Chapter 4
"A blade forged in light can cut clean. But a blade born of shadow doesn't slice—it consumes."
The moment Bai Shen saw him, he knew.
This wasn't like the others.
The man who stepped into the burial clearing wore blood-red armor that shimmered faintly beneath the rising moon. His aura pressed down like a grinding millstone—dense, suffocating, relentless. And the blade in his hand… it didn't hum like a cultivator's sword. It growled.
Captain Lang.
Leader of the Bloodroot Disciplinary Guard. Former war hero. Qi Grandmaster.
And, most importantly, the man who carried the execution order for "traitor's spawn."
His voice cut through the clearing.
"Bai Shen. Son of the heretic General Bai Zhen. You should have died with him."
Shen didn't flinch. His feet dug into the earth, the shadow beneath him pulsing faintly.
"Then come finish what your elders started."
Captain Lang didn't hesitate.
He vanished.
Boom—
The air detonated behind Shen before he could blink. He barely Veil-Stepped away as Lang's blade cleaved down, splitting the ground where Shen had stood. Trees splintered. Stones cracked.
Shen reappeared behind a slab of broken tombstone, breathing fast.
Too fast.
Lang was using Heaven-Tier Flashstep—a movement art far above Shen's level.
Shen reached inward.
The Shadow Core responded like a beast tasting blood.
He's faster. Stronger. You won't win by matching him. Make him fear you.
He gritted his teeth and murmured, "Soul Grip."
The shadow flared.
But Lang anticipated it.
He spun and cleaved downward—his blade releasing a wave of spirit Qi that dispelled the skeletal fist mid-rise.
"No shadow tricks, boy," Lang growled. "I fought your father. I know how to kill your kind."
Bai Shen narrowed his eyes.
"You mean you murdered him."
Lang's face didn't change.
But the pressure in the air thickened.
"I obeyed the Elders. Just like I'll obey now."
He charged again.
Shen leapt back, barely dodging the downward strike. The impact shook the ground, and sharp rocks exploded outward.
Veil Step.
He blinked left—Lang anticipated.
Another flash, Shen barely escaped a sweeping blade that would've taken his head.
The world blurred.
He couldn't keep trading space.
Lang wasn't just powerful—he was reading his movements.
And Shen was losing.
Mara's voice echoed in his mind.
"Shadows aren't barriers. They're openings. Don't fight his strength—guide it into the dark."
Shen exhaled.
Slowed.
Waited.
Lang appeared again, cutting low—
Shen dropped, hand to the ground—
"Fear Mark."
Dark tendrils pulsed beneath Lang's boots.
For the briefest second, the captain's foot faltered. His blade veered off by inches, scraping Shen's shoulder instead of piercing his chest.
Shen spun, slamming his palm into the ground.
"Soul Grip—Dual Channel!"
Two skeletal hands exploded upward from the ground—one gripping Lang's ankle, the other clawing at his arm.
Lang's Qi flared. The hands cracked under the pressure.
But that second—
Was all Shen needed.
He whispered a name he hadn't dared try.
"Veil Fang."
The shadow twisted into a sharp arc and lashed forward.
Not a hand.
A blade.
It tore across Lang's chest, slicing through his armor. Blood sprayed across the stones.
Lang roared and backhanded Shen with a burst of Qi that sent him flying.
Shen slammed into a pillar and crumpled.
His ribs screamed. One arm wouldn't move.
But Lang…
Lang was bleeding.
The captain stepped forward slowly now.
Cautious.
"Your father had that technique too," he said. "But he never mastered it."
Shen struggled to his feet.
"I'll go further than he ever did."
Lang raised his blade again.
"No, you won't."
He rushed in—and this time, Shen didn't dodge.
He stepped into the strike.
Lang's eyes widened.
At the last second, Shen's body dissolved into smoke—
A decoy.
Behind him, the real Bai Shen emerged from the shadows, both hands pressed to the ground.
The shadows exploded upward.
A beast emerged—not a hand.
A hound. Bone-clawed. Eye-less. Fanged.
It pounced on Lang.
The captain slashed it clean in two—but too late.
The beast exploded in a cloud of black spores, clouding Lang's senses.
And in that moment—
"FEAR MARK: AWAKENED FORM."
Shen's voice cut through the smoke.
Lang's eyes rolled back.
He fell to one knee, shaking.
"What… what is this…?"
Shen stepped forward, chest heaving, face pale.
"It's your fear," he said.
"You watched my father die because you were afraid to defy the Elders."
Lang shook violently.
"You see him now, don't you?" Shen whispered.
"In your mind. Standing over you."
Lang screamed and slashed blindly.
The blade cut nothing.
Shen struck with his remaining strength.
The shadow lashed out and wrapped around Lang's blade hand, crushing the bones.
Lang dropped the sword.
Shen didn't stop.
"Veil Fang—Second Form!"
He spun, the shadow extending from his palm in a spiraling blade that slashed Lang across the back.
Lang fell.
Blood soaked the stones.
His armor cracked.
His face—pure disbelief.
"You're… just a cripple…"
Shen stood over him.
"Not anymore."
He raised his hand—
But something inside him paused.
His father's voice.
"Killing doesn't prove strength. But sometimes… it makes a point."
He looked down at Lang.
Then turned away.
"You're not worth my father's memory."
Mara emerged from the shadows nearby.
She'd watched the entire fight.
"You spared him?" she asked.
"He'll spread the fear faster than a corpse," Shen said.
Mara nodded once.
"Then let the fear begin."
As they turned to leave the burial ground, a black ripple cracked the air behind them.
Shen turned.
A man in silver and red stepped through the tear—his eyes empty sockets, his skin tattooed in glowing sigils.
He didn't speak.
But Shen felt it.
Stronger than Lang.
Not alive.
Not dead.
A Shadow Hunter.
One who'd survived the Purge.