The moon was a pale sickle, hanging low like the blade of an assassin's knife. The alleys of Luoyang were drowned in silence, except for the occasional drip of water from the roof tiles and the faint rustle of the wind through empty courtyards.
Yue Ying—black-clad and faceless under the hood—moved like a shadow slipping between shadows. Her heartbeat was steady, her breath shallow. Tonight's target was the northern official's residence—a man whispered to have ties to the massacre of her parents. The doors were barred, the walls patrolled, yet she melted into the darkness like mist seeping through She never knew this was a trap.
She thought she was invisible. She thought her footsteps were swallowed by the night.
She thought wrong.
Somewhere in the darkness, another shadow watched. Silent. Patient. Like a wolf stalking prey. From the rooftop, Hei Lang crouched in wait, his bronze mask catching a glint of moonlight. His sharp, unreadable eyes followed the lone figure slipping through the courtyard — Yue Ying.
Hei Lang.
The legendary "Black Wolf" feared by every corrupt official in the empire. The Executioner. His reputation was a mix of awe and dread—whispered tales of him leaping from rooftops, cutting down men without a sound, vanishing before their bodies hit the ground. Not even the Emperor knew his face.Every soldier barrack and tea house talked about the dark legend.
And tonight, the Black Wolf was hunting.
Yue Ying slipped into the residence through the rear wall, her hands barely brushing the tiles. She landed noiselessly in the courtyard, eyes sweeping left and right before gliding towards the study. Her mind was fixed on the scrolls she believed would prove the official's guilt.
She did not feel the air shift behind her.
She did not see the faint glint of steel in the moonlight.
She only felt it—the sudden icy kiss of a blade pressed against the side of her neck.
Her body froze.
A deep voice—low, dangerous, with the calmness of one who had ended lives without hesitation—spoke behind her.
"You move well… for a rat sneaking in another man's den. You just took the bait."
The man in front of him—no, the boy, Hei Lang thought—froze, only his breath betraying the sudden spike of tension. A faint hitch, quickly masked.
"So… you're Hei Lang. You are real.." The words were steady, but Hei Lang caught the faintest tremor beneath them.
Her breath hitched. The pressure of the sword was precise—not a cut yet, but the promise of one.
Slowly, she turned her head enough to see him.
And her blood ran cold.
He stood cloaked in black, a wolf-shaped mask of midnight covering his face, but it was his eyes—those haunting, deep blue eyes—that struck her harder than the blade. They burned with an intensity that felt as though they could strip her soul bare.
Hei Lang.
The name alone could make corrupt ministers tremble. The hero of the people… the executioner of the wicked.
The man she had secretly admired for his cause… and feared for his mercilessness.
"I don't want to hurt you," she lied smoothly, her voice pitched lower to maintain her disguise. "Step aside, this is not your affair."
A faint smirk ghosted under his mask.
"Not my affair? The moment you crossed these walls, it became mine."
He didn't lunge. He didn't rush. He simply moved, a predator circling prey. The moonlight caught the edge of his sword, a silver arc as it hovered.
Yue Ying's muscles coiled. She pushed off the ground, spinning away from the blade, her own twin daggers flashing free.
Steel clashed against steel, sparks dancing in the dark. Yue Ying's movements were quick, agile — darting strikes aimed at vital points, feints that could fool even seasoned fighters. But Hei Lang was on another plane entirely, crushing — his sword was an extension of his extraordinary skill, each strike carrying the weight of deadly precision.
The courtyard erupted in the sharp clash of metal, the air ringing with each strike. He was fast—too fast. Every time she blocked, his next blow came before she could reset. His style was lethal efficiency almost inhuman; hers was quick, darting evasion.
She realized within seconds: he wasn't just stronger. He was ten times stronger.
Every attack numbed her arms. Every dodge brought the wind of his blade dangerously close to her .She was literally fighting for survival.
I can't beat him…
But retreat wasn't an option—not yet.
He shifted, faster now, pressing her into the corner of the courtyard. His strikes were measured, never overextending—testing her, learning her patterns. His eyes never left hers, as if reading her very thoughts.
"You're fast little boy," he said between blows, "but not good enough."
She grit her teeth, spinning low to slice at his side—but he caught her wrist mid-motion, twisting sharply. Pain shot up her arm, and before she could pull back—
Slash.
A shallow but deep-burning cut opened along her wrist. Warm blood trickling down her pale skin.
Her grip faltered.
Hei Lang moved to finish it—
And she vanished.
A puff of smoke exploded between them, stinging his eyes. While it lingered, she was gone—nothing but the faint scent of herbs and the echo of her footsteps vanishing over the wall.
When it cleared, Hei Lang stood still staring at where she had been, the moonlight silvering his black-clad figure. He looked at the smear of blood on his blade, his gaze thoughtful.
"Interesting," he murmured to himself. "The first man in years to challenge me… and last this long."
He sheathed his sword slowly.
"Yue Ying…" he murmured the name like a puzzle.
Next time, Hei Lang vowed silently, there would be no escape. For now,It was time to return back to the palace to resume his official role of the crown prince Li Yuyan . His identity as Hei Lang was a secret hidden from the world.
Everyone said Yue Ying was dangerous—a vigilante who struck officials without trial. Hei Lang had sworn to end him before he harmed an innocent. But this… this opponent…
Fast. Clever. Skilled.
His toughest fight yet.
Yet even at his fastest, he knew—if he had truly wanted to kill him, Yue Ying would be a corpse in the courtyard right now.
And yet… he had let him go.
In the distance, Yue Ying clutched her bleeding wrist, leaping across rooftops with her vision swimming. Her mind replayed the fight—his speed, his precision, those eyes.
She had faced dozens of skilled fighters before. None had ever made her feel so utterly outmatched.
And worst of all—
She now knew the truth.
Hei Lang was real.
Hei Lang was terrifying.
And if she ever crossed his path again… she might not walk away.