The mist stirred. It was silent... Too silent
For the briefest moment, he thought he saw a shadow moving along the horizon, too swift and soundless to be human. His chest tightened. He was no longer alone.
Lin Feng sat rigid on his raft, dagger clutched tight. The mist pressed close, swallowing the stars. Each creak of the wood beneath him rang like thunder in his ears. He had the sickening feeling that someone had come for him.
Then.. splash.
Not far. Something broke the surface of the water, deliberate, controlled. Lin Feng twisted, heart racing, eyes straining to pierce the fog.
A whisper of fabric brushed the air. Another splash. Then silence again.
He stood, breath shallow. "Who's there?"
The mist answered with a hiss of steel. From above, a blade cut downward, silent, precise. Lin Feng barely rolled aside in time, the dagger raised instinctively. Sparks flew as steel met steel. His raft rocked dangerously.
A figure emerged from the fog: black-robed, veil covering the face, eyes glowing faintly crimson. One of the Shadow Envoys.
"Give us the scroll," the voice rasped, low and inhuman. "And your death will be merciful."
Lin Feng's hands shook, but his voice came out hoarse with defiance. "Never."
The Envoy lunged again, blade slashing in arcs too fast for his eyes. Lin Feng parried clumsily, each strike forcing him backward. His arms screamed with the effort. The dagger in his hands felt too small, too fragile.
The raft lurched. Another splash behind him... then two more. Shapes rose out of the mist, stepping onto the raft without disturbing the water, cloaks dripping with shadows. Three Envoys now.
"Hopeless," one whispered.
Lin Feng's chest burned. His vision blurred. And then, he felt it again.
The scroll.
It pulsed faintly inside his satchel, each beat like a drum in his bones. The celestial diagrams burned behind his eyes, lines of light threading into constellations. The mist around him shimmered, bending.
The first Envoy struck again.. straight for his throat. Lin Feng raised the dagger. But instead of blocking, his arm moved in a strange arc, unnatural yet graceful. Steel rang out, and to his own astonishment, the Envoy's blade skittered harmlessly aside.
A whisper of starlight trailed from his hand.
The Envoys froze, their crimson eyes narrowing.
"That… is no common dagger," one murmured. "The Manual has awakened him."
Lin Feng staggered, breath ragged, staring at his own trembling hands. He hadn't known what he was doing. Something... someone... had guided his movements.
The first Envoy snarled and attacked again, faster, blades weaving like shadows. Lin Feng braced for the end.
But the mist itself shifted. For an instant, the world slowed. Constellations formed overhead, and his body moved with them. Each step, each strike, flowing as if he were part of the stars themselves.
His dagger flashed. A line of silver light tore through the air.
The Envoy staggered back, robe sliced, a thin trail of blood staining the mist.
Lin Feng gasped. He had struck a true warrior, survived his first clash.
The other Envoys hissed in unison, blades lifting. "The scroll cannot protect you forever, boy. The Sect will have your life."
Before they could close in, the sea itself roared. A sudden gust scattered the mist, and from far above, a shadow descended, a cloak billowing, a mask glinting like moonlight.
The Guardian.
His voice cut through the storm like thunder:
"Touch the boy, and you'll never see dawn again."
The Envoys hesitated. For the first time, unease flickered in their crimson eyes.
The Guardian landed silently on the raft, her blade already drawn, its edge humming with restrained fury. Mist curled around him like obedient spirits.
Lin Feng collapsed to his knees, shaking, both relieved and ashamed. The battle wasn't his to win yet. Not alone.
But deep inside, the stars whispered again. The scroll had chosen.
The raft swayed under the weight of silence.
The Guardian stood tall, cloak stirring in the mist, her mask catching the faint glow of starlight. She was slender, graceful, but the stillness in her posture radiated danger. Even the shadows seemed to hesitate at her presence.
The Shadow Envoys shifted uneasily. One rasped:
"You cannot shield him forever. The Mist Sea belongs to the Sect."
Her voice came calm and clear, every word cutting like a silver bell in winter air:
"Then let the Sect come. I will bury it in silence."
She moved.
It was not speed but inevitability. One moment she stood poised, the next the raft rang with steel. Her sword curved in a single, fluid line, scattering sparks like stars. The first Envoy reeled backward, his strike deflected with effortless grace.
The second lunged low, dagger aimed at her side. The Guardian did not even turn. Her cloak of mist spiraled outward, catching the blade like water. A flick of her wrist, snap. The dagger broke clean in two.
The third Envoy dropped from above, twin blades seeking her throat. Lin Feng's breath caught...
But she only raised her hand, sword rising in an arc so fluid it seemed preordained. Light shimmered, a crescent moon tearing through the shadows. The Envoy spun away, crashing into the water below, the sea erupting into steam.
Lin Feng could only stare. She moves like the stars themselves…
The remaining Envoys circled, crimson eyes wary now. She lowered her sword, its tip grazing the raft, her voice soft as falling snow:
"Leave. Or remain as corpses."
But Shadow Envoys never retreated. They attacked in unison, blades weaving a net of death from all directions. To Lin Feng's eyes, there was no escape.
The Guardian exhaled, almost a sigh. Her sword rose, tracing the heavens.
One stroke.
It was not speed, not strength, but inevitability itself. The blade drew a constellation through the mist, lines of light bending into a perfect pattern. The shadows split apart. The air itself trembled.
Two Envoys froze mid-strike. Then blood bloomed across their robes, dark against the mist. They crumpled soundlessly, their blades scattering into the sea.
The last Envoy staggered, trembling, crimson eyes wide. Not rage... fear.
The Guardian stepped forward, the mist curling obediently around her ankles. Her mask gleamed pale in the moonlight.
"Go," she whispered. "Tell your masters, the boy walks under my shadow. If they seek him… they will face me."
The Envoy dissolved into the mist, fleeing without a word.
Silence returned, heavy and absolute.
Lin Feng's legs gave way. He fell, dagger slipping from his fingers. His breath came ragged, his chest tight with awe and shame.
"I… I almost died," he whispered.
The Guardian turned, her steps light as drifting snow. She sheathed her sword, her masked face turned toward the fog as though still listening for enemies.
Lin Feng crawled shakily to his feet, chest heaving. His dagger trembled in his grip, though the fight was long over. "You… you saved me again." His voice cracked, hoarse from fear. "If you hadn't..."
Her voice softened, unyielding.
"You lived. That is all that matters, for now."