"Interesting… so I even get the memories of the dead."
Wang Chen muttered under his breath, his voice low, almost disbelieving.
He sat leisurely on the stone chair within the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo, his gaze distant, as if staring through the courtyard walls themselves. A soft breeze stirred the leaves of the Bodhi tree nearby, their rustling the only sound accompanying his thoughts, without him realizing, his fingers were tapping rhythmically against the wooden armrest.
Within his mind, countless fragmented memories flickered—screams, orders, the scent of blood and greed—each belonging to those who had perished under his hand. As he sifted through the chaos, a smile tugged at his lips, cold and knowing.
"So this small city hides such an open scheme… a damaged Nascent Soul weapon of all things," he whispered, his eyes narrowing with intrigue.
"....truly the old monster cant be underestimated.."
He leaned back, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "Things are about to get interesting."
The revelation amused him. Even though he possessed the System and the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment, his disciples did not. If he could secure that treasure and repurpose it, it would be a great boon—both as protection and leverage.
After all his lifespan was limited, it would be just blink of an eye before ten years would come to pass, and although the system had given him hope in the end, it was just hope, he had to prepare for the worst.
Indeed, the Blood Fang Gang had stumbled upon the Ten Thousand Soul Flag, a weapon of the Nascent Soul Realm. Few among their ranks even knew of its existence, and that secrecy had allowed them to grow bold—recklessly so.
Wang Chen's smile deepened. "So that's why they haven't come knocking on my door yet…"
He had been wondering why Blood Fang, with its eyes and ears in every alley of the Imperial City, hadn't made a move against him. Now he knew—they were too busy guarding their little apocalypse.
...
Days slipped by in deceptive peace.
The Imperial City basked under gentle sunlight, but beneath the calm surface, tension brewed like venom. The wise and the paranoid had already begun fleeing the city, taking the silence as an omen.
By the third day, rumors burst like wildfire. Word spread that the Blood Fang Gang possessed a damaged Nascent Soul treasure.
The remaining four major gangs reacted instantly. A weapon like that could overturn the city's balance of power.
Soon, whispers turned into meetings, and meetings into pacts.
A secret alliance was formed—led by none other than the Sharp Tooth Gang.
Blood Fang's response was predictable and brutal. They sealed their headquarters, recalled their scattered members, and prepared for war.
---
Inside the Blood Fang Hall
The air was thick with sandalwood and rage. Candlelight trembled as Bu Fang, the gang's broad-shouldered leader, slammed his fist onto the table, sending reports scattering like frightened birds.
"That pig Sui Zheng! How did the news leak?!"
The scent of smoke hung heavy, mingled with the faint copper tang of blood.
Across from him, Vice Leader Zhang sat in silence, his fingers rhythmically tapping the hilt of his dagger. The sound echoed through the suffocating room like a countdown.
At last, Zhang spoke.
"How the leader of Sharp Tooth got the news doesn't matter. What matters is finding who stole the Ten Thousand Soul Flag."
Bu Fang's head jerked up sharply. "What did you say?"
Zhang's expression didn't waver. "The flag was stolen. The treasure's gone."
For a moment, silence ruled the room. Then Bu Fang's face twisted, veins bulging across his forehead.
"Who dares…?!"
Neither of them noticed the shadow the size of an ant clinging to the far wall, silently absorbing every word.
The moment the shadow heard the news, it trembled violently—then vanished into nothing.
Only then did the two gang leaders relax slightly.
"Is he gone?" Bu Fang asked in a low tone.
Zhang nodded wordlessly.
A cruel sneer crept across Bu Fang's face.
"So that pig Sui Zheng thinks we'll repair the treasure for him, then let him snatch it from our hands? Does he take me for a fool?"
Zhang didn't answer, but the glint in his eyes was colder than steel.
"Find out who's truly behind this," Bu Fang growled, crushing the remaining scrolls in his fist. "That idiot Sui Zheng couldn't come up with something this cunning."
Zhang bowed slightly and departed, the sound of his boots fading into the night.
To them, Wang Chen was too insignificant to even mention.
---
In a secluded courtyard lit by the pale moon, Sui Zheng, the leader of the Sharp Tooth Gang, sat sipping tea. His calm demeanor was shattered when the air rippled and a dark shadow materialized before him, bowing deeply.
"Report," Sui Zheng said coldly.
The masked man's voice was low and trembling. "Blood Fang is making preparations, my lord. Just as you predicted."
Sui Zheng allowed himself a small, satisfied nod. Everything was proceeding according to his plan—until the spy spoke again.
"However… the Nascent Soul treasure, the Ten Thousand Soul Flag, has been stolen."
The teacup slipped from his grasp and shattered.
"What?"
The spy flinched. "It's true, my lord. They are in chaos."
Sui Zheng froze, his expression flickering between disbelief and fury. For a moment, he didn't breathe.
When the spy vanished, he stood alone under the moonlight, his composed mask cracking.
"This wasn't… according to the plan," he hissed.
He raised his trembling hand, staring at the black obsidian ring on his index finger.
"Senior," he whispered urgently, "the treasure is gone! What do we do?"
The mighty gang leader of Sharp Tooth now looked like a desperate child begging forgiveness from an unseen master.
---
Meanwhile, Back at the Dojo
The Phoenix and Dragon Dojo was eerily calm.
For the past three days, Wang Chen had been using Doomclock repeatedly—placing invisible death timers on members of the Blood Fang Gang. Each victim fell days later, with no trace of poison or Qi fluctuation.
He targeted them methodically, especially those connected to intelligence and surveillance.
He could have expanded his hunt, targeting all the city's gangs. But that would have been foolish.
"Better one enemy than the whole city," he murmured.
And so, the Blood Fang Gang bled in silence.
Within their headquarters, panic simmered. Bu Fang hurled another report into the fire, his expression twisted in fury.
"Can someone tell me who this curse master is?!" he roared. "Why is he targeting my Blood Fang alone?"
His rage was justified. Dozens of men had died in three days—silently, without wounds, as if their souls had simply been erased.
Vice Leader Zhang remained indifferent, his voice calm yet chilling.
"No Qi traces. No poison. Every death… looks natural."
Bu Fang slammed his fist again. "Then use any means necessary. Ask help from the Divine Hall. I don't care what it takes—find that curse master and bring me his head!"
The flames reflected in his eyes danced wildly, painting his face in a flickering red.
Unseen by all, somewhere in the vast city, Wang Chen sat cross-legged under the Bodhi tree—eyes half-closed, a faint smirk curving his lips.
The clock was ticking.