I. The Pursuit Under the Moonlight
Night on Mount Song was no longer a place of Zen-like peace. The air was bitingly cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and a lingering sense of foreboding that hung from the branches of ancient pine trees. At a side gate of the Shaolin Temple, hidden by thick, sprawling vines, a shadow moved with extreme caution.
The figure wore a wide gray cloak with a hood that completely concealed his face. He paused for a moment, glancing left and right with jerky, anxious movements to ensure no guards were watching, then darted down a secret path toward the market at the foot of the hill.
He was unaware that two pairs of eyes were watching him from different vantage points in the darkness, like predators observing wounded prey.
Tan Long hid behind the mossy trunk of an old pine. His breathing was so controlled it was nearly silent; his sharp eyes never left the figure for a single second. As the favored disciple of Chief Hong from the Beggars' Sect, his instincts for intrigue and suspicious movements had been honed on the streets of the Jianghu. "Very suspicious," he whispered to himself, stroking his bamboo staff. He began to move, leaping from one shadow to another without snapping a single twig beneath his feet.
On the other side, Feng Yu moved with a different kind of grace. This Wudang Sect disciple used high-level Cloud Step breathing techniques to completely mask his presence. He didn't follow from the side like Tan Long; instead, he glided from branch to branch behind the figure, maintaining a safe distance while remaining ready to intervene. His calm but cold eyes observed the hooded figure's movements—hurried, amateurish, and filled with fear.
The figure reached the edge of a dead market. The wooden stalls were tightly shut, leaving narrow, dim alleys slick with night dew. Stray dogs howled in the distance, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
"Stop right there!" Tan Long's voice thundered, shattering the silence of the night as he leapt from his hiding place, blocking the night wanderer's path with a solid martial stance.
The figure gasped, his body trembling violently as if struck by lightning. Without a word, he turned and tried to run in the opposite direction, only to run straight toward Feng Yu, who stood tall with arms crossed, his face illuminated by the pale moonlight.
ZAP!
With a lightning-fast motion that utilized his opponent's momentum, Feng Yu grabbed the figure's arm and twisted it behind his back in a perfect joint lock. The figure groaned in pain, and in the brief struggle, his hood fell back.
It revealed the face of a very young monk, likely an initiate of only a year. His face was deathly pale, cold sweat poured down his forehead, and his eyes bulged with terror as if he were looking at a demon.
"What is a novice monk doing at the market at such an hour?" Tan Long asked threateningly, his face only inches from the youth's. "Speak, or I will assume you are a spy for the Demonic Sect intending to blow up the temple again!"
"Mercy... mercy, Great Warrior!" the young monk cried in a hoarse voice. "I... I was only sent out by Monk Fa Xing! He told me to go to the market to buy urgent herbal medicine supplies and take them outside the mountain border. He said it was an emergency task from the monastery!"
Tan Long frowned, suspicion gnawing at him. "Why did you have to sneak around like a thief if you were just running an errand? And why did you run when I appeared?"
"Of course I panicked!" the novice replied stammering. "You suddenly appeared out of the darkness and roared like a hungry tiger! I thought you were a hired killer targeting monks!"
Feng Yu slowly released the lock, his eyes looking toward the mountain peak, toward the temple that now seemed far above the clouds. A bitter realization struck his mind. "Tan Long... we just wasted our time. We've been deceived."
Tan Long stood silent for a moment, then cursed loudly, striking a nearby tree trunk. "A decoy! Fa Xing used this boy as a distraction to keep us busy chasing him, while he himself escaped through another route!"
II. The Traitor's Escape and the Abandoned Temple
At the same time, far on the other side of the slopes of Mount Song, another figure moved with far more terrifying speed. Monk Fa Xing did not use any established paths. He traversed steep cliffs and deadly ravines—perilous routes known only to those who had inhabited Shaolin for decades.
His face, usually looking holy and serene, was now etched with lines of anxiety and greed. He knew that Abbot Xuan Ye's interrogation in the Hall of Punishment earlier was the final warning. He knew Hui Jian had started to sniff out his trail. His decision to leave Shaolin tonight was his final gamble. If he stayed, he would only end up as a rotting corpse beneath the monastery.
"Fools, all of you," Fa Xing hissed as he leapt across a wide rocky crevice. "You think you can cage me? Once I get my payment and protection from them, I will return to see Shaolin burned to its very roots."
He continued running until he reached a small valley hidden behind eternal mist. There stood a small temple that had been abandoned for hundreds of years. The roof had collapsed in many places, allowing vines to creep into the prayer hall. The large Buddha statue in the center had lost its face due to erosion, giving off a profound sense of horror.
Fa Xing entered the temple panting, dust swirling beneath his feet. In the center of the dark room, lit only by a sliver of starlight from the leaking roof, a tall, sturdy man sat atop a cracked altar.
The man is Blood Demon. His appearance was immensely intimidating: he wore black leather armor with blood-red accents that looked perpetually wet. His hair was long and white but tinged with red at the tips. Most terrifying was the greatsword leaning against the altar; the blade had jagged edges like shark teeth and emitted a bloodlust aura that made one's skin crawl. His glowing red eyes stared at Fa Xing with pure malice.
"You are late, Monk," Blood Demon's voice sounded like the grinding of gravestones, heavy and vibrating in the air.
"I had to take a detour to avoid being followed by two young warriors who keep sniffing my trail!" Fa Xing replied loudly, trying to mask his fear. "I have carried out my task perfectly! I framed that foolish cook, I poisoned the alliance leaders with the powder you gave me, and I have created a rift in the heart of Shaolin. Now, give me what you promised! Gold and a position within the Heavenly Demon Sect!"
Blood Demon stood up slowly. Standing nearly two meters tall, he made Fa Xing look small and insignificant. "Patience, traitorous Monk. The wages for your service... will not be delivered by my rough hands."
III. Poison and the Final Payment
Suddenly, the temperature inside the old temple plummeted. A purple shadow flickered across the ceiling, moving like windblown smoke. Before Fa Xing could realize what was happening, a woman in exceptionally fine purple silk robes, wearing attire that exposed a lethal aura, landed gracefully between Fa Xing and Blood Demon.
She possessed a face that was beautiful yet cold as ice, with dark eye makeup and long, purplish-black nails. Without a word, the woman flicked her wide sleeves.
WUSH!
Suddenly, a thick, purple mist with a sickeningly sweet odor sprayed directly into Fa Xing's face.
"Cough! Cough! What... what are you doing?!" Fa Xing staggered back, his hands clawing at the air, but oxygen seemed to have vanished from his surroundings.
Within seconds, Fa Xing's vision began to throb. His head felt as if it would burst, and a burning heat spread from his lungs to every blood vessel. He tried to circulate all his Shaolin Inner Qi to neutralize the poison, but he found that his own energy had turned into a fire burning his nerves.
He fell paralyzed onto the cold stone floor, his body convulsing violently. His vision began to blur, but he could still see the woman in purple walking toward him with rhythmic, slow steps.
"How is it, Monk? Do you like your 'payment'?" the woman's voice sounded soft and melodic, yet filled with hatred.
She was Poison Demon, one of the legendary high-ranking officers of the Heavenly Demon Sect.
Fa Xing tried to plead, but all that came out of his mouth was white froth mixed with thick black blood. His eyes bulged, staring at the faceless Buddha statue, as if remembering all his betrayals before he finally died in a gruesome state. His body began to turn black, a sign that the poison had destroyed his internal organs in a short time.
Poison Demon looked at Fa Xing's corpse with disgust, as if looking at an insect she had just crushed. She pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the tips of her fingers.
"Worthless trash. Did he think he was valuable enough to join us?" Poison Demon said coldly.
"Our plan did not go entirely as intended," Blood Demon growled, reaching for his greatsword. "I heard some of the alliance leaders are beginning to recover. How could your poison fail to kill them all?"
Poison Demon narrowed her eyes, a flash of anger appearing there. "I felt it too. There is someone in Shaolin with a very deep understanding of toxins. I thought the greatness of the Tang Sect's poisons had faded after the last great war. It seems their heir—that Tang youth—possesses enough skill to counter my creation. He is an uncalculated variable."
She walked toward the temple doorway, gazing at the peak of Mount Song, shrouded in black clouds and occasional flashes of lightning in the distance.
"However, our greatest obstacle remains Abbot Xuan Ye," Poison Demon continued seriously. "That old man's Inner Qi is too pure. As long as he breathes, Shaolin will never truly fall. We have lost Fa Xing as an internal pawn, but the chaos he left behind is enough for now."
Blood Demon exhaled a heavy, ragged breath, a palpable aura of bloodlust radiating from his serrated greatsword. "I hope Sun Fire Demon and Moon Ice Demon recover quickly from their wounds," he growled. "We must rebuild our full strength immediately. Without the scorching flames of Sun Fire and the absolute zero of Moon Ice, our conquest of the Murim Alliance will take far too long."
Poison Demon nodded slowly, her beautiful face appearing even paler under the spectral moonlight. "True. They are our pillars of strength. While they convalesce, we shall continue to weaken the enemy from the shadows. We will let them fester in their own suspicions; the Great Sects will tear each other apart blaming one another for Fa Xing's disappearance."
She walked toward the temple's threshold, gazing up at the sky as dark clouds began to gather, obscuring the stars.
"We only need to move slowly for our next plan," Poison Demon continued with a wicked, lingering smile. "All while we await the perfect moment for the resurrection of the Heavenly Demon. And when that day arrives, the entire Jianghu shall fall to its knees."
The two of them vanished into the darkness of the night with impossible speed, leaving the ancient, dilapidated temple back to its deathly silence, alongside the corpse of Fa Xing, which began to grow cold in the eternal gloom.