Han Yu stood still as the marsh wind howled through the broken mangroves, his chest rising and falling heavily.
The stench of stagnant water mixed with the coppery tang of blood in the air, yet his heart felt strangely calm. The despair that had crushed him moments ago had vanished, burned away by a single, blazing emotion... rage.
He could see the black-robed cultivator stepping through the shallow pools, each step rippling the surface like the tread of a predator. The man's sword, long and thin, glistened faintly with dark energy, a line of crimson running along its edge like living blood.
Han Yu clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked. He knew he was already locked in by the man's spiritual sense. There would be no escape now. To run would only invite a slash through his back.
So, he decided not to run.
He would fight.
'I'll show them.'
