Qinghe City rests on the bank of a tributary of the Dahe River, its waters glimmering beneath the morning sun.
South of the walls stretches the dock, where boats crowd like restless beasts, carrying grain, timber, and people to and from the great river.
The city itself rises in two rings.
The outer city is a rough sprawl of narrow streets and slanting roofs, home to the poor, the labourers, and the endless chatter of its market stalls.
Beyond it stands the inner city, larger and stronger, where tall gates and paved roads lead to the estates of the three great families, the mansions of officials, and the offices of government.
At its heart lies the magistrate mansion, square and imposing, its high hall a place of power.
Now, within the magistrate's large chamber, a meeting unfolds. Seated at the head is Magistrate Zhen Kai, his expression carved from stone.
To his side sits the demon hunter, Star Envoy Liu Kong, and across from him, Ji Lianhua, her gaze steady.
Before them, a golden envoy of the Demon Hunter Association stands and speaks, reporting the findings of the Wang Xing case, his words carrying the weight of revelation.
The golden envoy's voice is steady, but each word lands like iron on stone.
"The feathers we recovered at the site do not match the crow demon nesting on the cliff across the Dahe River. Those belong to an ordinary beast. The feathers here… they carry the aura of a Demon Refining realm demon."
A ripple passes through the chamber.
Liu Kong leans forward, eyes narrowing. "Then what were the Blood Hunt bandits doing there?" His tone is sharp, but his question carries more suspicion than surprise.
Ji Lianhua's posture stiffens, her hands tightening in her lap as she leans closer, her whole body listening.
Magistrate Zhen Kai lowers his gaze, a sheen of sweat forming at his temple.
His thoughts gnaw at him like rats in the dark.
*Damn that bastard. He told me the inspector was coming, but never that he was from the Wang family. Had I known, I would never have sent the Blood Hunt dogs after him. May his tongue rot.*
He forces his expression to remain calm, but his fingers clench beneath the table.
The envoy continues, his words cutting through the silence. "We conclude that the Blood Hunt bandits ambushed Inspector Wang Xing. But something—someone—wiped them out afterwards. None of the corpses of their four leaders remains. Nor Inspector Wang Xing. Nor Gu Mu."
The room sinks into heavy silence. Ji Lianhua's breath hitches, her face pale as her body trembles. "No corpse… no grave… no murderer to answer for it." Her voice cracks, grief pressing in like an ocean with no shore.
Liu Kong's eyes soften as he turns toward her. His words come slowly, firm, a lifeline cast across despair. "Madam Wang… I believe Wang Xing is still alive."
The chamber holds its breath, the air thick with disbelief and a spark of fragile hope.
On the cliff, Kaelan sits cross-legged, his form steady as stone.
Days have passed, and both the Iron Body and Hide magic powers bend to his will.
He has driven them to proficiency, woven them into his foundation, yet now progress slows like a river meeting rock.
The gains are smaller, the effort greater.
His eyes narrow. It is time to step onto a sharper edge. He closes his eyes and draws forth the memory of the Fierce Flame magic power.
Heat seems to flicker in his mind, the phantom of fire whispering its destructive secrets.
Back in Qinghe City, Magistrate Zhen Kai sits alone in his office, worry gnawing through his composure. His fingers drum the desk, his breath uneven. *If they dig deeper… if they learn the truth…*
"Magistrate, why are you so worried?"
The voice slithers out of nowhere.
Zhen Kai's soul nearly jumps from his body.
He jolts from his chair with a scream, his knees slamming against the table, splintering it in two. He whirls, palm flashing forward in desperate attack—
—but an iron grip snaps around his wrist, stopping the strike mid-swing.
His eyes widen in terror.
The grip holds him firm, the unseen presence close, its voice calm yet edged like steel. "Do not struggle, Mr Zhen Kai."
Zhen Kai freezes, chest heaving. Slowly, he steadies his breath, forcing composure. "Who are you… And what do you want from me?"
The voice chuckles softly. "It doesn't matter who I am. And I don't want anything from you. I've come to help you."
Zhen Kai's mind races, every thought a dagger, searching for the intruder's intent. "I don't think I need any help."
"Are you sure?" The chuckle deepens.
Zhen Kai's heart sinks, sweat trailing his brow. *What does it know?*
The voice presses, smooth and merciless. "Do you think Ji Lianhua and the Demon Hunter Association don't suspect you?"
Zhen Kai grits his teeth. "You can check yourself. There will be no clue tying me to the Blood Hunt Bandits."
"Perhaps not in evidence. But do you believe all your subordinates are loyal? That not a single one will sell you out? The Demon Hunter Association may wait for proof… but Ji Lianhua? She is a grieving mother. Grief sharpens into vengeance."
Zhen Kai falters. The voice is right. His breath shudders. "Then… your solution?"
"Kill them."
Zhen Kai stiffens, blood draining from his face. "Are you mad? Liu Kong is an Ultimate Realm martial artist."
"You won't need to fight them," the voice says, unshaken. "You need only lead them to the crow demon cliff."
Zhen Kai falls silent.
"This is your only chance to save yourself," the voice presses, low and certain.
"You want them to clash with the crow demon… and then you will kill the winner," Zhen Kai mutters, realisation dawning.
"You're smart," the voice replies smoothly. "Do this, and afterwards I will reward you with the crow demon's heart blood. With it, you will break through to the Great Master Realm."
Zhen Kai's heart pounds, the promise thundering through his thoughts. *The Great Master Realm… strength, rank, years added to my life…* Temptation seizes him. Slowly, he nods. "I will do it."
"Good."
The grip releases. Pain lances through his skull, and he falters, clutching his head. When he finally turns, there is nothing. Only shadows.
…
On the cliff, Kaelan sits cross-legged, flame patterns running through his mind.
Slowly, he grasps the edges of the Fierce Flame magic power, its principles merging with his own spells.
He adjusts the spell matrices of Fireball and Fire Claw, sharpening them, forging them fiercer, deadlier.
Immersed, he dives back into comprehension, the phantom roar of fire surrounding his spirit. He is so engrossed in the swell of strength that he does not hear the footsteps below.
Only after repeated calls—Chen Qi's firm voice and Chen Wei's urgent tone—does he stir from meditation. His eyes open, fire flickering in their depths.
Before him, Chen Wei kneels, antidote ingredients in hand.
Kaelan's gaze sweeps over the bundle of herbs, minerals, and the vial of sheep's blood.
Without a word, he rises, walks to the edge of the slope, and with one swift strike of his claw cuts down a thick tree.
The trunk thuds against the earth.
With careful motions, he hollows it out, shaping it into a deep, crude pot.
He carries it back, sets it above his palm, and channels his strength.
Water drawn from the Dahe River swirls into the pot, half-filling it, surface rippling under the weight of his energy.
Kaelan lifts his other hand, and a conjured fire blooms in his grasp.
The flames lick steadily beneath the pot, his spirit adjusting every flicker, every surge, paying close attention to the wood's groans, preventing cracks from spreading under the strain of heat.
When the water boils, he begins.
With precise movements, he adds each herb, mineral, and at last the sheep's blood. His spirit controls the sequence, balancing heat and flow.
Steam thickens, carrying with it a bitter tang.
Kaelan stirs with his energy alone, guiding the mixture through every transformation.
Finally, the dark brew settles, its aura sharp with curative power.
The antidote is complete.
Chen Qi and Chen Wei watch in silence, awe in their eyes. To them, the act seems less like alchemy and more like sorcery.
Kaelan cuts from the same trunk, crafting two smooth bowls.
He pours the antidote, splitting it evenly, and hands both to Chen Qi.
His tone is firm, his eyes indifferent. "Feed them. And keep them locked up."
Chen Qi bows and withdraws with the bowls.
Kaelan's gaze shifts to Chen Wei. The youth's wounds have already knitted, vitality returned, yet in his spirit lingers unease. Kaelan steps closer. "Are you ready?"
Chen Wei straightens, his jaw tightening, eyes burning with determination. "Yes."
"Then start."
Chen Wei lowers himself to the ground, folding his legs, settling into a cross-legged stance upon the cliff.
The river's wind sweeps past them, carrying faint traces of deathly energy, as Kaelan watches, eyes calm, waiting.