Black Mask stood in the blood-soaked chamber, his clothes torn and barely hanging from his frame. Wounds crisscrossed his body—deep gashes, bruises blooming across his limbs, and burn marks lacing his arms. His mask, once a symbol of cold menace, now hung cracked and broken, revealing half of his face. Jagged scars ran from his cheekbone to his neck, twisted and raw, yet even so, he looked no older than eighteen or nineteen.
Despite his battered state, his grip was firm—unyielding—as he held Madam Qu by the hair, forcing her to her knees. Blood dripped from her lips, her eye swollen shut, her sword long lost.
"P-please… please, don't—" she stammered, voice hoarse and trembling. "I have wealth—techniques! Hidden ones! Rare ones! I—I can give them to you—"
He looked down at her, dark eyes devoid of mercy, and laughed—harsh, cold, empty.
"If they were that rare…" he muttered, dragging her head back to expose her face, "then you should've used them to survive."
And then—crack.
His fist came down like a hammer.
Her skull caved in with a sickening crunch, blood and fragments of bone spraying outwards. Her body twitched violently once, then went limp in a puddle of brain matter and shattered bone. He let her corpse drop, the sound of her lifeless body hitting the floor echoing off the cave walls.
Not far away, the girl with the daggers lay slumped against a rock. Her body was battered—arms bruised, ribs cracked, blood seeping from cuts all over her body. But she was still breathing, barely. Her mouth was bloodied, one tooth missing, but her eyes burned with hatred.
"F-father… Father will hunt you down…" she hissed, coughing blood. "He'll skin you alive, you damned traitor! You and that half-mute bastard! I hope—I HOPE YOU DIE A PAINFUL DEATH! I hope your skin peels while you're still breathing! I hope your guts rot in your belly! I HOPE YOU—"
Slice.
A clean arc of his blade silenced her fury.
Her head rolled from her shoulders and thudded against the ground. Her body, still twitching from the last of her defiance, finally collapsed in silence.
Black Mask exhaled and wiped the blood from his blade, his expression cold and calm. "This took longer than expected," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Tch… I still don't have a way to track that bastard."
His gaze drifted toward the darkness beyond the battle. "But it doesn't matter. He'll expose himself sooner or later. I know who this inheritance belonged to… and once he uses even a sliver of its power, I'll find him."
A smirk tugged at his lips. "It's good I didn't tell them anything. Let him think he got away clean. He doesn't know I recognized what he took. I'll get it back… one way or another."
He looked at the remains of his enemies, now just corpses staining the ground red. "I should've killed him before entering the cave. Underestimated him… that won't happen again."
He began gathering what he could—burning what he didn't need. With fire and ice, he erased the signs of battle, watching the flames devour the corpses and the rocky walls collapse inward. Soon, the entire cave began to crumble. No one would find this place for a long time.
Emerging from the hidden entrance, he took a deep breath of cold air. The sky was dark, distant thunder rumbling in the far-off clouds.
He started walking.
"Should I go to the Far Lands?" he muttered. "Dangerous… but full of opportunity. No. Not yet."
His eyes narrowed.
"The empire's been weak lately. The sects too. If their eyes are on the Far Lands… that means the rest of the map is open for someone like me."
At the mention of the empire, something twisted in his expression. Hatred. Deep, venomous, and old.
"They've ruined my plans before… but not again. I'll steal, I'll kill, I'll burn everything they hold dear while they chase empty glory"
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe.
"One day," he whispered.
Again.
"One day…"
A promise of a quiet storm waiting to be unbleached.
In the morning, Lin Shu returned to the institute. The dried blood was long gone, replaced by fresh robes and the calm, cold air that always surrounded him. His wounds had been tended to, though the faint aches beneath his skin reminded him of how close he'd come to death.
He walked into the Quest Hall in silence, accepted his pay and the mission rewards without saying much, and then turned away. The attendant handed him a note, informing him that due to the unexpectedly prolonged and dangerous nature of the mission, he'd be granted a two-week break. No missions would be assigned until then.
"I should rest," Lin Shu muttered as he left. "And maybe I'll go around and gather some news about what happened while I was gone."
By the time his head hit the pillow, he was already half-asleep.
---
Noon came, and Lin Shu stepped into the market square of the institute. The area was alive with voices, the scent of roasted meat and inked scrolls thick in the air. He made his way to Xu Jin's shop, hoping to buy some information discreetly.
Closed.
He stared at the locked door, brows furrowing slightly. "Unfortunate."
He stood there for a moment, thinking.
"Maybe I should go to that guy Xu Jin kept calling a weirdo…"
He turned from the shop, heading into the back alleys of the market. The man's name wasn't important—it was ordinary, forgettable even. Wen Ping. No clan, no backing. A loner who survived by selling secrets. Xu Jin always said he was crazy, said he stalked people just to figure out what they were hiding,it was as if that knowledge gave him a weird feeling of satisfaction. But he had been the one to tell Xu Jin that Han Yi was looking into lightning technique users… so he might be useful now.
"I have to know if anything suspicious happened while I was gone," Lin Shu thought, weaving through the crowd. "Those people are definitely trying to find me. And Han Yi… she's involved. She must be. And if she is, her master probably is too."
But he couldn't be obvious. No direct questions. He'd have to ask in circles, keep his name out of it.
He also wanted to know the results of the tournament. Who placed where. Who was chosen for the Azure Crystal Mine expedition team. That would tell him which threats had grown stronger… and which had vanished.
He ducked into a narrow street, eyes scanning for Wen Ping's usual spot. A broken stall beneath a red lantern, covered in strange sigils and mismatched scrolls. If anyone knew what rumors had been swirling while he was gone—it would be that weird bastard.
Lin Shu walked toward Wen Ping's usual haunt, taking slow, careful steps. The market noises faded as he entered the narrow alley. There, under the shade of a red lantern, sat the man himself—crouched low to the ground, muttering inaudibly as he fiddled with a stack of scrolls, most of which looked half-burnt or soaked through.
"You're Wen Ping, if I'm correct?" Lin Shu said, eyes narrowing.
Wen Ping slowly lifted his head. His brown eyes were dull, yet oddly sharp at the same time. Long, disheveled black hair fell past his shoulders, an eye patch strapped over his left eye. Scars crisscrossed his face, and one jagged wound curved around the back of his skull—like a mark left behind after something important had been cracked open.
"That explains a lot," Lin Shu thought coldly, "That scar must've taken something from him…"
Wen Ping blinked at him, then sniffed.
"…And who might you be?" he asked, voice slow and dry, as if dragging each word up from a well.
"A nobody who wants to buy information." Lin Shu tossed a pouch forward.
The moment the clink of gold hit the floor, Wen Ping's muttering stopped. He snatched the pouch greedily, sniffed it—then, bizarrely, held it to his ear and shook it gently. After a pause, he smiled. "Mm. Honest weight."
Without warning, he scrambled up and yanked over two mismatched chairs—one a stool, the other half a bench—and gestured grandly. "Please, sit, sit. Let's discuss the unspoken."
Lin Shu sat down without a word.
"So, what is it that you wish to know, dear, precious customer?" Wen Ping asked, leaning in too close.
"I've been away. I want to know everything that happened in the past month—public and private."
"Hmmm." Wen Ping scratched his neck and tilted his head, eyes flickering. "Where should I start, where should I—Ah! The tournament, yes, yes, yes. That's the only thing worth breathing over. A real slaughterhouse! Art! Blood!"
He suddenly burst into laughter, hands flailing, nearly knocking over his scroll pile. "A war, I tell you! You missed true art! Ha—ha—ha!"
"Just tell me what happened." Lin Shu's voice cut through like a blade.
Wen Ping blinked rapidly, nodded, and sat straighter. "Right. Of course. Details. Hm. Well—yes, the tournament. All the rising stars, they showed up. Xie Lang. Zeng Shiyang. Yun Qiu. Wei Jian. Ren Hao. And... the brightest sun—Han Yi."
His tone shifted into something oddly reverent.
"Old students, new monsters… they all came. The battles—brutal. Bloody. When Zeng Shiyang and Xie Lang played, bones snapped like twigs."
"And who won?" Lin Shu asked flatly.
"Draw. Zeng and Han Yi. Glorious tie. Yun Qiu came second. Xie Lang third. Ren Hao and Wei Jian fought for scraps below that." Wen Ping's hands gestured like he was drawing scenes in the air.
But then he kept talking. And kept talking. About who used too much footwork, who cheated with pills, who wore what color robe—none of it relevant. Lin Shu narrowed his eyes.
"Did anything strange happen?" he cut in.
Wen Ping suddenly went quiet. Then, slowly, he rubbed his temples. "Mmm… yes. Maybe. Han Yi looked… serious. Too serious. During every fight. Fought lightning users, only lightning users. And the further she went, the more angry she looked. Like a kettle, just about to screech…"
He gave Lin Shu a sidelong glance. One too calculated to be random.
Lin Shu knew the game.
"What do you mean?" he asked, voice neutral.
"Ohhh, it's just a theory," Wen Ping said, tone dismissive, flicking his wrist like a bird flapping. "Baseless. Cracked thinking. Shouldn't worry yourself…"
Lin Shu pulled out another pouch of gold and tossed it down.
Wen Ping smiled, wide and jagged. "Ah… music to the soul."
He leaned in closer again, his breath oddly minty. "She's looking for someone. Yes. I noticed the pattern. Because I watch. I see. She stalks them—lightning users. Every last one in this institute, she's observed. Some more than once. And every one she fought in the tournament? Lightning."
He tapped his temple.
"And I know, she got angry because none of them were who she wanted. The whole thing—it was bait. A stage. The tournament, hah, it was never about skill. It was about drawing him out. The one she's searching for."
"She's searching for someone?" Lin Shu asked, feigning confusion.
"Mm-hm. I was watching her. Of course I was. That's what I do. People pay for her secrets, you know? But I noticed it—this obsession. And I'm not the only one. Other informants, too. She's not subtle anymore. Rash. Rushed. Desperate."
Wen Ping chuckled low. "I think the tournament was a net. The rewards? Just bait. The dean helped her—or someone did. To flush out this ghost she's chasing."
He looked directly at Lin Shu.
"And if I find him? I'll sell him to her. Like a nice fat rabbit in a cage. Heh. Others are trying too. So if you hear anything—anything—come to me. We split the reward. Yes?"
Lin Shu gave him a slow, cold grin. "That sounds like a deal. But I wonder… what did that person even do to get so many people hunting him?"
"Who knows? Maybe he pissed her off. Or maybe…" Wen Ping raised his finger dramatically, "maybe he stole something precious. Either way… he's worth gold. No one would go to such lengths otherwise."
"But wouldn't he already have left?" Lin Shu asked, voice low. "If informants like you and others figured her out, wouldn't he, too?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps. But would you abandon such a treasure if you had it?" Wen Ping cackled, his head tilting sharply. "Greed is a chain, my friend. Heavy and tight."
Lin Shu nodded slightly, then stayed for a little longer, asking more scattered questions—names, sightings, changes in personnel. But nothing stirred him the way Han Yi's pursuit did.
When he finally left and walked back to his home, his expression was no longer smiling.
His face was stone.
"I think it's just a matter of time before I'm caught. Should I just leave the institute?" he muttered as he shut the door behind him.
"They're looking too hard. And it has to be them—the ones from the auction. The ones I sold the Infernoheart Salamander King's egg to. Han Yi… she's involved. And maybe her master too."
He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes cold.
"There's a chance it's all a coincidence. A mistake. But I won't take that chance. Not in a million years. I won't leave my fate to luck."
His hand clenched.
He had decisions to make.
And very little time to make them.