The sun rose.
For the Four-Leaf Clover Sect, it was just another day. Disciples woke, cultivated, and trained.
In her cave, Yan Li painted, trying to capture something she didn't yet understand.
On the plateau, Wei Lian practiced his movement techniques, each step lighter than the last.
Sai watched the clouds, motionless, listening to something no one else could hear.
And Lin Yu... Lin Yu sipped tea in his residence, unaware these were his final hours.
Wang Tao hadn't slept.
He sat at his cave's entrance, staring at the horizon. His bow rested beside him; the red mask lay across his lap.
He took a deep breath.
Today. There is no tomorrow. No alternative plans. Either Lin Yu dies, or the poison kills me.
He stood. The preparations were complete: poison, bow, traps. Everything in its place.
Now, all he had to do—
"Wang Tao."
The voice came from outside—childlike, soft. His master.
Wang Tao froze.
"Coming," he replied, quickly hiding the mask and bow.
He opened the door. Sai stood there: golden hair shimmering in the morning light, eyes serene. He looked like a child, yet possessed the presence of an immortal.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Sai asked, almost teasingly.
Wang Tao hesitated for a heartbeat.
"Yes, Master. Please, enter."
Sai walked in, his eyes briefly scanning the room before he settled into a chair.
"Prepare some tea."
Wang Tao didn't question him. He moved in silence: kettle, water, fire. His hands worked out of habit, but his mind raced.
Why is he here?
"You know..." Sai's voice cut through the silence. "The lines of fate truly exist."
Wang Tao stopped. His heart tightened.
Does he know?
He forced himself to continue with the tea, but his hands trembled.
Give up? Not an option. If I fail, I die. Face him? Impossible to win. Explain the situation?
His mind spun through a thousand scenarios.
"However, I've always wondered," Sai continued, gazing into nothingness. "Sometimes we try to flee from one line, only to end up in another without realizing it."
He closed his eyes, lost in thought.
"To exist, to breathe, to walk... it is all a struggle. We are constantly fighting just to remain."
Wang Tao poured the water into the cup.
"But not every fight is a lonely one."
Sai opened his eyes.
"Humans exist in society for a reason."
Wang Tao couldn't hold his gaze. He looked away. Maintaining composure before his master was becoming impossible.
"The tea is for you," Sai said, walking toward the door. "I thought you might need it."
He left.
Wang Tao stood alone, staring at the steaming cup.
He knows. Or suspects. Or simply cares.
He didn't know which was worse.
He took the cup and drank. The tea was bitter, but it warmed him from the inside.
He set it aside and returned to his gear.
Today. There was no turning back.
---
Night and Silence walked together.
The first, a lady in dark robes—beautiful and feared. The second, a discreet old man in clothes as pale as tired clouds. He spoke little; he only watched.
Some love the night, others fear it. As for silence, people despise it—not for its own fault, but because they see themselves within it.
To Wang Tao, however, both were old friends. Since childhood, the night had been his companion, and silence his greatest sanctuary.
Tonight, they walked by his side once more.
Because it was time to kill.
---
The woods lay just behind the slope: dense shadows, exposed roots, trails too narrow for wide techniques.
Here, he would fight to live.
But first, he had to kill.
Wang Tao pressed his body against the rock, feeling the rough stone against his chest. His bow was drawn, the arrow poisoned. For precaution, he carried needles and two daggers, both laced with the same toxin.
The mission allowed for no errors.
The muscles in his arms trembled—not from fear, but from the strain of restraint.
In the distance, two presences approached.
Lin Yu walked calmly, as if this were just another routine path. Beside him, the Foundation Establishment elder followed in silence.
Wang Tao couldn't hear their conversation, but Lin Yu spoke incessantly, appearing enraged.
He brushed the thoughts aside and focused.
The air felt heavy, as if the world itself were watching.
Distance: one hundred and eighty paces.
Wind: northeast, unstable. Angle: clear, but only for a few seconds.
If he missed this moment, there wouldn't be another.
His heart hammered too hard, his breath too shallow. He forced himself to calm down.
An assassin does not tremble. An assassin executes.
A memory flashed through his mind: the Shadow, the poison burning in his veins, the deadline.
There was no choice. No escape without death. Only one path.
Wang Tao pulled the string further. His muscles screamed in protest. He ignored them.
Total focus.
The world narrowed until only three things remained: the target, the trajectory, the impact.
He released.
The arrow tore through the air—silent, relentless.
At the exact moment Lin Yu began to turn his head, the projectile pierced his chest.