The golden glow of lantern light shimmered across carved wooden walls etched with dragons. The air was thick with the heady aroma of fine wine, its steam rising from a black jade flask, carrying the intoxicating scent of rare spices.
"It must be nice being the son of a clan leader," Yaohua said softly, swirling the cup of wine in her hand. Her tone was smooth, with a hint of teasing allure. "You can treat any woman you want to the most expensive drink in the city."
Mo Long chuckled lightly. He lifted the flask and poured more wine into Yaohua's cup until it nearly overflowed. "Unfortunately," he said, "this is the first time I've ever treated a woman to a drink."
Yaohua arched a brow, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Impossible," she said. "With your looks, your strength, and that title—'son of the clan leader'—you must have a line of women waiting for you."
She drained her cup in one long swallow, the flush of alcohol coloring her cheeks. "Delicious…" she sighed, then laughed softly. "So, tell me the truth—how many women have you slept with, Mo Long?"
Mo Long met her gaze for a long moment, the faint gleam in his eyes like embers hidden beneath smoke. He took a slow sip from his own cup before answering.
"Only one," he said calmly, his voice low but certain. "And that woman… is sitting right in front of me."
Yaohua froze, her face turning crimson. She stared at him in disbelief, then lightly smacked the table, trying to mask her fluster with a forced scowl.
"Don't joke like that. Sweet words won't work on me."
Mo Long didn't reply. He leaned forward, closing the space between them until their faces were only a hand's breadth apart. His voice dropped to a warm, steady whisper.
"I'm not joking," he said. "You're the one who took my first time."
Yaohua's breath caught. She hurriedly reached for the flask. "I don't believe you," she muttered, her tone flat but trembling faintly.
Mo Long leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Everyone in my clan knows I only reawakened my dantian ten days ago. Before that, I was just a weak, small boy with no strength at all."
His gaze softened, yet carried the sharpness of someone far older than his years.
"So the man sitting before you now," he said quietly, "is a butterfly that's only just escaped its cocoon."
"And you," his smile deepened, "are the one who caught it."
Yaohua was silent for a long while. Then, slowly, a small smile bloomed on her lips, followed by a soft, genuine laugh. "I don't know why," she said in a faint whisper, "but when I look at you… I feel like I'm looking at a man who's already tasted the sweetness and bitterness of life."
Mo Long's smile was subtle as he turned his eyes toward the window, where a silver moon hung quietly in the night sky. "Perhaps," he said softly, "I already have… just not in this life."
Silence lingered between them. Only the gentle sound of flute music and the clink of wine cups filled the air.
Yaohua took another sip, then set her cup down with a faint clatter. A wistful smile touched her lips as she stared into the glass, as if weighing the painful fragments of her past one by one.
"I don't know what sins I committed in my past life to deserve so much misfortune in this one," she said softly, exhausted. "My life feels unbearably heavy, Mo Long."
Mo Long paused mid-pour. He watched Yaohua — the steely face she usually wore had softened. He didn't answer right away, letting the silence fill the space between them.
Yaohua closed her eyes for a moment, then exhaled slowly. "Meeting Haikun felt wrong. I should have died that day—killed by them, by those Wudang men. Maybe that death would have been better than living on with the image of my daughter… haunting me forever." Her voice broke. She swallowed the wine, trying to calm the burning feeling in her chest.
The world around them seemed to dim. Mo Long lifted a hand and gently touched Yaohua's cheek with his fingertip. The touch was quieting. "Let the past go," he murmured, cold but gentle. "Nobody knows what the future holds."
Yaohua drew in a breath. "It's not the person I can't forget — it's the pain he caused. My little girl had to die by her own father's hands." Her eyes filled with tears. Mo Long cupped her cheek tenderly, holding it as if to keep the tears from falling.
"He even… after I tried to stand again, he killed the people close to me," Yaohua said, her tone shifting to anger. She slammed the table until the cup trembled. "I want to kill him myself. With my own hands. At any cost — I must atone for bringing that demon here."
Mo Long turned, looking at Yaohua intently. "Are you sure you want to kill Haikun?" he asked calmly.
Yaohua nodded, her face resolute but weary. "I've searched for him so many times. But… all my efforts were in vain."
Mo Long's mouth curled into a faint grin; his voice took on a challenging edge. "What if I look for him for you?"
Yaohua sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a beat. The sincerity in her gaze left a trace of unease. "I… I enjoyed our time together," she admitted honestly, "but you must return soon. I don't want your life put at risk for my personal vengeance."
"I'll go back when I want," Mo Long replied briefly, his tone full of certainty.
Yaohua gave a flat smile — pride wounded, affection mixed in. "You are stubborn," she murmured. "Still, I won't forgive myself if something happens to you."
Mo Long leaned forward, a teasing smile challenging the air. "What if we spar?" he said suddenly.
Yaohua frowned, surprised by the offer. "Spar?" She thought for a moment. A shadow of a smile flickered on her lips — impossible to tell if it meant agreement or mockery.
At another table, not far from them, two guards sat. They drank casually, but their eyes never left the corner of the room.
"You've heard the rumors about the qi warriors whose minds were controlled, haven't you?" Hu Wei asked, his voice rough from too much liquor. His sharp eyes, however, remained vigilant even in his drunken state.
Gao Shui nodded, glancing briefly at Yaohua before turning back to Mo Long's direction. "Of course. It's the talk of the entire city. But—" his gaze flicked toward Yaohua again, tone dropping to something almost suggestive, "isn't that woman… the cause of it?"
Hu Wei raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I heard every single victim was a man who got too close to her."
Leaning forward, Gao Shui whispered, "I just don't understand… why would Young Master Mo Long risk himself for her? Is it love?"
Hu Wei gave a faint chuckle, a dry, almost amused sound. His lips curved into a knowing smile as his gaze drifted toward the table where Mo Long and Yaohua sat.
"Love?" he murmured, then laughed quietly under his breath. "Young Master Mo Long isn't the type to act out of love. He's a cold-blooded genius… and what scares me is that every single thing he does has a purpose behind it."
Gao Shui's brows furrowed in curiosity. "Really? Because all I see now is a young man who's fallen head over heels."
Hu Wei shrugged. "Maybe that's what it looks like. But ever since I've been serving under him, every step he takes surprises me. You saw it too—he and that woman were the ones who cured Lord Jin Hayato's son."
Gao Shui nodded slowly. "Yes… just a day ago, Lord Jin Hayato was furious with our clan because of Mo Feng's recklessness. And now? He's beaming with gratitude toward Young Master Mo Long."
Hu Wei smirked faintly. "That's how it goes. Even I didn't expect it."
"Three years ago," Gao Shui continued, pouring himself another cup, "I remember seeing him back in the clan—thin, weak, frail. And now…" he took a slow sip, his eyes thoughtful, "I'm certain that within a year, when I return home, the Shadow Dragon Clan will have completely changed because of him."
Hu Wei only gave a quiet snort in response—neither agreement nor denial.
Silence lingered for a moment before Gao Shui spoke again, his voice lower this time. "By the way… something strange's been happening in Long Ya City lately."
Hu Wei looked up. "Strange? How so?"
"I don't know why," Gao Shui said, his tone wary, "but beggars and street urchins have practically vanished. Especially the children. Not long ago, you could find them on every main road. Now—it's like they've all disappeared."
Hu Wei's expression turned grave. "Are you sure?"
Gao Shui nodded. "I walked around earlier today. It feels like someone's been… cleansing the city. But there's been no word of any plague or official sweep from the Law Pavilion."
Before Hu Wei could respond, the heavy-footed Gao Shan—broad-shouldered, loud, and rough around the edges—approached with another flask of wine in hand. "Hey, you two talk too damn much," he barked. "It's quiet out there. Gao Shui, your turn to keep watch."
Gao Shui clicked his tongue, annoyed. "You sure you're keeping watch, not taking a nap?"
Gao Shan straightened up, gulping from the large ceramic flask before letting out a thunderous burp. "Now that's good wine!" he roared, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Light footsteps approached. Mo Long and Yaohua appeared beside their table.
"Let's go," Mo Long said calmly.
Hu Wei and Gao Shui immediately stood. "Where to, Young Master?" Hu Wei asked.
Mo Long gave a faint smile. "I want to test my sword."
Gao Shui frowned. "Test your sword?"
Mo Long's eyes glimmered with quiet amusement. "I want to see how deep the skill of a former qi-healing warrior truly runs."
Moments later, beneath the perfect round glow of the full moon, the night was clear and still—its silence thick enough to hold every sound.
Footsteps echoed along the stone path. Mo Long led the way, Yaohua following close behind with her head slightly bowed—her expression calm, though tension flickered beneath her eyes. Hu Wei trailed a few steps behind, silent as a shadow, while Gao Shui and Gao Shan spread out farther back, keeping watch from the perimeter.
They stopped in an open courtyard bathed in moonlight. Mo Long and Yaohua faced each other at its center.
Hu Wei unsheathed a blade and held it out respectfully. "Please use this, Lady Yaohua. The Bronze Dragon Sword—crafted by our own family smiths."
Yaohua took the sword slowly, the bronze reflecting faint silver under the moon.
Mo Long smiled faintly and handed his own sword to Hu Wei. "I won't need this," he said casually. "Besides, my body still hasn't fully recovered—I can't exert too much Shadow Qi. And more importantly…" His lips curved faintly. "It's impolite to draw a sword against a woman."
Yaohua blinked, then scoffed softly. "Hah! Don't regret it later, arrogant brat."
Mo Long chuckled. "As I said before," he replied smoothly, "whoever hits the ground first loses. Are you ready?"
Yaohua grinned, raising her sword. "Of course. I'm ready to send you home covered in bruises."
Hu Wei raised a small throwing knife. "When this hits the ground—the match begins."
The knife spun under the moonlight, flashing once before plunging into the earth with a sharp thud!
Instantly, the open field erupted with motion.
Yaohua moved first—her steps light yet charged with power. Her blade sliced through the air in a violet arc—whoosh!—sending a wave of qi slashing toward Mo Long.
Mo Long merely shifted his stance, tilting his body just enough for the strike to graze past him, slicing a few strands of his hair that fluttered away in the moonlight.
In the blink of an eye, Yaohua vanished from sight. A horizontal slash came sweeping toward his neck—but Mo Long twisted his body, his knee shooting up sharply and smashing toward Yaohua's right arm.
Clang!
The sword in Yaohua's hand flew briefly into the air.
Mo Long let out a short laugh. "So, you really were trying to kill me, huh?"
"Shut up!" Yaohua hissed through gritted teeth. Her left hand moved swiftly—she caught the falling sword midair and thrust it straight toward Mo Long's abdomen.
Mo Long dropped low, his body nearly brushing the ground as one hand pressed against the dirt. In the next instant, he twisted up and was suddenly right in front of her—his movement fluid, too fast to follow.
Then—he flung a handful of soil toward her face.
Yaohua gasped, instinctively closing her eyes to block the dust. Just as Mo Long was about to deliver a sweeping kick—
AOOOM!
A thunderous roar exploded across the clearing. The sound rattled the trees and sent flocks of birds scattering into the night sky.
Mo Long instinctively shielded his ears with a layer of Hei Qi.
Up in the trees, Gao Shui's eyes widened. "That's… the Demon Tiger Roar," he whispered in disbelief.
Dust swirled thick in the moonlight.
"You cheated!" Yaohua shouted angrily, spinning her sword once more.
Mo Long only chuckled. "The only rule," he said lightly, "is that whoever falls—loses."
Yaohua dashed forward, her sword whirling in a blur of violet light. Each strike carved glowing arcs through the air, but every slash missed. Mo Long's movements flowed like water—ducking, turning, brushing aside the gusts of her qi with the flick of a sleeve.
In seconds, the distance between them vanished.
Mo Long pivoted smoothly, one hand snatching the sash from Yaohua's waist. With a single twist, he looped it around her wrist and pulled tight. Her sword halted midair, her body jerking forward toward him.
Now they were standing so close their breaths mingled.
"Let go!" Yaohua demanded, eyes blazing.
"With pleasure," Mo Long murmured.
His leg swept out swiftly—thud!—hooking behind her ankle.
Yaohua lost her balance, falling backward into the dirt as dust scattered around them. Her long crimson qipao became smeared with damp earth, her hand still bound to Mo Long's.
From the roof of the pavilion, Gao Shan burst out laughing. "Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!"
Mo Long leaned down, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he looked at her sprawled on the ground.
"It seems you underestimated me, Lady Yaohua."
"You… damn brat…" she muttered through flushed cheeks—half anger, half humiliation.
Mo Long lifted his bound hand slightly, pulling her upward with it until her body leaned into his chest.
The full moon's silver light bathed them both—two silhouettes drawn close, shadows merging into one.
Mo Long's smile softened, his voice barely a whisper.
"Now… tell me," he said, eyes locked on hers. "Who's the one who fell?"
***
While the moon still hung in the sky in one place, in another the dark thickened.
In a narrow, rocky chamber a single small torch guttered in the corner. There sat a man ashen as old parchment—sharp cheekbones, pinched lips—chewing at something with grotesque, mechanical motions. His voice came out hoarse when the thin, bent old man bowed before him. "Master… it seems your wife has found another man."
The pale man lifted his head slowly. "Fetch a qi cultivator," he rasped, voice steely despite its weakness. "I will punish that presumptuous fool."
The old man hesitated, lowering his gaze. "Master… this is different."
"Different?" The pale man froze, the chewing stilled.
"This time the one who approached your wife… he is no ordinary man. He is the son of the Shadow Dragon Clan's chief, and he came accompanied by three—"
A rough wave of the pale man's hand cut him off. The small object clenched in his fingers flew free and hit the stone with a soft, dreadful thud—the severed head of a boy, its eyes gouged out, rolling to a stop at the old man's feet.
The old man cried out in despair. "I do not care who he is! Bring me a qi cultivator—any strong one will do!"
From deeper in the passage a great shadow detached itself and stepped forward. Tall and broad-shouldered, the newcomer's voice fell like a stone. "I will fetch him, Master. A mighty—qi cultivator."
The pale man exhaled a long, rasping breath. "The ritual is nearly complete," he muttered. "Only one eye remains to open." Then, in a low, chilling whisper: "Bring me more children. I need more. When it is finished… I will personally punish every man who dares to come near my wife."
Beneath the two hollow sockets in his face, two additional eyes flickered open, pupils twitching. Above his nose, a small fifth aperture gaped faintly; its thin membrane trembled as he stared down the dark corridor with a face carved of unquenchable vengeance.