbol shimmered faintly across its surface — an old mark from a forgotten sect.
He flipped it once between his fingers and tucked it away.
"If he won't return to the darkness," Qin Lan said, turning away from the tree, "then the darkness will come to him."
And this time, it won't be merciful.