The Longyuan sky that afternoon was a pale blue, veiled by thin clouds.
In the courtyard of Guangming Academy, the students practiced as usual—the sounds of swords, incantations, and enthusiastic shouts echoed through the air.
But when a figure dressed in dark red stepped through the main gate, the atmosphere suddenly changed.
A few students who recognized him whispered to each other, pointing with expressions mixed with surprise and disbelief.
"Is that... Lin Xuan?" "He's still alive?" "I thought he'd been expelled from the sect!"
Lin Xuan's steps were leisurely.
He even managed a lazy wave at the two gate guards who glared at him. A heavy leather pouch filled with gold taels hung from his waist, catching the sunlight with a subtle display of wealth.
On the main steps, Han Jie nearly dropped his training manual.
"Lin Xuan!? Where—WHERE have you been!? Tutor Wei was about to send us searching all over Longyuan for you!"
Lin Xuan yawned slightly.
"Oh, that. I went home to Tianmen. Haven't visited my hometown in a while," he said lightly, as if discussing a spring holiday.
"Tianmen!?" Han Jie almost shouted. "That's in the north! You went that far without the Academy's permission!?"
Lin Xuan shrugged casually. "I actually wrote a permission letter. But... I think I forgot to send it."
Han Jie stared at him for a long time, then slapped his own forehead. "You really are...."
From a distance, Zi Yueyan walked over with Lu Qing.
Zi Yueyan, who was standing nearby, looked at him sharply, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"To Tianmen? You left without the Academy's permission. Don't you know that's a serious violation?"
Lin Xuan turned slowly, looking at her with a faint smile that only irritated Zi Yueyan more.
"Ah, about that..." he said, scratching the back of his head.
"I actually wrote a permission letter, but... I think I forgot to send it."
Han Jie was aghast. Zi Yueyan stared at him for a long time, as if she wanted to cut his throat right there.
But before she could say anything, a deep voice rang out from the main hall.
"LIN XUAN!"
Tutor Wei walked out, his face tight between relief and anger.
All the students immediately bowed, making way.
Lin Xuan just let out a small sigh, then bowed politely—half-sincere, half-joking.
"Tutor Wei. Good to see you well."
"Cut the pleasantries. Where have you been this past week?"
Lin Xuan answered unhurriedly, his voice calm.
"In Tianmen, Tutor. I just went home briefly. Haven't seen my hometown and... cleaned my parents' graves in a while."
"With whose permission?"
Lin Xuan raised an eyebrow. "I already wrote a permission letter, but... I think I forgot to send it."
A few surrounding students almost laughed, but immediately fell silent when Tutor Wei gave them a fierce look.
Lin Xuan, meanwhile, stood calmly, his eyes looking straight ahead without the slightest sign of guilt.
Yet behind that calmness, his thoughts churned:
(If they knew I killed two major fugitives in the south, they wouldn't look at me like a lazy student anymore... and that would be dangerous.)
Finally, Tutor Wei sighed heavily.
"Forget it. This time I'll assume you left for family reasons. But remember, Lin Xuan..."
He stared intensely. "If you disappear without permission again, even the light of Guangming will not guide you back."
Lin Xuan bowed deeply. "Understood, Tutor."
Han Jie whispered, "Hah, you're so lucky to escape punishment."
Lin Xuan replied without turning his head, "That's because I'm his favorite student... maybe."
Zi Yueyan gave a slight snort. "Favorite? Seriously."
But despite her firmness, her gaze still followed Lin Xuan as he walked away with a relaxed stride. Something was bothering her—the way he looked at the midday sun, the way he smiled for no reason, and... a slight scent of iron in the air every time he passed.
(He said he went to Tianmen... but why does the aura around his body feel like he just came from a battlefield?)
The thought wouldn't leave, even after Lin Xuan had disappeared behind the Academy grounds.
Meanwhile, from the main tower, Feng Zhiren stood on the balcony, watching Lin Xuan's figure walking towards his residence.
He stared for a long time, his face vaguely touched by the twilight.
"Funny," he murmured softly. "You look lazy... but your aura, Lin Xuan, feels like someone who has just killed something."
At his home, Lin Xuan closed the door slowly. He took off his robe, placed the gold pouch on the table, then looked at the sky from the small window.
The sound of evening birds was distant—calm, peaceful, and boring. But inside his chest, something was alive: a wild pulse that had not faded, the adrenaline from a recent hunt.
He gave a small laugh.
"Looks like I still have to pretend to be lazy a little longer," he muttered, then lay down on his narrow bed.
The day ended, and Lin Xuan—the laziest student—had finally returned.
But only he knew: tonight, he was not a student, and not an ordinary human.
He was just a shadow waiting for the time to hunt again.
The next day.
The evening sky over Longyuan was golden. The sunlight hit the tiled roofs and danced on the surface of the large lake to the east of the city. The ripples of the water reflected a soft glow, creating a reflection that was almost soul-soothing to anyone who saw it.
On the edge of the lake stood a simple tavern with a wooden sign featuring smoked fish. The noisy voices of the academy students who had finished practice filled the air.
At the corner table nearest the window, Lin Xuan and Han Jie sat facing each other.
The aroma of warm tea and grilled fish permeated the air. Lin Xuan sat leaning back lazily, twirling his teacup slowly with his fingertip. Han Jie, on the other hand, looked restless.
"I can't believe this," Han Jie muttered, staring sharply at his friend. "You're treating me to dinner? Usually, I have to drag you out of your house, and even then, you always say sleep is more useful than eating."
Lin Xuan smiled faintly. "It's fine once in a while. You complain too much, Han Jie."
Han Jie squinted, suspicious. "Where did you get the money, huh? Don't tell me... you sold our Academy sword?"
"No." Lin Xuan looked out the window, his voice calm. "I just returned from Tianmen. Many kind people on the journey. They gave me a little help... a gift for a long journey."
"Tianmen..." Han Jie repeated softly, his eyes narrowing. "That's your hometown, right? But... it seems too far just for a visit home."
Lin Xuan didn't answer. He just shrugged gently, then slowly sipped his tea, letting the aroma waft away with the fading evening.
A few moments passed as they waited for their order—but the atmosphere of the tavern suddenly changed. From outside, a hoarse but deep voice was heard, echoing among the people gathered in front of the tavern courtyard.
"Five years ago," the voice boomed, heavy and rhythmic, "under the sky of Tianmen burning with the fires of war, a lone figure emerged who single-handedly held back the tide of the Han army. Fifty thousand men... against one."
Han Jie turned, his face curious. "Huh? What is that?"
Lin Xuan looked out the window. Under a large willow tree, an old man stood with a wooden staff and a shabby robe. Around him, a group of people sat listening enthusiastically. Children, merchants, some academy students, and even a young monk listened in silence.
The old man continued, his voice now lower, as if sharing an old secret.
"That night, the sky of Tianmen was red like blood. The Han army attacked from the north, the fortress was half-ruined. But standing in front of the main gate was one person... wearing a red demon mask with small horns on his forehead. His sword cleaved the enemies. Black smoke emanated from his body, from which emerged a black dragon that circled in the sky. And when he raised that sword, the world seemed to stop breathing."
The crowd fell silent.
Han Jie leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. "The legend of the 'Man in the Red Demon Mask'! I've heard of it! So he really exists?"
Lin Xuan remained silent. His eyes were calm, but behind them, something trembled—faint memories of the same night, of screams, blood, and the red glow that seared his vision.
The old man continued his story softly, his voice becoming almost like a mantra.
"He was not a general, not a soldier. But only a bounty hunter. They say he came voluntarily to guard that fortress for one night. One night... and that night turned into a legend. The black dragon emerged from his body, thanks to the power of his sword, splitting the earth, and fifty thousand Han soldiers died without having time to scream."
But amidst the crowd, someone suddenly interrupted.
A young, rough voice, from the front.
"Nonsense!" the man exclaimed. "Everyone knows that General Hwang and his troops defended the Tianmen Fortress! That's the official royal record! Do you think the government would forget to record their hero?"
Some people nodded in agreement. "True, true! That story has long been refuted!"
"The Man in the Red Demon Mask is just a fairy tale!"
"How can one person fight fifty thousand!?"
The old man did not argue. He just looked at them with clear but deep eyes, like someone who had seen too much.
"I don't force you to believe," he said softly. "But I was in Tianmen at that time. I saw the scorched earth. I heard it myself from the surviving residents... that night, they saw a red light covering the sky, and a black dragon passing by. The lives of the enemies scattered like dust."
But the crowd no longer wanted to listen.
Some began to leave the spot, muttering disappointment. "Ah, just another empty story."
"Better to listen to the stories of the royal heroes."
Soon, only five people remained sitting near the old man—old faces, perhaps veterans, or people who believed more in what history did not record.
From inside the tavern, Lin Xuan stared at the old man for a long time.
His gaze was vacant, but his fingers tapped the table slowly, unconsciously.
Han Jie turned, also looking outside.
"Hey, Lin Xuan," he said softly, "you're from Tianmen, right? You must have heard this story too?"
Lin Xuan looked at his teacup for a moment, then answered in a flat, emotionless tone.
"No. I don't know anything about that masked man."
Han Jie nodded slowly, but his face held a look of wonder.
"And yet... that story seems so close to the way you sometimes speak," he said half-jokingly.
Lin Xuan did not respond.
The evening wind turned cold. The ripples on the lake slowly reflected the last orange light before the sky plunged into darkness.
Han Jie looked at his friend, then smiled slightly. "You're really strange, Lin Xuan. Sometimes I think you have a big secret you don't want to share."
Lin Xuan smiled vaguely, looking at the darkening sky. "A secret? Perhaps just things the world has long forgotten."
The small bell of the tavern tinkled softly as the two of them stood up, leaving the table with the half-finished tea.
Outside, the old man was still speaking softly to the five remaining people. His voice was faint amidst the blowing wind.
"Until now, no one knows where the Man in the Red Demon Mask went. But they say... as long as there is darkness in this world, he will never truly die."
Lin Xuan's steps paused for a moment.
He looked towards the old man—not for long, just a glance. But in that gaze, there was an unspoken recognition.
Han Jie was already walking ahead, calling out. "Come on, Lin Xuan! You're paying, don't run away!"
Lin Xuan smiled again, this time sincere but meaningful. But after that, he still stood in front of the tavern. Meanwhile, Han Jie had already gone home.
And the Longyuan sky truly plunged into night.
The night wind began to descend softly from the direction of the lake. The water reflected the light of the full moon hanging in the Longyuan sky, spreading a silver color over its surface. Under the gently swaying willow tree, the old man sat alone, his staff leaning on his lap.
Slow footsteps were heard approaching.
The old man turned—Lin Xuan came, bringing the scent of tea and the cool night air.
"A good story, elder," Lin Xuan said calmly, looking at the sky. "It's a shame... not many still want to listen."
The old man smiled, the wrinkles on his face looking soft in the moonlight. "It's alright, young man. The world only believes in heroes seen by the eyes. The rest... are forgotten."
Lin Xuan sat down next to him, watching the calm moon over the lake. "What's your name, elder?"
"People call me Yuan. Elder Yuan," he replied with a small chuckle. "I'm ninety years old, but this tongue is still fond of telling stories. I'm originally from Longyuan, but my wife was from Tianmen. Since she passed, I often come here. They say the spirits of Tianmen people like to look at the moon from the water."
Lin Xuan stared at the lake water in silence. "Coincidentally... I'm also from Tianmen," he said softly. "Now settled in Longyuan, studying at Guangming Academy."
Elder Yuan turned quickly, his eyes widening slightly. "Tianmen, you say? That place... ah. Five years ago, that's where the world changed. Since that incident, many stories turned to ash, and many truths were buried with the blood."
Lin Xuan stared at the edge of the lake, his voice almost a whisper. "What do you know about that incident, elder?"
Elder Yuan took a deep breath, looking at the sky that was beginning to be swallowed by clouds. "What the world knows... is only that General Hwang was the hero of Tianmen. He was the one who held back the 50,000 Han troops. He was the one who received the award from Emperor Qin. But..."
The old man paused for a moment, his voice lowering.
"I know, General Hwang himself never claimed it."
Lin Xuan glanced sideways. "How can you know, elder?"
Elder Yuan smiled faintly. "My wife was from Tianmen, young man. After the war, I returned there, burying our memories. The people of Tianmen told a different story—about a red masked figure who guarded the gate alone. Even General Hwang himself once came to the village grave, bowing for a long time in front of the former scorched black earth. He knew, that victory was not his."
The night wind blew, making the willow leaves sway. The sound of insects was soft amidst the silence.
"Since then," Elder Yuan continued slowly, "Emperor Qin wanted to make him his son-in-law. To marry General Hwang to his daughter, Princess Ying Yue, a woman famous for her beauty but cold heart. But General Hwang refused for unclear reasons."
Lin Xuan murmured, his voice flat. "And the Emperor wasn't angry?"
"No," replied Elder Yuan, shaking his head. "Instead, he tried to persuade him again. He even offered the princess's younger sister, Princess Lian Hua, who was gentler and had long admired General Hwang. But the General still refused. He said, 'I am unworthy of marrying royal blood for a deed that is not mine.'"
Lin Xuan looked up at the sky, tilting his head slightly. "A noble man, indeed."
Elder Yuan chuckled softly. "Yes. But that refusal made Emperor Qin uneasy. All his children were daughters, and he wanted an heir to the throne born from his own bloodline. So he began to subtly pressure General Hwang—giving him high office, noble titles, and a magnificent residence in the capital. But for some reason, Hwang continued to live simply, refusing to stay in the palace."
Elder Yuan paused for a moment, his eyes misty as he looked at the moon's reflection in the lake.
"The world sees him as a hero. But I think, he himself lives as a prisoner of an honor he never asked for."
Lin Xuan did not reply.
He just stared at the moon's reflection in the water that trembled slowly, like a memory trying to emerge but always held back at the bottom of his heart.
Elder Yuan looked at him and said softly, "You are a Tianmen person, young man. If you ever return there... send my regards to the land that once burned red. Tell them... there are still people in Longyuan who have not forgotten what truly happened that night."
Lin Xuan smiled faintly, but his eyes remained on the water. "I will convey it, Elder Yuan."
The two of them sat in silence for quite a while. The night wind blew softly, carrying distant sounds from the city—children's laughter, the sound of water, and the chirping of crickets that seemed to envelop their conversation.
Finally, Lin Xuan stood up. He bowed a small sign of respect to Elder Yuan.
"Thank you for the story, Elder. Tonight... I feel like I learned something that has been long lost."
Elder Yuan smiled, watching the young man's back slowly walking away under the moonlight. "Be careful, young man. This world prefers to forget the truth than to remember the uncomfortable."
Lin Xuan did not turn back, only waved his hand gently as he walked away.
And under the dim moonlight, his shadow stretched over the ground—the silhouette of a man who seemed to carry two faces: an ordinary student... and a legend the world tried to forget.
Lin Xuan walked away from the lakeside. Behind him, the faint sound of Elder Yuan still singing was swallowed by the chirping crickets and the rustle of leaves.
The road to Longyuan was quiet that night—lit only by small lanterns along the roadside. Every one of Lin Xuan's steps sounded clear, echoing between the old city stones.
He was not in a hurry.
"General Hwang..." he murmured slowly.
"You live as a hero because the world needs a name... but the one who should be remembered is forgotten."
He sighed lightly. In his mind, the image of Elder Yuan sitting under the willow tree still lingered—and with it, the echo of a story that felt too close to his own past.
The night deepened.
—only the sound of the night guard's shoes and the clinking of the wind shaking the lantern on the street corner. Lin Xuan walked alone through the narrow alleyway leading to his residence.
He had just passed a small stone bridge when something slapped his face gently.
Flap!
"Wh—?"
He caught the object, a worn piece of paper blown by the wind.
His brow furrowed. The writing on it was neatly and officially inscribed, with a black royal seal in the bottom corner: a coiled dragon surrounding the Xiyang symbol.
> [RECRUITMENT ANNOUNCEMENT — XIYANG ROYAL SHADOW HUNTER UNIT]
>
Issued by High Palace Official, Lord Xu Heng.
Seeking talented individuals with high combat and stealth abilities to carry out secret duties for the security of the kingdom.
Missions are highly classified, including the elimination of political targets threatening the stability of Emperor Qin's rule.
Applicants who pass the selection will receive:
— Large rewards for every mission.
— Potential promotion to palace warrior.
— Full protection from royal law for actions taken under direct palace command.
Registration location: Palace Secret Hall, North Building of Longyuan, only open during the full moon night.
Lin Xuan read to the end. His lips curled slowly—a faint smile that hadn't appeared on his face for a long time.
"Shadow Hunter...?" he murmured softly.
He looked at the dragon seal mark beneath the writing. A faint spiritual aura flowed from the ink, indicating the document was truly official—not a trick or a false invitation.
The night sky above was thinly clouded. The lanterns began to fade, and amidst the darkness, Lin Xuan's eyes reflected a faint red light.
"Killing people for politics... and being paid with royal protection?"
"Sounds... interesting."
He slowly crumpled the paper, but did not destroy it. Instead, he folded it neatly, storing it under his robe, near his chest—like keeping an old promise.
"I guess my nights won't be boring anymore," he said softly, looking at the sky.
Up there, the moon was shrouded in clouds—like a large eye peeking behind a curtain.
The night wind blew, bringing a faint sound... like the laughter of someone from the past.
Lin Xuan's smile widened slightly.
"In that case," he whispered, "perhaps it is time for the Man in the Red Demon Mask... to walk the night again."
He strode towards his house again, but now his step was different—lighter, more certain.
And behind him, the recruitment paper that was blown by the wind stuck to the wooden wall, illuminated by the moonlight that pierced through the clouds.
The following days at Guangming Academy went normally—at least in the eyes of others.
Lin Xuan was back in training, attending theory classes, and even occasionally sparring with Han Jie in the south courtyard.
To all the students, the lazy youth seemed to have changed slightly: no longer sleeping often in class, sometimes even appearing to pay attention to Tutor Wei's explanations.
But for Lin Xuan himself, all of this was just a mask—a calm routine he used to cover his true steps.
That morning, Feng Zhiren and Zi Yueyan stood together in the main training arena. Zhiren led a group of young students, while Yueyan practiced her cherry blossom technique under the plum tree. Pink petals spun softly in the air, as if dancing in the sunlight.
"Lin Xuan," Yueyan called without turning. "It's been a long time since I've seen you serious in training. It feels strange."
Lin Xuan, who was standing behind her, smiled faintly. "You don't believe I can change?"
Yueyan glanced at him, suppressing a faint smile. "No. I believe... I'm just not sure."
"A subtle difference," Lin Xuan replied flatly, making Yueyan roll her eyes, annoyed but unable to hold back a small laugh.
Feng Zhiren approached them, his sacred aura feeling gentle like the morning breeze. "Enough joking. Lin Xuan, you missed two group training sessions last week. You have to make up for it."
Lin Xuan raised his hand as if surrendering. "Alright, Master Model Student."
Zhiren just shook his head, but smiled. "You've changed, Lin Xuan. But somehow... I feel your change isn't from the training, but something else."
Lin Xuan glanced at him—a calm look, but hidden within it was something that couldn't be deciphered.
"Maybe I'm just getting bored of being lazy."
He turned, leaving the training ground. Behind him, Yueyan watched his back for a long time—a strange, inexplicable feeling made her heart beat a little faster, but she quickly turned her attention back to her sword.
That night, the Longyuan sky was deep blue.
Not far from the academy, beneath the west watchtower, there was an underground tunnel rarely known to ordinary students.
Lin Xuan entered the gap with light steps. The stone walls were damp, illuminated only by blue torches burning with a spiritual flame.
At the end of the corridor, there was a large iron door guarded by two figures in silver robes.
One of them stared sharply at Lin Xuan from behind a black mask. "Your purpose?"
Lin Xuan raised the paper without hesitation. "I came to register. I am looking for Xu Heng."
The two guards exchanged glances, then knocked on the stone door three times.
A heavy mechanical sound echoed, and the large stone wall slowly opened.
The air inside smelled of incense and iron.
Blue torches lined the walls, illuminating a spacious room with a black dragon emblem carved on the floor.
In the middle of the room stood a man in his forties, dressed in a faded gray robe with a black belt ornamented with dragons. His face was covered by a metal mask in the shape of a dragon's head—he was Xu Heng, the Head of the Imperial Shadow Unit.
"Name," his voice echoed softly, yet authoritative.
"Lin Xuan," he answered briefly.
Xu Heng looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to read his thoughts from his breathing.
Finally, he said, "You... don't seem like someone seeking honor, Lin Xuan."
Lin Xuan smirked. "I'm just looking for a job that isn't boring."
Xu Heng was silent for a moment, then pressed something on the stone table in front of him.
A golden light flared, forming a rotating golden dragon seal in the air.
"Listen carefully," Xu Heng said. "This unit has only been re-established after a long time.
No one has dared to sign a contract with the Imperial shadow yet—everyone is afraid of dying without a name.
If you sign this... you will become the First Shadow.
There is no honor, no grave, no history to record you.
But every drop of blood you spill... will change the course of the Empire's politics."
Lin Xuan stared at the seal for a long time.
"First Shadow, huh..."
He stepped forward, placing his right hand on the seal.
As his skin touched the light, a stinging heat pierced his skin—burning but calm, like a fire recognizing its owner.
The seal adhered to the back of his hand, forming a pattern of a black dragon that slowly rotated, alive as if breathing.
Xu Heng nodded with satisfaction.
"Starting tonight, you are no longer just Lin Xuan, a student of Guangming Academy. You are Shadow 1, the hidden hand of the Xiyang throne.
Every order comes directly from the palace, and I am the only one who connects you to Emperor Qin."
Lin Xuan nodded slowly. "Understood."
Xu Heng walked closer, his voice lowering.
"You will receive your first mission on the full moon night. The target has not yet been announced, but... it will be a test to determine if you are truly worthy of holding the title of First Shadow."
Lin Xuan looked at his hand, which was now marked with the golden dragon seal.
The blue light from the torches danced in his dim eyes, like two embers waiting to be ignited.
"I await the night," he said softly. "Shadows need no light."
Xu Heng looked at him for a moment—either admiration or dread.
"Welcome to the darkness, Shadow 1."
As soon as Lin Xuan stepped out of the stone corridor, the night air of Longyuan felt different—quieter, thicker, as if the world knew his new secret.
He looked at the palm of his hand. The golden dragon seal pulsed softly, in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"Shadow 1," he muttered quietly.
"I prefer to call it... freedom."
He took a deep breath, then looked at the Guangming Academy tower in the distance—the place where he had to return to his role as a lazy student during the day.
While the night, from this moment on, belonged entirely to him.
Quiet Morning at Guangming Academy
The Longyuan sun rose softly behind the white glass tower of Guangming Academy.
Golden light pierced the pine trees and danced in the training courtyard, where hundreds of students were already lined up, their spiritual swords reflecting the light.
Amidst the hustle and bustle, Lin Xuan walked leisurely with a small yawn.
His training clothes were wrinkled, his hair a little messy—his typical appearance that made the other students stare with a look of surprise mixed with annoyance.
No one knew that beneath his training robe, on the back of his right hand, the golden dragon seal still pulsed softly beneath a white bandage.
"Lin Xuan!"
A sharp voice called from the field. Zi Yueyan, in a light silver training outfit and a pink sash around her waist, stood with her arms crossed. Her long black hair swayed in the morning breeze, her eyes sharp like a sword.
"You finally showed up. I thought you would skip again."
Lin Xuan raised an eyebrow, bowing slightly with a flat smile.
"Relax, today I'm actually enthusiastic about getting advice from Tutor Wei."
As he walked past, Zi Yueyan glanced at his bandaged hand.
"Your wound hasn't healed?" she asked.
Lin Xuan stopped briefly, looked at his bandage, then smiled faintly.
"Ah... this? Just a small wound, got hit by a bamboo sword during private practice."
Yueyan did not answer, but the look in her eyes was clear: she didn't entirely believe him.
She then turned, letting Lin Xuan walk towards the stands.
Training Session
"All students, pair up!"
Tutor Wei announced in a firm voice from the middle of the field.
Cheers filled the field—the sound of clashing metal, spiritual energy exploding, and sword light flashing in the air.
Meanwhile, Lin Xuan leaned against a pillar, observing from afar, while looking at his right hand.
As if reminding him of the two worlds he now had to live in:
the lazy student by day... and the First Shadow of the Xiyang Empire by night.