The sun had long dipped behind the jagged peaks of the western ridge, casting the Qin Clan's outer courtyard in bronze shadow. Behind the old, crumbling training hut where moss crept over splintered wood and weeds broke between worn flagstones Qin Zhen sat alone beneath a withered tree.
The bark was dry and cracked, like the bones of an ancient beast. Above, its leafless branches rattled in the wind, whispering secrets long forgotten.
Before him, the assassin's belongings lay neatly spread: a worn spirit pouch stitched with faded talismans, a qi-forged steel sword with notched edges, and a strange black token cold as ice and etched with symbols that stirred a deep, primordial unease.
Qin Zhen narrowed his eyes at the token. His fingers hovered just above it, feeling its chill even before touching it.
Then he grasped it.
[Seal of the Abyssal Heaven Sect]
Status: Extinct
Type: Soul-bound Identification Token
Energy Signature: Faint trace of Primordial Laws
Connection to user: None
Compatible with host's bloodline
He turned it slowly in his palm, feeling the faint pulsing resonance hidden beneath the surface. The sigil twisting into itself like a spiral devouring light seemed to shimmer when it caught the moonlight.
"Abyssal Heaven Sect…"
The name was a whisper on the edge of memory. But to Qin Zhen, it was more than memory. It was history.
His history.
"They were annihilated in the Great Cleansing War," he murmured, voice like flint against stone. "Ten thousand years ago. I led that war."
He had stood atop burning temples. He had shattered their Heaven Binding Totem himself. He remembered the cries, the blood, the curses hurled at him by mad prophets screaming of endless return.
So how... how had this token survived?
The token pulsed faintly in his palm.
Compatible with host's bloodline.
That detail disturbed him more than anything.
"The assassin was from the Qin Clan," he muttered, brow furrowed. "So how did a clan enforcer end up with a soul-bound relic from a dead sect?"
Two possibilities presented themselves.
Neither comforting.
One: the Abyssal Heaven Sect had survived, hidden and festering for ten thousand years.
Two: something worse had returned.
He exhaled slowly, letting the token slip back into the pouch. Then his eyes turned to the second item a beast core, round and opalescent, swirling faintly with contained qi.
Low-grade. But useful.
"This will do for now."
His fingers tightened slightly as he stood, glancing up at the dead tree.
He'd used to train here when he was still called a prodigy before the awakening ceremony had shattered his future. Back when his uncles smiled politely, and elders muttered about his "potential."
Now they barely looked at him. Some wished him dead. Others had tried to make it happen.
But they would regret not finishing the job.
"Tomorrow," he said softly, "I return to the clan hall."
His eyes hardened.
"Not as a cripple. As a cultivator. As a threat."
Elsewhere, In a Forest of Snow
The sky was a pale silver, draped with drifting snowflakes that danced like falling feathers. In the middle of a frozen grove stood a girl unmoving, serene.
Her robes were pure white, embroidered with faint blue thread along the sleeves and collar. Each fold looked freshly washed, untouched by the snow. A subtle shimmer trailed around her ankles, melting flakes before they could stain her hem.
Her silver hair caught the light like polished starlight, and her skin was flawless pale, but not lifeless. Her eyes remained closed, her breathing faint, like a statue carved from moonlight.
Then without warning her eyes opened.
Silver irises, glowing faintly, shimmered with threads of starlight coiled in their depths.
"…He's awakened," she said, barely above a whisper.
Behind her, kneeling in the snow, a shadowed figure stirred. An old man in black robes, with skin like cracked marble and fingers pressed against the earth.
"Lady Xue," he murmured, "shall we act?"
She was silent for a long moment.
Then she shook her head.
"No. He will come to us." She smiled faintly. "He always does."
Snow continued to fall.
But the air had changed.
Back at the Qin Clan – Outer Courtyard
The outer courtyard bustled during the midday hour. Sparring rings echoed with shouts and clangs. Disciples lined up at the resource hall. Gossip spread like wildfire between sect errands and training rotations.
Then silence fell.
One by one, heads turned.
Qin Zhen had returned.
He walked through the main path of the outer courtyard, no longer hugging the walls like a ghost. His robes were simple, still marked with faint patches from old sparring sessions, but clean. His back was straight. His stride smooth. His eyes calm.
It wasn't loud. He didn't make a scene. But everyone noticed.
"That's… is that Qin Zhen?"
"The cripple?"
"No way. Didn't he get beaten half to death two days ago?"
"He should still be in bed!"
Some whispered with morbid curiosity.
Others scoffed.
But few laughed.
There was something about the way he walked. About the tension in his shoulders. About the sheer calm radiating from his steps.
He walked past a group of outer hall disciples, many of whom had tormented him over the years. They stared, stunned into silence.
Then he stepped up onto the stone platform at the center of the courtyard the arena reserved for sparring duels and public tests.
"I, Qin Zhen," he said, voice firm and clear, "challenge Qin Wu, Senior Disciple of the Outer Hall."
The silence exploded into chaos.
"What?!"
"He's challenging Qin Wu?!"
"Qin Wu's a second-layer Skin-Refining expert! He'll break him in half!"
Qin Wu was already standing at the edge of the crowd, laughing openly. His arms were crossed, and a sneer played across his broad face.
"Well, well," he called. "The cripple grows fangs. Have you finally decided to die standing instead of crawling?"
He walked forward, making a show of rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.
"You sure you want this, cousin?" he said with mock concern. "You barely survived last time. I might accidentally slap you into a coma again."
Qin Zhen's lips twitched.
It might've been a smile.
"Try."
That one word stopped even the hecklers.
The atmosphere shifted. It no longer felt like a joke.
[Duel Challenge Accepted]
Reward (Optional): Qin Clan Outer Hall Elder Evaluation
Victory Requirement: Defeat Qin Wu in under 5 minutes
In the upper gallery, hidden behind a railing of dark oak, Elder Meng watched with narrowed eyes. He had dismissed Qin Zhen years ago. But now... now the boy stood with purpose.
The duel would begin soon.
Qin Zhen stepped back, taking his place on the arena's marked circle.
He let his fingers flex and relax. He could feel the low-grade beast core he had consumed earlier settling into his meridians, slightly smoothing the qi flow. His spirit energy remained faint just barely enough to not raise suspicion but his body felt tighter, more responsive.
One duel. Five minutes. A single opening.
He cracked his knuckles.
"I've just the technique in mind."