By the hand of Yan Lihua, outer disciple of the Twin Serpent Sect
I've lived in Twin Serpent Sect for eleven years.
Not brilliant, not trash. Mid-tier talent, mid-tier luck, mid-tier clan background. I reached Qi Foundation at thirteen, Spirit Core by sixteen.
Respectable. Stable.
I've seen geniuses come and go. Sword prodigies. Fireblooded princes. One girl even summoned a Phoenix egg during her bloodline awakening.
But none of them felt like him.
None of them felt like the boy with the wooden sword and blank eyes.
He came during open trials. Nothing special — ragged robe, hollow stare, feet bare.
He looked like he'd wandered out of a famine.
The Qi stones didn't react. The bloodline mirror shattered when he touched it. And the soulstone… turned black.
Master Du nearly kicked him out on the spot, called him a walking curse.
But he simply said: "I'll pass the combat trial."
No arrogance. No pleading. Just a statement.
I remember thinking: He'll be crushed in the first exchange.
But then…
The combat ring is engraved with formation lines. It glows when attacks land, helps measure speed and impact for fair ranking.
He faced Outer Disciple Yao Jie. Mid-Spirit Core. Known for "Nine Flame Palms."
I expected him to be thrown out of the ring in two moves.
Instead, he stepped forward… and mirrored Yao's entire form.
Not the technique. The stance. The breathing. The slight shoulder tilt that only someone from Yao's clan knows.
He didn't block Yao's flames.
He used them against him.
I still hear Yao Jie's scream in my sleep.
No blood. No visible wound. Just collapse — like something inside him had been rewritten.
I thought, Maybe a fluke. Maybe he copied a technique he saw once.
But then he fought three more.
A sword cultivator from the Crimson Edge Hall — her blade shattered before she could draw.
A dual-spirit user — both spirits turned on their master mid-fight.
And Jiang Wen, a lightning-step prodigy — his legs broke the moment he used his art.
The boy never changed expression.
I cornered a records keeper. Asked who he was.
No family. No origin scroll. Entered from the southern ashlands — a cursed region even beasts avoid.
He gave a name: Wu Ye.
That night, I followed him to his assigned quarters. I kept my presence hidden. I've hunted silent beasts in frozen forests. I know how to move unseen.
But when I looked again… he was gone.
And then—
He was behind me.
He didn't raise a weapon. Just looked.
That was worse.
In that instant, I saw every technique I knew — and every flaw in them. I felt my soul unraveling as if it no longer belonged to me.
Then he said, calmly:
"You watched me. Now I will watch you."
And walked away.
I haven't slept in two days.
Every shadow feels wrong.
My Qi refuses to circulate properly. Techniques I've practiced for years fail under pressure — like someone is holding the memory of them hostage.
They say he's talentless.
They say he's harmless.
But I've seen true monsters in the inner sect.
And Wu Ye?He's not a monster.
He's the thing monsters run from.