The First Shadow's Night
The Longyuan sky that night was gray—starless, with only a half-moon hanging like a silver sword blade.
The sound of light rain dripped from the tile roofs onto the stone streets.
In the heart of the sleeping city, a figure walked silently in the shadows, his red and black clothes blending into the darkness of the night.
The night wind rustled, bringing the soft clinking of small chains.
Under the moonlight, the red horned mask reappeared.
The face of the "Man in the Red Demon Mask"—a legend considered a myth across the land—was alive again.
But this time, he was not guarding a fortress, nor saving a village.
He came by the Empire's command.
Lin Xuan stood on an ancient stone roof, gazing at the open command scroll in his hand.
The black ink writing was firm and cold.
"First Target: Li Sheng. Mid-level palace official involved with the opposition faction. Location: West District, private residence.
Status: Immediate elimination.
Code: Leave no witness."
His hand slowly crumpled the paper, then released it into the air.
The paper burned without fire—disappearing into thin black smoke.
"Li Sheng..." he muttered, looking toward the tower of the West District.
"My first official job."
He stepped lightly, almost silently, moving from one rooftop to another.
His movements were so precise—the result of years of practicing survival in the Tianmen forest, hunting demons and men in equal measure.
West District of Longyuan
Li Sheng's large house stood magnificently by the riverbank.
Lanterns hung on every pillar, guards patrolled the outer courtyard.
But Lin Xuan did not approach from the front—he waited by a large willow tree in the back, where the river water rippled softly.
In that silence, he closed his eyes for a moment.
A black aura began to creep from his body. The thick smoke formed a vortex, and then the faint shape of a horned demon emerged behind him—silent yet authoritative.
The Domain of the Horned Demon (魔角之域 – Mójiǎo zhī Yù)
"Dark world... return to your master."
Lin Xuan's voice was almost inaudible.
The demon bowed—then disappeared, merging with the shadows on the ground.
An instant later, all the lanterns in Li Sheng's courtyard went out simultaneously.
The guards fell silent, then shouted in panic.
But before any of them could raise their weapons, a chilling cold enveloped them.
Lin Xuan emerged from the mist—his steps were slow, but every movement was like a whip cutting through the air.
One strike, one fall.
He did not kill everyone.
Some merely fainted, silenced in the dark illusion he created with the "Demon Realm Boundary" (Jie Mo Jing).
"Sleep now. You don't want to see your master's end."
The voice was heard inside the guards' heads, making them tremble and fall limp.
Lin Xuan continued walking inside, until he finally reached the main chamber.
Official Li Sheng sat behind a large wooden table, his face tense but trying to remain calm.
He had heard rumors of the Imperial Shadow—the official assassin sent directly by Emperor Qin to silence political opponents.
But he didn't expect the figure... to wear a red demon mask.
"So... the rumors are true," Li Sheng said slowly. "The Empire calls upon a demon to do its dirty work."
Lin Xuan did not reply.
He just stared through the slits of his mask, a faint red glow emanating from behind his eyes.
"I am only doing my duty," he said flatly. "And my duty ends here."
Li Sheng gave a bitter laugh. "You think killing me will erase the truth? Emperor Qin is insane... sacrificing anyone for his power."
Lin Xuan slowly drew his sword, Yanlong.
A red light trembled on the blade—the faint sound of a dragon roaring in the distance.
"The truth?"
Lin Xuan's tone was cold. "I stopped believing that word coming out of a filthy mouth like yours a long time ago."
He moved. Just a flash—one swift movement like a shadow passing before the eyes.
The next moment, Li Sheng had fallen onto the table, his blood dripping, but his face remained intact—eyes open, as if not yet realizing his death.
Lin Xuan sheathed his sword again.
No expression. No pride.
Just silence and the remainder of the night's breath closing back in.
Outside, the wind blew softly.
The black mist from his body slowly dissipated.
Lin Xuan stood on the edge of the roof, looking up at the half-moon in the sky.
"Imperial Shadow, huh?" he said softly. "It seems I can never escape the darkness."
He leaped down, his shadow dissolving into the night.
And for the first time since the incident at Tianmen fortress five years ago—
The "Man in the Red Demon Mask" was truly alive again.
Night after night passed under the gray Longyuan sky.
In the city's dark streets, the sound of the night gong often stopped suddenly—followed by a scream that was only heard once, then vanished.
Some guards found the corpses of minor officials the next morning—some bloodless, some burned from within, others found sitting upright in their chairs with their eyes wide open... as if terrified of something invisible.
But no one knew who the perpetrator was.
Behind the Gates of the Xiyang Palace
In the towering marble hall, five high-ranking officials sat in a circle under the light of red lanterns.
They spoke in low voices, but every word carried weight.
"Five officials have disappeared in the past month," said the Minister of the Interior, his brow furrowed. "All of them were listed in Emperor Qin's inspection ledger. That cannot be a coincidence."
"Do you think it's the Emperor's new policy?" countered the Minister of Law. "I hear whispers... they say the Imperial Shadow Hunter Unit has begun to move."
That voice made all heads lower.
The unit—a secret project newly sanctioned two months ago by Emperor Qin's personal command.
Led by Xu Heng, who was formerly the head of military strategy.
Its goal was simple yet ruthless: cleanse the empire of traitors, corrupt officials, and agents of the Han Kingdom.
No army. No trial.
Only one executioner.
On the other side of the hall, a newly appointed young official whispered, his voice trembling.
"But who... who is carrying out the execution? Doesn't only Xu Heng know?"
The Minister of Law looked around, then bowed his head.
"Rumors on the streets... say the one who kills them wears a red demon mask."
Some officials flinched. The lanterns swayed in the wind, their shadows dancing on the walls.
"Don't be ridiculous!" interrupted the Minister of Military, trying to maintain authority. "The Man in the Red Demon Mask is just a legend from Tianmen! A folktale!"
"But..." one of the guards whispered softly from outside the room. "But I saw it myself, Sir. On the roof of Master Li Sheng's house that night... a red figure with a sword that shimmered like fire. I—I can't forget those eyes..."
All eyes turned to him.
Silence swallowed the room.
The Head of Shadows, Xu Heng, who had been sitting silently at the end of the table, finally spoke—his voice deep and heavy like a stone rolled into a ravine.
"Enough."
Everyone immediately fell silent.
Xu Heng slowly rose. His face was hard to read behind the black half-mask he wore—the symbol of the shadow unit head.
He looked at the lantern, his voice calm but chilling to the bone.
"The Emperor doesn't need legends. Only results matter.
Whoever is guilty... will be cut out by the root."
He walked out without looking back, his footsteps echoing long.
But before the door closed, he added one soft sentence—a sentence that made their blood freeze.
"And if you are afraid of that red shadow... perhaps you are on the wrong side."
— Whispers in Longyuan
In the Longyuan market, stories about the mysterious assassin began to spread.
Merchants whispered among piles of cloth and spices.
"They say he appears every half-moon night..."
"He doesn't speak, just appears, and when he passes, the lanterns extinguish themselves."
"Some say it's a demon spirit from Tianmen. Others say it's Emperor Qin's secret warrior..."
Some believed. Some laughed.
But one thing was certain: every time news of a new official's death spread, residents began closing their doors earlier, and the Longyuan night became quieter than usual.
Morning at Guangming Academy began as usual.
The sky was clear, the stone courtyard reflected the sunlight, and the sound of clashing weapons came from the eastern training area. The students practiced their techniques with enthusiasm—as if the world outside the academy walls was truly peaceful.
Amidst the crowd, one young man seemed unaffected by the hustle.
Lin Xuan.
He leaned against an old plum tree with his eyes half-closed, his right hand holding a piece of dry bread, and beside him, Han Jie looked on with a frustrated expression.
"Seriously, Lin Xuan... morning practice is only once a week, and you're still not participating?" complained Han Jie, wiping his sweat.
Lin Xuan opened one eye, smiling faintly.
"Why practice when the result is the same?" he answered lazily. "I don't like disturbing the balance of nature with my sword."
"A ridiculous excuse," Han Jie muttered. "You'll remain the weakest student if you keep this up."
From a distance, Zi Yueyan had just finished training with Feng Zhiren. Her long black hair swayed gently in the morning light, and her every movement looked both fluid and sharp.
She turned briefly, seeing Lin Xuan as usual sitting comfortably under the tree—his face expressionless, as if he didn't care about anything.
"He doesn't even try," Zi Yueyan murmured softly.
Feng Zhiren, standing beside her, smiled lightly.
"Let him be. Not everyone is made to chase ranks. After all... the Academy also needs someone to make us feel more diligent."
Zi Yueyan rolled her eyes. "Your sarcasm is getting subtler, Zhiren."
"It's not sarcasm," he replied calmly. "It's just... I find something intriguing about him."
Zi Yueyan glanced at him, then shook her head. "Intriguing? He's just lazy. There's nothing interesting about someone without a goal."
Meanwhile, Lin Xuan slowly opened his eyes, as if he heard their conversation despite the distance.
He smiled faintly, almost imperceptibly.
"A goal, huh..." he muttered softly. "I already have one. It's just not for you all."
A slight time jump—the sun climbed high, practice ended, and the academy atmosphere returned to calm. Lin Xuan walked casually down the corridor with his hands behind his head, as if there were no important matters in the world.
But within him, the world was changing.
Xiyang Palace – Golden Dragon Hall
Meanwhile, deep in the heart of the capital, in the main hall of the imperial palace, the scent of incense filled the air. The walls were decorated with the golden dragon emblem—the symbol of Emperor Qin's power, the absolute ruler of the Xiyang Kingdom.
Xu Heng knelt in the center of the hall. In front of him, Emperor Qin sat on the black, dragon-carved throne, wearing a gold robe with sharp, calculating eyes.
"Your Majesty," Xu Heng spoke in a low but steady voice, "the five names on the first list have been settled.
Two died instantly, the other three surrendered before judgment."
Emperor Qin stared at him for a long time. His gaze was cold, but there was faint satisfaction in it.
"Good. This world has been polluted for too long by traitors and criminals wearing the uniform of officials."
He slowly rose from the throne, stepped down one step, then looked closely at Xu Heng.
"What about the shadow? Your executioner?"
Xu Heng bowed slightly. "As efficient as ever, Your Majesty. Leaving no trace, causing no unrest."
"Good," the Emperor sighed. "However, do not let his name spread. I do not want the people to consider this murder... this is a cleansing."
Xu Heng bowed deeply. "I understand, Your Majesty."
Emperor Qin walked towards the large window overlooking the palace garden.
The Longyuan sky outside looked soft red, and a flock of black birds flew past the palace tower.
"Xu Heng," he said softly. "You know I don't trust many people. But if this cleansing succeeds, Xiyang will become the strongest kingdom in the south. No more Han hands touching my palace."
Xu Heng was silent for a moment, then said calmly, "And if those hands are among the nobles themselves, Your Majesty?"
Emperor Qin turned slowly. His sharp eyes now looked straight at Xu Heng.
"Then," he said coldly, "make sure your shadow knows what to do. And once again ensure that no one knows who your chief executioner is. Let the shadow remain a shadow."
Xu Heng bowed. "As Your Majesty wills."
But even the Emperor himself didn't know—that executioner, the First Shadow of the Empire, was not a palace warrior, but someone living among the students of the sacred Guangming Academy.
Someone named Lin Xuan.
Emperor Qin looked back out the window, his voice now softer—as if speaking to himself.
"This kingdom was built by blood... and will stand by blood as well."
However, behind the glittering night sky of the Xiyang palace, there was a place even the Emperor's eyes couldn't penetrate—
The Valley of a Thousand Shadows (Qianying Gu), a secret headquarters far north of the frozen mountain range, bordering the Han Kingdom territory.
Inside a large cave adorned with blood-red lanterns, a man sat on his throne.
His body was sturdy, his face stern, his hair long and black with a few strands of silver at the tips.
His eyes—a pair of sharp silver eyes like a wolf's in the snow.
His name was Mo Cangwu, a former Xiyang general who betrayed and was now the most dangerous Han agent within the country.
He stared at the bamboo screen in front of him, which displayed a map of the Longyuan region. Red dots glowed in several districts—where corrupt officials were found dead.
"So the Emperor really is using that unit," he muttered flatly.
"The royal shadow hunters... have begun to move."
In front of him stood a woman wearing a half-mask, kneeling respectfully.
"Yes, Commander. Our informant in the palace says all assassination orders are sent directly from the hand of Xu Heng, the head of the shadow unit."
Mo Cangwu closed his eyes for a moment.
"Xu Heng... Emperor Qin's loyal puppet."
He opened his eyes again, his gaze cold.
"If the Emperor has a Shadow to eliminate his political opponents, then we will send a darkness to swallow them."
The woman raised her face slightly. "And who is the first target, Commander?"
Mo Cangwu stood up, his black robe swaying gently.
"Find out who their chief executioner is.
I want to know... who is this 'shadow killer' who is so loyal in spilling blood for the Emperor. If he is human—then he can die."
Outside the hall, Xu Heng walked slowly along the long corridor of the Xiyang palace. In his hand, he clutched a small scroll—a new list of the next targets.
At the top of the list:
"Minister of Finance: Shen Yuan. Suspected and known to have sold economic secrets to the Han Kingdom."
But beneath it, there was a small note in the Emperor's own handwriting:
> "Use the First Shadow."
>
Xu Heng gripped the letter tightly, then looked up at the twilight sky above the palace.
"First Shadow... it's time for you to move again."
On the roof of the highest temple in Longyuan,
someone stood overlooking the city—his face covered by the red horned mask, his robe fluttering in the night wind.
Lin Xuan.
His eyes reflected the light of distant lanterns below,
and in that silence, he whispered to himself.
"Just like before... only now, I work under the Emperor. I only strike because this world needs its executioner."
From a distance, the palace bell tolled—a sign of the changing night.
Lin Xuan leaped down from the tower,
and the red shadow moved again under the moonlight.
The sky seemed to be washed clean by a gentle mist. Lantern lights lined the stone streets of the capital, reflecting a golden glow that swayed in the puddles from the afternoon rain.
But on the high rooftops, there was one figure who was not asleep.
The red shadow flashed between the buildings' roofs. His movements were almost inaudible, like a breeze cutting the air.
Under the pale moonlight, a flash of black steel was seen for a moment—the Yanlong sword in Lin Xuan's hand.
The red demon mask covered his face, his eyes reflecting the moonlight, cold and sharp like the sword light itself.
The night wind brought a soft sigh—not from a human, but from something else: the spirits sealed within his body, whispering like a prayer from the darkness.
Minister of Finance Shen Yuan's palace stood magnificently in the center of Longyuan's western district.
Its walls were high, tightly guarded by twelve palace guards and four personal guards from the royal elite unit.
But that night, the air felt strange—heavy, and too quiet.
One of the guards in the front tower looked up at the sky, his eyes narrowed.
"This night wind... is so cold," he murmured.
Before he could take a second breath, his body fell. Soundlessly.
His throat was already slit—blood dripping without a chance to scream.
The red shadow passed.
In a fraction of a second, two other guards collapsed. No sound, no footprints. Only the scent of iron slowly thickening in the air.
Lin Xuan descended from the roof, landing in the palace courtyard covered in a thin mist.
His steps were slow, calm, but every trace left a chilling, deadly air.
From inside the large room, the sound of a middle-aged man arguing with a servant could be heard—the voice of Shen Yuan, the minister.
He was counting stacks of gold and contracts, unaware that the shadow of death was already standing outside his window.
Lin Xuan looked inside, then slowly raised his hand.
A dark red light pulsed around his body.
The air trembled.
From his back, black smoke pierced the sky—forming a black dragon that circled in the air, its eyes burning red, roaring soundlessly.
"Yanlong... feast tonight."
The window exploded open.
Shen Yuan turned in panic, his mouth not yet having a chance to scream—when the red shadow darted in.
Lin Xuan's sword moved once. Only once.
A red light flashed, cutting the air like a line of fire.
Blood dripped from the tip of the sword. Time seemed to stop.
But Lin Xuan did not strike the minister's head. He thrust his sword into the wall behind Shen Yuan, pinning the man's body between the steel blade and the stone.
"You sold economic secrets to Han," Lin Xuan said flatly.
"But I am not an executioner who wants to hear reasons."
Shen Yuan shivered, blood seeping from his shoulder. "W-who are you... who sent you—"
Lin Xuan looked at him without emotion.
"Me? The Shadow of the Xiyang Empire."
Shen Yuan's eyes widened. But before he could speak, the black dragon behind Lin Xuan darted—piercing his body in a flash.
No major wounds. No screams.
But his eyes were empty. Shen Yuan's soul left his body, swallowed by the dragon, then vanished into mist.
Lin Xuan slowly pulled out his sword.
The blood clinging to the blade evaporated, absorbed into the black metal.
"Another one done," he said softly.
But suddenly, on the opposite roof, a voice was heard.
"A shadow walking under the emperor's command..."
The voice was heavy, echoing.
"...is it truly you they call the Man in the Red Demon Mask? The legend, the myth who guarded the Tianmen fortress during the attack of 50,000 Han troops."
Lin Xuan looked up.
On top of the stone tower, stood a figure in a dark blue robe, carrying a long spear that vibrated faintly with his spiritual aura.
His face was not visible, but his aura was strong—not an ordinary guard.
Lin Xuan sighed.
"So, they are starting to send observers."
The figure on the roof leaped down, landing ten steps in front of him. "I only want to know one thing. Are you human... or demon?"
Lin Xuan did not answer.
He just slowly lowered his sword, then raised his left hand.
From his palm, a thick aura emerged—the silhouette of the horned demon slowly appearing behind him, staring directly at the figure.
"You can find out for yourself," he said coldly.
"If you live."
The night exploded in a clash of red and blue light.
The clang of steel, the spiritual tremor, and the sound of the dragon mixed with human screams—making the Longyuan sky look like a hell born in the middle of the city.
Lin Xuan turned, walking away from the alley.
But from a distance, a pair of black eyes watched in silence.
A man in a black warrior's uniform with silver stripes, the inverted Han national emblem on his shoulder, followed the trail of blood left on the stone.
He saw it directly—the red shadow walking amidst the rain, his steps silent yet oppressing the air around him.
"The red demon mask..." the man whispered with awe and horror.
"So... the legend is real."
He reached for a dove, writing on a piece of paper to send a secret message:
"I found him, master. The shadow hunter is young. A student... from Guangming Academy."
A few hours later, palace guards found a blood-soaked corpse in Shen Yuan's courtyard.
No sign of the perpetrator. No witnesses.
Only a red mark on the stone wall—a burnt trace of a dragon painting on its surface.
And throughout Longyuan, rumors began to blow.
"The Imperial Shadow moves in such a way."
"They say... he wears a red demon mask."
"Ah, that's just an old Tianmen tale."
"A tale can't leave a scar like that, friend..."
The morning in Longyuan seemed peaceful as if the night before had never happened.
Birds fluttered around the Guangming Academy courtyard, the young sun reflecting a golden color on the surface of the small lake in the middle of the courtyard.
The students had started training—the clanging of swords, light incantations, and the sound of trainers broke the fresh morning air.
But in the corner of the west terrace, one young man seemed unaffected by the hustle.
Lin Xuan sat leaning against a wooden pillar, half-sleepy, chewing on an apple he got from somewhere.
His hair was messy, his training uniform not fully buttoned, and his gaze was vacant towards the blue sky.
"Lin Xuan!"
Han Jie's voice echoed from the training field. "You're really skipping morning practice again!? Tutor Wei has been looking for you!"
Lin Xuan turned slowly, lazily.
"Sword practice in the morning only makes the hands stiff. I prefer training my mind in sleep."
Han Jie slapped his forehead hard. "You really are the most annoying student in this academy, you know that!?"
Lin Xuan just shrugged and bit his apple again.
A few steps away, Zi Yueyan passed—her long black hair danced gently in the wind. She stopped briefly, looking at Lin Xuan who was sitting casually.
"You've gone back to being lazy as usual," she said coldly.
Her tone was soft but full of sarcasm.
Lin Xuan smiled faintly. "That's because the world is busy enough without me running around too."
Zi Yueyan rolled her eyes, looking at Han Jie who could only laugh awkwardly. "I don't know why the academy hasn't expelled you," she murmured, then walked away towards the main hall with two other female students.
Han Jie patted Lin Xuan's shoulder. "You're truly immune to Yueyan's anger. If I were the one she said that to, Tutor Wei would have already whipped me."
Lin Xuan stood up, stretched, and looked towards the academy gate. "Yueyan only likes to talk, not attack. If she attacks... then I'll wake up."
Han Jie snorted. "I give up."
Meanwhile, in the central courtyard, a group of students were gathered around reading the morning newspaper that had just been delivered from the palace district.
Their voices were loud, full of curiosity.
"Hey, did you hear this? Minister of Finance Shen Yuan was found dead last night!"
"Seriously? Wasn't his house guarded by twelve elite guards?"
"They say... he was killed by the imperial shadow hunter!"
"Shadow hunter? Isn't that just a political rumor?"
One student whispered in a creepy tone.
"Someone said, the perpetrator wore a red demon mask."
Some people fell silent.
They looked at each other, then laughed loudly. "Hahaha! That Tianmen tale again! Aren't they tired of it?"
Han Jie, who also heard the conversation, turned to Lin Xuan.
"The red demon mask, huh? Funny, isn't it? The story is getting popular again."
Lin Xuan stared blankly at the courtyard.
"People like to name things they can't understand," he said softly, almost to himself.
Han Jie frowned. "What did you say?"
Lin Xuan smiled vaguely. "Oh, nothing. Just talking to the wind."
The Guangming Academy sky that afternoon was a golden orange.
Maple leaves fell softly, dancing in the main courtyard.
Lin Xuan sat leaning on the edge of the lotus pond, a blade of grass in his mouth, his eyes watching the water ripples that reflected the shadow of the clouds.
From a distance, a soft laugh was heard—a voice he knew.
Zi Yueyan and Feng Zhiren walked side by side on the path. Yueyan carried a thick book in her hand, while Zhiren held a bamboo umbrella, shielding both of them from the sharp afternoon sun.
"I didn't expect you to still remember the basic formula for that spiritual formation," Yueyan said with a small smile.
"How could I forget? Tutor Wei almost took my head off that time," Zhiren replied with a calm laugh.
Their voices blended softly with the evening breeze, making the Guangming courtyard feel lively and warm.
But by the side of the pond, Lin Xuan remained silent.
His grip on the grass tightened slightly, unconsciously.
"Why does it feel like... a stab? Just like that time...."
He didn't understand it himself.
All this time, he had always viewed the world from a distance—mocking it, belittling it, even considering everything no more than a brief game of mortal humans.
But now, seeing Yueyan smile at Zhiren like that, something stirred in his chest.
Painful... but faint. Warm... but disturbing.
Han Jie, who was sitting beside him, drank water from a jug and said casually,
"Huh, look at them. They suit each other perfectly, don't they? Two geniuses, equally disciplined, both looking perfect."
Lin Xuan just mumbled, "Hmph. Perfect is boring."
Han Jie looked at him in surprise. "What did you say?"
Lin Xuan shifted his gaze to the sky. "Nothing. I'm just hungry."
Dusk crept deeper. The golden light turned violet.
Zi Yueyan and Feng Zhiren stopped on the small bridge that crossed the pond. Yueyan looked at the water surface, her long black hair gently blown by the wind, refracting the orange color of the sunset. Zhiren looked at her for a moment—a long time, as if time stopped just for them.
Zhiren just laughed softly, then bowed slightly to shield her from the evening wind.
From a distance, Lin Xuan saw it all.
A single leaf fell on his shoulder, but he didn't brush it off.
His eyes were dim, staring blankly at the two figures under the twilight.
He didn't know what this feeling was—only knew his chest felt heavy.
"Jealous? Me? Hah... funny."
He laughed at himself inwardly, but the laugh did not leave his lips.
Behind his calmness, something was crawling up from a long-locked place:
a soft voice, a woman's face, and the light of a sword dancing in a shower of cherry blossoms.
"Zi Yueyan..." "What are you doing to me?"
Han Jie, who noticed the behavior, only laughed slightly.
"Don't tell me you're starting to envy Zhiren?"
Lin Xuan sighed. "Me? Envy Guangming's favorite student? No... it's just that the world is funny. Some people are chased by the light, while others have to hide in the shadows."
Han Jie looked at him confused, but Lin Xuan just patted his shoulder and walked away.
"Never mind. I'm going fishing by the river before night comes. The fish, at least, don't demand explanations about life."
That night, at the Xiyang Palace, the Head of Shadows Xu Heng knelt before Emperor Qin.
Emperor Qin—stared at the report scroll in his hands.
"Good. The traitors are cleansed without a trace. But..."
He looked deeply at Xu Heng.
"Rumors about the 'Man in the Red Demon Mask' are starting to spread in the city. I don't want the people to connect that old myth with the imperial hand."
Xu Heng bowed respectfully.
"Your Majesty need not worry. I will ensure the First Shadow's identity remains hidden... even among my own troops."
Emperor Qin nodded. On the other side...
behind the frozen mountain range in the north, the elite shadow group of the Han Kingdom—
"Master," he said softly. "We received a message from our spy. The shadow killer of Emperor Qin, his source... comes from a student of Guangming Academy."
Mo Cangwu narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp.
"An academy student... so the Emperor is hiding his executioner under the roof of that sacred school?"
The woman nodded. "Yes. We don't know his name yet. But the killer's trail is clear—leading to the same hunter power as the Tianmen legend."
Mo Cangwu stood up, turning his back to his subordinates, looking at the Longyuan map on the wall.
"Tianmen..." he muttered. "Five years ago, the legend of the red masked man slaughtered fifty thousand Han troops alone. And now... he appears again?"
The question went unanswered, holding the preparation to start a movement.
Night by the Longyuan River
The moonlight reflected on the water surface, creating a calm silver gleam. By the riverbank, Lin Xuan sat alone, his fishing rod stuck in the ground, while the night wind blew softly.
Beside him, the Yanlong sword leaned against a large stone, its blade covered with red cloth. From the tip of the scabbard, thin black smoke curled, as if alive and breathing with its owner.
"Be still," Lin Xuan murmured softly, looking at the water's reflection of his own face. "You will work again... but not tonight."
He took a long breath, watching the Longyuan night sky—peaceful, as if it never knew that in its darkness, much blood had been spilled by invisible command. In his mind, the words of Xu Heng and Emperor Qin echoed faintly, like a refrain from an untouched space.
"The First Shadow has moved. The world will be clean again... even if it has to be washed with blood."
Lin Xuan closed his eyes. The wind carried the sound of crickets and the gurgling water. Everything felt calm, but his heart knew... that calmness was fragile.
A black crow flew over him, flying low towards the west of the city.
He opened his eyes slowly, his lips curving into a faint smile.
"Looks like tomorrow night will be long."