The journey east took seven days and seven nights.
Lin Feng left the forests behind and entered the mountain range known as the Whispering Peaks — a place where wind itself spoke.
Each gust carried echoes of voices long gone, fragments of forgotten cultivators who perished here chasing immortality.
The peaks were sharp and endless, their shadows falling like blades across the valleys. Mist swirled between them, shimmering faintly with spiritual light.
To any ordinary traveler, it was a graveyard.
To Lin Feng, it was a sanctuary.
He climbed steadily, the Wandering Spirit Gourd swaying at his side. The energy around him was dense here, thicker and purer than the land below. Every breath he took refined his qi further.
The land remembers blood, Jin Jue murmured. Many died here chasing the Dao of the Heavens. Their residue feeds the air.
And their greed still lingers, Mo Xuan growled. Be ready. Where qi gathers, hunters follow.
Lin Feng nodded. "Then let them come. I need the practice."
By dusk, he reached a cliff overlooking the valley below.
Far beneath him shimmered a vast sect city — towers carved into cliffsides, banners fluttering crimson and gold in the wind.
The Scarlet Veil Sect.
Unlike the Crimson Moon Sect, the Scarlet Veil thrived not on philosophy or enlightenment, but conquest.
They trained assassins and battle cultivators, selling their strength to noble families and empires.
Lin Feng had heard rumors of them — ruthless, disciplined, and united under one leader: Sect Master Yue Qiuhan, a woman whose cultivation was said to surpass the heavens of the lower realms.
He watched the city lights flicker below. Somewhere in that labyrinth of towers, the next step of his journey awaited.
Meanwhile, deep within the sect's grand hall, a council gathered.
A red-robed woman sat on the throne of jade and flame. Her hair was long as night, eyes cold as still water.
Before her knelt a dozen elders, each exuding power that could shatter mountains.
"Reports from the west," one elder said, bowing low. "A battle erupted near the Crimson Moon Sect. One of their disciples — Lin Feng — defeated Li Yun publicly and vanished."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Defeated Li Yun? The Frost Blade prodigy?"
"Yes, Sect Master. The witnesses say his power was… unnatural. Three different qi signatures detected. He may have acquired a forbidden technique."
A faint smile touched her lips. "Interesting. A cultivator who merges chaos and survives."
She leaned back, tapping her finger against the throne arm.
"Send our shadow hunters. I want him found — alive. If he can merge energies, he may hold the key to surpassing the Eleven Realms."
The elders bowed. "As you command, Sect Master Yue."
Far above, Lin Feng felt the faintest shift in the wind.
The kind of silence that hides intent.
Predators moving in the shadows.
He looked toward the valley again. Torches flickered below as figures began moving along the paths — swift, silent, and coordinated.
"So," he murmured. "The hunt begins."
You can still turn back, Jin Jue warned. Their assassins kill before shadows touch the ground.
Or you can see what they're made of, Mo Xuan suggested, amusement rumbling in his tone.
Lin Feng smiled slightly. "Let's see which of us bleeds first."
Night descended like a veil. The moon hung pale over the peaks.
Lin Feng moved deeper into the mountains, his senses stretched wide. Every sound, every flicker of movement in the mist, became part of his rhythm.
Then — a whisper.
The faint scrape of metal on stone.
He turned just as a blade shimmered toward his throat.
His gourd swung up — clang! — sparks burst as steel met spirit-forged bronze. He twisted, using the momentum to kick the attacker back into the mist.
Another shadow lunged from behind. Lin Feng ducked low, qi pulsing through his leg as he swept the attacker off their feet.
The air filled with sharp, controlled grunts — trained killers, coordinated.
"Scarlet Veil assassins," he muttered. "Efficient."
They don't waste breath, Jin Jue said. Only blood.
The mist glowed faintly as their blades began to hum with crimson inscriptions — formation runes linked to one another.
"Formation type: Silent Web," Lin Feng recognized instantly. "Tch. Annoying."
He planted the gourd into the ground and poured qi into it.
Golden vapor erupted outward, spreading like wildfire, colliding with their crimson aura.
The mist lit up, swirling in storms of gold and red. Energy roared between the peaks, shaking loose stones from the cliffs.
One assassin broke formation, rushing forward. Lin Feng's palm met their chest — a pulse of beast qi blasted through their ribs.
Another leaped from above; Lin Feng spun, catching them mid-air and slamming them into the rock face.
The third, the leader, moved differently — silent as wind, blade curved like a crescent moon. Their aura flickered, unpredictable.
A real threat.
Their first clash shattered the surrounding mist. The leader's strikes were flawless — every cut a whisper of death. Lin Feng could barely react in time, gourd deflecting with sparks and vibration.
Each impact sent pain rippling up his arm.
This one's beyond the rest, Jin Jue warned. Mid-Heaven Vein cultivator.
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed. "Perfect."
He stepped back, inhaling sharply — and unleashed the Third Breath.
His aura surged. Lightning burst from his skin in golden streaks, crackling through the air.
When the leader struck again, Lin Feng's fist met the blade head-on — lightning exploded outward, shattering the sword in half.
The force sent the assassin crashing backward into a boulder.
Lin Feng walked forward, his expression calm. "Tell your Sect Master — if she wants to meet me, she can come herself."
He turned, cloak whipping in the wind as the surviving assassins vanished into the mist, dragging their unconscious leader with them.
When the night finally quieted, Lin Feng stood alone among the broken rocks, lightning still dancing faintly around his form.
He looked down at his hands. The qi there was sharper now — faster, cleaner. Each battle refined it further, forcing chaos into order.
You're inviting death, Jin Jue muttered.
You're inviting destiny, Mo Xuan corrected.
Lin Feng looked toward the valley lights below.
"I'll take both," he said.
Then he disappeared into the mountains, leaving behind only echoes — and the whisper of the wind calling his name.