Chapter 3.
That night, five members of the most powerful families in Shenzhou fell silently into the arms of death. No one had noticed yet, but when the sun rose, the entire empire would tremble.
Now, deep in the moonlit forest, the sound of pounding hooves shattered the stillness.
A lone carriage tore through the narrow road, a lantern swinging wildly as it bounced over uneven earth. Inside, a man clutched the edge of the seat, his breath coming in harsh gasps. His silk robe—once pristine—was spattered with wine and fear.
Behind him, shadows moved like living smoke. Six figures. Six hunters. Their movements were too swift, too precise to be ordinary assassins.
One of them broke formation. From his hand slid a short length of polished wood, barely the size of a dagger. With a flick of his wrist, it elongated—unfurling into a gleaming spear.
The figure twirled it once, then hurled it with inhuman strength.
The spear sliced through the night like a streak of silver lightning. It pierced the rear wheel of the carriage, shattering it with a deafening crack. The force ripped half the frame apart, sending the entire carriage into a violent spin before it flipped, splintering wood and shattering glass in an explosion of chaos.
The horses screamed. The driver was flung like a rag doll into the underbrush.
The door burst open, and the man iinside—blood streaming from his temple—crawled out on trembling hands and knees. His heart thundered against his ribs as he staggered to his feet and ran.
The palace wasn't far now. He could see the faint glow of its golden gates in the distance. If he reached it, he would live. He had to.
His lungs burned. His legs screamed. But survival clawed him forward.
A shadow dropped from the treetops ahead.
The man barely had time to raise his sword before steel clashed in a flash of moonlight. A katana curved and flawless met his blade with a ringing cry. The force of the strike sent him stumbling backward, sparks flying as the edge bit into the earth.
Before he could recover, the figure came at him again. One strike. Two. Three. Each blow heavier, faster, fueled by a killing intent that crushed the air around him.
The man gritted his teeth, panic spiking in his veins. He would die here unless…
He roared, summoning the last dregs of his strength. His sword pulsed with pale blue light as he poured his spiritual energy into the blade. The next strike unleashed a shockwave, the force knocking the masked assassin backward although the force was enough to kill an average man.
A hiss of surprise escaped the figure.
The man didn't wait. He ran like a demon was on his heels because six of them were.
Branches whipped his face. Roots tore at his feet. Still, he didn't stop until the towering shadow of the Imperial Palace gates rose before him like salvation.
He crashed against them, fists slamming on the bronze surface. "HELP ME!" His voice cracked. "OPEN THE GATES!"
Torches flared. Guards shouted. The gates groaned as they swung inward, and strong hands dragged him across the threshold.
He collapsed, chest heaving, eyes wide with terror. Behind him, the forest loomed in silence. But he could feel the weight of unseen eyes pressing from the dark.
He turned his head.
There they were. Six figures. Standing among the trees like wraiths carved from shadow. Watching. Waiting.
The man's blood ran cold.
The guards raised their spears, barking threats into the night. The figures didn't move. Didn't speak. And then, as if the darkness itself swallowed them, they were gone.
The man sagged in the guards' grip, trembling so violently his teeth clattered.
"Fetch the Minister!" one of the guards barked. "Hurry!"
The man tried to speak, but only a broken whisper left his lips:
"They… they're here…"he looked back and pointed but nothing. He saw Absolutely No one like they disappeared into dust.
"Minister Wang, it's so late… what happened?"
The Emperor's voice was calm, but a steel edge lurked beneath each word as he settled deeper into the throne. Shadows from the lanterns carved sharp lines across his face.
"Speak, Minister Wang," another court official urged. "Tell us what brought you here in such a state."
Minister Wang stumbled forward, still trembling, his sweat-soaked robe clinging to him like a second skin. Falling to his knees, he pressed his forehead to the cool jade floor.
"Hail His Majesty the sun of the empire," Wang croaked, voice raw with fear. "I… I was returning from the trade route when suddenly, the air around me changed. My guards warned me we were being followed." His eyes darted wildly around the hall, as if expecting shadows to peel themselves from the corners. "Not long after… a bloody battle broke out. My guards… they fought valiantly, but the enemy…"
He swallowed hard, fingers clutching the hem of his robe.
"They were not men… they were predators. Swift as lightning, silent as the grave. My captain shouted their name before he fell to the Wausau Warriors. He told me… if I didn't reach the palace, I would not live to see another day."
Gasps rippled through the court.
"I told the driver to run, not to look back, but…" His voice cracked. "They chased us down—without horses. Their stamina… it was inhuman. They toyed with me… hitting the carriage, breaking the wheels, laughing… I could feel it."
"Wausau?" an older minister whispered, color draining from his cheeks. "You survived a Wausau attack?"
"Did they mark you?" another official asked sharply, his face pale. "I've heard… they mark their victims before they finish the hunt."
Wang froze. His breath hitched as trembling hands fumbled across his body, ripping open his robe at the shoulder, clawing at his arms, his chest, desperate to find nothing. His head shook violently, almost convulsively.
"No… no, no, I—"
A low chuckle slipped through the silence like a blade through silk.
Eyes turned toward the far end of the hall where a man leaned lazily against a polished pillar. His long black hair cascaded down his back like flowing ink, shimmering under the torchlight. He wore a robe of deep crimson slashed with black and omen painted in silk. And his face… his face was a cruel work of art, sharp and smooth, framed by gold-amber eyes that glowed faintly, like molten metal kissed by fire.
He said nothing. He only smiled, the kind of smile that made the air heavier, the shadows darker.
"Escort Minister Wang to a room. Station guards around the palace. How dare they attack a member of the court!" the Emperor thundered, his voice cracking like a whip. "The audacity…"
The officials scrambled to obey, though none dared meet each other's eyes. The Wausau name had turned their blood to ice.
One by one, they filed out, until only silence and that man in red remained. He tilted his head slightly, watching the empty hall with an expression that was almost bored, yet the curve of his lips told another story.
Amusement.
As if all of this fear, chaos—was a game to him.