The second assassin never reached the mountain.
He died screaming.
The Hawk Clan did not hear it.
The mountain did not feel it.
But the sky did.
—
The assassin was faster than the first.
No illusion silk.
No concealment spells.
This one wore bone-light armor carved with Black Talon Dominion sigils, each etched to suppress spiritual detection. His wings were narrow, built for speed, not combat. His eyes were cold, empty.
A suicide operative.
He cleared the outer patrol line in six breaths.
Seven—
A shadow fell over him.
Not from above.
From nowhere.
The wind stopped.
Not hesitated.
Stopped.
The assassin's wings faltered mid-beat.
He twisted, blade already drawn—
And froze.
A hand was around his throat.
Not gripping.
Resting.
Behind him stood a figure wrapped in black.
Not fabric.
Night.
Tall. Barefoot. Long hair flowing like liquid ink. Crimson markings pulsed faintly beneath pale skin, spreading from collarbone to wrist like cracks in porcelain.
Eyes like burning coals opened.
The assassin tried to speak.
He couldn't.
The hand tightened slightly.
Not enough to crush.
Enough to remind.
"Black Talon," the figure said softly.
His voice was almost bored.
"You don't learn."
The assassin forced breath through collapsing lungs. "Who—"
The figure leaned closer.
"Someone who has not finished his hunt."
Recognition flickered.
Then terror.
"…Demon—"
The hand snapped shut.
The assassin's body imploded inward with a sickening crunch, ribs collapsing like paper. Blood sprayed outward but never touched the ground—burning away into black ash midair.
The body dropped.
The Demon Lord watched it fall.
Then he lifted his hand.
The ash reversed direction.
Flowed upward.
Reassembled into a small, perfect sphere.
He crushed it.
The Dominion tracking sigils embedded in the assassin's bones shattered instantly.
"Mine," he murmured.
—
Deep within Black Talon Dominion territory—
Three high-tier operatives preparing for departure convulsed simultaneously.
Their chests exploded outward from within.
Not by blade.
Not by force.
By command.
The masked Dominion leader stood slowly from his throne.
"…He's awake."
A thin crack appeared across the obsidian floor.
—
Back at the mountain.
Feng Lihan was already airborne before the wind shifted.
He felt it.
Not Dominion.
Older.
Darker.
Intent layered beneath restraint.
He reached the western ridge.
And stopped.
The Demon Lord stood at the edge of the cliff as if he had always belonged there.
Looking at the horizon.
At the mountain.
At the chamber where Lin Yue slept.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
The wind did not dare move between them.
Feng Lihan's wings spread slowly, red feathers catching moonlight like drawn blades.
"You," he said.
The Demon Lord tilted his head slightly.
Recognition.
Amusement.
"Red Hawk."
His gaze slid past him.
Toward the mountain interior.
"Still alive."
"You shouldn't be," Feng Lihan replied evenly.
The Demon Lord smiled faintly.
"I was inconvenienced."
The air around him rippled—dark pressure folding space subtly inward.
Feng Lihan did not retreat.
"Why are you here?"
A pause.
Then:
"To protect my kill."
Silence sharpened.
Feng Lihan's eyes went cold.
"You will not touch them."
The Demon Lord finally looked at him directly.
"I already did."
The words dropped like stones.
The temperature plunged.
Feng Lihan moved first.
He vanished.
Reappeared above.
Wings slicing downward in a flaming arc meant to cleave through a mountain.
The Demon Lord did not move.
The strike landed—
And split the cliff in half.
But not him.
He dissolved into black mist, reforming behind Feng Lihan mid-air.
A palm struck Feng Lihan's back.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
The shockwave detonated outward, blowing clouds apart in a ring.
Feng Lihan twisted, slamming elbow backward, catching the Demon Lord across the jaw.
This time—
Impact.
The Demon Lord's head snapped slightly to the side.
He blinked.
Then laughed softly.
"Better."
They collided again.
Claw against claw.
Feather against shadow.
Every impact cracked the sky.
Below, Lin Yue bolted upright in bed.
The chick shrieked.
Mo Shan was already moving toward the outer ridge when a shockwave split the night.
"What in heaven's name—"
Outside, warriors could not approach.
The air itself rejected them.
Above the mountain, red and black tore at each other in violent spirals.
Feng Lihan drove forward with relentless precision, each strike measured, lethal, controlled.
The Demon Lord fought differently.
Casual.
Evaluating.
He caught Feng Lihan's wrist mid-strike.
Held it.
Crimson markings flared brighter.
"Your child," he said quietly over the roar of wind, "has my scent in its blood."
Feng Lihan's pupils narrowed.
Rage flared.
He tore free, wings igniting brighter than before.
"You will explain."
"I will," the Demon Lord said calmly.
"When I decide whether to kill it."
The mountain groaned.
Inside the chamber, golden light began to leak from beneath the door.
The chick's eyes opened fully.
Not half-lidded.
Not instinctual.
Aware.
On the ridge, the Demon Lord's smile faded slightly.
"…Ah."
He felt it.
The Sky-Child looking back.
Not afraid.
Claiming.
The Demon Lord released Feng Lihan abruptly and stepped backward into the air.
He did not fall.
He stood on nothing.
"This is not tonight's war," he said.
Feng Lihan did not lower his guard.
"You don't get to choose that."
The Demon Lord's gaze flickered once more toward the chamber.
Interest.
Possession.
Something darker.
"I already have."
He began to dissolve into shadow.
"Tell Lin Yue," he added softly, voice echoing in the wind,
"That debts return."
Then he vanished.
The sky snapped back into motion.
Silence crashed down over the mountain.
Feng Lihan remained suspended in air for three breaths.
Four.
Then he dropped to the ridge and ran.
Inside—
Lin Yue stood in the chamber doorway, chick clutched tightly to his chest.
Golden eyes stared outward.
Unblinking.
Feng Lihan reached him.
"…He's back," Lin Yue whispered.
"Yes."
The chick made a small sound.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Feng Lihan looked toward the horizon.
Jaw set.
"Seal the mountain."
Mo Shan arrived seconds later, face pale.
"That wasn't Dominion."
"No," Feng Lihan said quietly.
"It was something worse."
Far away, walking across nothing but night—
The Demon Lord touched the faint gold burn still lingering across his palm.
And smiled.
"The sky remembers me."