The sun had barely risen over the distant peaks when Shadow returned to his residence. The quiet courtyard, now familiar and filled with recent memories, greeted him with silence.
He moved quickly.
His first task was to secure the one secret that mattered most—**Han Yuelin**.
She was still recovering within the hidden thunder-forged coffin. Her aura remained sealed, undetectable to outsiders, but Shadow knew better than to trust silence alone.
He knelt at the center of the room and etched out a **five-layered sealing array**, crafted from spirit chalk and lined with threads of lightning Qi. Once activated, the array would block all spiritual sense from entering or leaving the chamber. It would also retaliate violently against forced entry.
> "That should hold," he whispered.
He stepped back and looked toward the sealed chamber with a faint sense of unease. He didn't want to leave. But he had to. If he wanted to rise any further, he needed more power, more understanding—and more danger.
---
Shadow departed before noon, taking the narrow southern path that led toward the lowlands.
Three days of travel lay ahead.
His destination: **Mourning Wind City**—a fortified settlement that had recently come under siege by the **Purple Devil Sect**, a notorious demonic group whose cruelty spread faster than wildfire. The sect had made it a sport to massacre innocents, devour spiritual roots, and desecrate ancestral grounds.
But Shadow's reasons for traveling weren't just noble.
> "I need power," he said aloud, walking alone beneath the rustling canopy. "Real power. And danger sharpens strength."
Mourning Wind City was known as a city-state governed by the Empire's territorial system. It held the **status of a city**, comparable in strength to a **third-rate sect**.
Within the larger structure of the cultivation world, **cities** functioned like **sect satellites**, protecting local populations and providing entry-level cultivation resources. Above them were **countries**, which operated on the level of **second-rate sects**, and **kingdoms**, equivalent to **first-rate sects**.
And towering above all of them was the **Great Empire** itself—a central ruling power that governed kingdoms, sects, and cities alike with divine authority. Few dared to defy it. Fewer still survived such defiance.
The Verdant Moon Sect served this empire.
And so did Shadow.
At least, for now.
But the truth was, ever since his clash with the Sect Master and his narrow acquisition of core status, he no longer felt safe within the sect's walls.
> "I've made enemies. I stood too tall too quickly. I need distance—and blood—to grow."
His journey was calm the first two days. He traveled lightly, keeping to shaded paths and sleeping atop trees, avoiding attention.
But on the **third day**, things changed.
As he passed through a canyon carved between two ancient cliffs, wind whispering down the stone walls like a warning, he paused.
Something felt wrong.
It was too quiet.
The birds had vanished.
Even the rustle of leaves had gone still.
The air felt heavier, like it was holding its breath.
Shadow slowed his steps, instinct guiding him. He scanned the cliff walls, his Qi subtly pulsing outward.
Nothing.
Still—he didn't trust it.
He took another step—then stopped.
A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye.
He twisted his body sharply—**just in time**.
A whisper of steel passed by his cheek, slicing cleanly through the air. It nicked his skin. A thin line of blood formed instantly.
From the canyon's shadows, a cloaked figure emerged. No words. No hesitation. Just killing intent.
> **A third-layer cultivator of the Muscle and Skin Forging Realm.**
Shadow's eyes widened. His heartbeat spiked.
> "A third-layer? Already? This fast?!"
His breath caught in his throat.
The assassin had been *that* close. Despite Shadow's sharpened senses, despite the thunder-aligned vigilance within him, he hadn't seen or sensed a thing.
A chill ran down his spine. He wasn't facing an ordinary killer. This was someone trained in assassination arts. Someone who had cultivated **stealth**, **precision**, and **instantaneous lethality** to an art form.
His hand dropped to his sword.
He didn't wait.
Lightning surged beneath his feet as he activated Thunder Step and leapt back, narrowly avoiding a second strike aimed for his neck. The air hissed as the blade passed.
The assassin pursued, step for step, closing the distance like a shadow stretching in moonlight. Each movement was precise, brutal, efficient.
Shadow parried one blow, then another, but each impact jarred his bones. His opponent's strength was overwhelming.
> "I'm not stronger than him," Shadow realized grimly. "Not yet."
His blood pounded in his ears.
The assassin didn't speak. He didn't taunt. He just moved with the certainty of death.
Shadow ducked beneath a slash and countered with a burst of lightning-infused force. His blade caught the assassin's shoulder—but barely. The assassin twisted, absorbing the hit with skin already tempered like armor.
A small cut. That was all.
> "Steel-hardened skin... he's already mid-tier in muscle forging. Damn."
Fear surged in his gut.
But he didn't run.
He let the fear sharpen him.
Another attack came. Shadow blocked it with his blade, spinning to the side and hurling a bolt of lightning from his free hand. It crackled against the canyon wall—but the assassin had already vanished from its path.
> "So they're already coming for me," he muttered between ragged breaths. "The Sect Master… or the Ren Family?"
It didn't matter.
This was war.
He leapt to higher ground, gaining distance, but the assassin followed, fluid like a serpent across the cliff wall. Shadow landed on a rock outcrop, skidding to a halt, and turned—barely deflecting a third thrust that sent him tumbling.
He hit the ground hard.
His ribs screamed.
Blood stained his robes.
But his eyes still burned.
> "This fight is no longer about survival," Shadow thought. "It's about message. I won't die. Not here. Not now."
He rose slowly, blade in hand.
A breeze passed between them.
The assassin's cloak shifted.
They faced each other.
Shadow's heart pounded. His hands trembled. But he didn't break.
He smiled.
> "You picked the wrong target, shadow."
Lightning surged.
The canyon was about to become a battlefield.
And as blood began to spill onto the cracked earth, Shadow realized:
His new journey had truly begun.
And it started with death at his heels.
---
**End of Chapter 79 – Blades in the Canyon Shadow**