The mountains east of the Verdant Moon Sect were shrouded in a thick fog that clung to the treetops like smoke.
Shadow crouched beneath the overhang of a moss-covered boulder, cloaked in silence. His robes had been dulled with dust and dirt to match the forest, his breath steady and controlled. Even the birds didn't seem to notice him.
For hours, he had stalked a group of men dressed in mismatched armor and cloaks—bandits, reported to be hiding out in these hills. But these weren't ordinary mountain thieves.
Not with cultivation like this.
Four men sat near a small fire in a hidden cave just a few paces below Shadow's perch. One of them stood slightly apart from the others—taller, broader, with a heavy blade strapped to his back. His aura pulsed with solid pressure.
Foundation Building Realm, Fourth Level.
He was the vice-captain of the group.
The other three were Third Level Foundation cultivators, gathered around the fire with nervous energy, eating jerky and discussing something in hushed tones.
Shadow didn't move. He memorized every twitch of their fingers, every pattern in their behavior. He counted each breath between sentences and studied how their eyes darted when they spoke.
"The plan's already in motion," one of them whispered. "The caravan passes the southern ridge in two days."
"And they'll have spirit stones. A lot of them," another added.
"Not just stones. A disciple of the Green Spear Sect is escorting them," said the third. "If we take him down, we'll gain a name."
The vice-captain grunted, spitting to the side.
"A name's useless if you're dead. That kid's is an outer door disciple."
"So what? The captain said the boss has it handled."
"The boss…" the vice-captain said slowly, "is not here, is he?"
Shadow narrowed his eyes.
"A caravan with heavy spirit stone cargo. A Core disciple escort. These aren't bandits—they're preparing for a coordinated assault on sect resources."
"I need to find their boss."
A memory flickered in his mind—Elder Yan's voice, firm but kind:
"Never fight to prove your worth, Shadow. Fight when your heart tells you the moment is right."
He whispered to himself:
"This is the moment."
Just then, the third bandit stood and walked a few paces away from the fire, relieving himself against a tree.
Shadow's chance.
He descended the rocks like a ghost, feet barely brushing the surface. In a single breath, he stood behind the man, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his rusted sword.
He spoke softly.
"Your stance is too exposed."
The bandit turned, startled—but too late.
Ssshrip—!
A flash of light.
A gasp.
A clean cut across the throat.
The bandit dropped instantly, gurgling once before collapsing silently into the leaves.
The others jumped to their feet.
"Enemy! What the—!"
They saw him then—Shadow, standing calmly in the firelight, his blade still wet with blood, eyes cold and focused.
"You—!" the second bandit shouted and immediately launched forward, a spear forming from Qi in his hand.
The third bandit followed from the opposite side, swinging a twin-bladed saber in a rising arc.
"Stone Fang Art!"
"Bladed Wind Cutter!"
Twin martial arts surged through the cave—blades of wind and rock streaking through the air.
But Shadow was already moving.
He stepped inside the arc of the saber, ducking low. The gust of the Wind Cutter passed over his head, slicing tree bark.
Then he spun, using the Leaf Dance Step technique—redirecting his weight mid-motion—and slid behind the spearman.
"You lead too much with your right leg."
His blade lashed upward in a tight, coiled flash.
A line of red bloomed across the man's ribs.
The spearman screamed and dropped to his knees.
The saber-user tried to react—but Shadow's movement was fluid now. A twist, a pivot, and he slid beneath the swing again, slamming the back of his elbow into the man's gut.
The saber flew from his grip.
Shadow's sword struck once more—across the back of the neck.
Crack.
The man crumpled.
Two more down.
The cave fell silent… for a moment.
Then, slow applause.
The vice-captain stepped forward from the shadows, unslinging his massive blade from his back.
"You killed them all without using a single martial art. Just speed, timing… and a rusty sword."
His grin was full of cruelty.
"I like that. But now it's my turn."
His spiritual energy exploded outward—thick and oppressive, like a wave of heat from a kiln.
"Falling Fang Slash!"
He dashed forward with surprising speed, his blade covered in jagged Qi.
Shadow raised his weapon to block—but at the last moment twisted his body sideways and deflected the blow just enough to avoid a full clash.
The ground behind him split from the pressure.
He spun back, slashing horizontally, but the vice-captain blocked easily and kicked out—Shadow barely dodged, leaping backwards onto a higher stone.
"You're fast," the vice-captain said, breathing harder now. "But that's it. That art of yours... it's not made for drawn-out fights, is it?"
"It doesn't need to be," Shadow replied.
He blurred again, circling behind.
The vice-captain turned too slow.
Shadow's blade hovered at the side of his neck.
"I could kill you."
Silence.
The vice-captain growled, but did not move.
"But I have questions," Shadow said, voice calm. "About the caravan. And your captain."
"Why should I tell you anything?"
Shadow leaned closer, blade brushing skin.
"Because if I kill you now, you'll never see how your little plan fails."
"But if you talk… I'll let you crawl away."
The man gritted his teeth.
"The caravan will be ambushed at Crescent Hollow… two days from now."
"Our boss will be there. Along with the rest of the group."
"Name."
"…Duan Xie."
Shadow narrowed his eyes.
That name…
He pulled the sword back.
The vice-captain dropped to his knees, panting.
"If you lie," Shadow said coldly, "I'll find you."
And then he disappeared into the dark.
The man breathed a sigh of relief and said "I need to find the bos....." But before he finished his wards he found his head rolling on the ground".
Shadow started at him "I am a Sin against the heaven why should I keep my promise"