The mission was simple.
That was the first problem.
Escort a resource convoy to a distant outpost. No hostile territory listed. No known threats. Just distance, time, routine.
Lin Mo read the assignment twice.
Then once more.
This was where people died.
They left before dawn. Seven disciples. One outer elder. Cloud beasts circling lazily above, their shadows sliding across the road like slow-moving stains.
Lin Mo walked near the back.
He spoke to no one.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
The first arrow made no sound.
It passed cleanly through the elder's throat.
Blood sprayed—then froze in midair as a defensive formation triggered a breath too late.
The elder collapsed.
Dead before he hit the ground.
"Ambush!" someone shouted.
Spiritual pressure crashed down, sudden and crushing. Figures emerged from the mist ahead and behind, black-robed, masked, movements precise.
Not bandits.
These people weren't here to rob.
They were here to erase.
Lin Mo moved instantly, breaking formation, sliding behind a jagged rock outcrop as techniques detonated across the road. Fire. Metal. Distorted air screaming under pressure.
So this was it.
The sect's answer.
If he survived, he proved loyalty.
If he died—
—then uncertainty was removed.
Lin Mo exhaled slowly.
Then I'll die correctly.
A scream cut off mid-sound.
One of the disciples dropped without a wound. No blood. No damage.
Just a body.
The soul had been torn out.
Lin Mo felt his teeth grind together.
Soul cultivators.
Of course.
He stepped back into the chaos.
A blade swung for another disciple's spine. Lin Mo intercepted it, sparks flaring as weapons collided. His counterstrike bit into the attacker's shoulder—
—and another enemy slammed into his side.
Pain tore through him.
Something black and sharp punched through his defenses and stabbed straight into his soul.
A needle.
He staggered.
Blood filled his mouth, warm and metallic.
Lin Mo drove his weapon forward blindly, feeling it slide into a throat. The masked cultivator gurgled and fell.
Someone cut his leg out from under him.
The ground rushed up.
Above him, a figure raised a hand.
Qi spiraled inward, compressing, condensing—not aimed at flesh.
At him.
At the thing underneath.
Lin Mo laughed weakly.
"So this is it."
The technique landed.
There was no explosion.
No light.
Just pain.
His vision fractured. Thoughts slipped apart. Something deep inside him was peeled open and scraped raw.
He felt himself coming undone.
Lin Mo screamed.
And then—
Silence.
SYSTEM ACTIVATION
Darkness receded.
The mirror floated before him, cracked further now, its light unsteady, like a failing heartbeat.
His soul burned.
Every fragment screamed.
Death RegisteredCause: Partial Soul DestructionSoul Damage: SevereCompatibility: Decreasing
Lin Mo dropped to one knee, clutching his chest.
This was different.
Worse.
The pain didn't fade. It stayed. Anchored.
Options surfaced.
▸ Mid-Grade Spirit Stones ×312▸ Soul-Refining Fragment (Incomplete)▸ Falling Cloud Sect Core Technique: Mist Severing Art
His vision swam.
Techniques could be taken again.
Resources could be stolen again.
A damaged soul—
—that was harder.
"I choose," he rasped, "the soul fragment."
The mirror pulsed.
Confirmed.Returning.
He woke choking.
Air slammed into his lungs. His body convulsed violently, nerves screaming as sensation returned all at once. He rolled off the bed and hit the floor.
Hard.
Cold.
Dust stuck to his face.
The faint hum of electricity buzzed in the walls.
Earth.
He lay there for a long moment, gasping, waiting for his heart to slow.
The mirror lay nearby, dimmer than before. More cracks. Less light.
Lin Mo pushed himself up.
Pain followed every movement.
The soul damage had come with him.
He laughed hoarsely.
"Of course."
The room was small. Cheap. Flickering light. His phone buzzed weakly on the table with unread notifications from a life that felt distant.
Normal.
But when he closed his eyes—
—he felt it.
A thread.
Thin. Fragile.
Spiritual energy.
Barely there.
But real.
Lin Mo sat down slowly.
Falling Cloud Sect was gone.
That life was finished.
And yet—
He was stronger than when he had entered it.
"They think Earth is safe," he murmured.
He picked up the mirror. It still responded to his touch, despite the damage.
"No spiritual energy," he said quietly. "No cultivators watching."
Rare.
Dangerous.
He smiled.
For the first time in a long while.
"Then this is where I prepare."