The private chamber of Fu Jing Xuan still reeked of chili oil and fermented black beans when Qin Yu dropped his bombshell. Lin Hao’s chopsticks froze above a plate of braised lotus root, the dish’s caramelized edges glistening like amber under hanging lanterns. Outside, night insects thrummed against rice-paper windows—a living metronome counting the silence.

  “A Saint’s tomb?” Gu Yunle spat out a chicken bone that clattered against porcelain like a poorly thrown dagger. “You’re either drunk or delusional.”

  Qin Yu’s wine cup left a damp ring on the lacquered table, its contents smelling of aged oak and crushed violets. “My father’s lieutenant tracked energy fluctuations in the Blackscale Gorge,” he said, tracing a finger through condensation. “The tomb’s barrier emits auroral patterns every third lunar cycle—Saint-tier defensive arrays don’t decorate chicken coops.”

  Lei Meng cracked a walnut between calloused palms, the sound sharp as snapping bone. “Why hasn’t this lieutenant claimed it?” His breath carried the chalky aftertaste of roasted chestnuts from street vendors.

  “Saint-tier traps require Saint-tier fools.” Qin Yu’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “The discoverer leaked coordinates through phosphorus fires—ghost lights to lure the greedy and desperate. Clever bait for breaking seals.”

  21:15 – Calculations

  Lin Hao’s mind raced faster than Wolfspider’s processors. The gravity armor beneath his robes hummed faintly, its energy core resonating with the Devouring Void’s dormant hunger. Saint relics could power his ascension through warrior ranks—or fund a small rebellion if the royal courts turned hostile.

  Yan Xinyue’s jade hairpin caught lamplight as she leaned forward. “The eclipse weakens all barriers,” she murmured, her scent of winter plum blossoms cutting through the greasy air. “Three days hence, at moonrise.”

  Four Treabytes ruffled metallic feathers on Lin Hao’s shoulder, its talons digging crescent marks into padded silk. The raptor’s augmented vision projected tactical overlays—topographic maps of Blackscale Gorge flickering across Lin Hao’s neural interface.

  21:37 – Partings

  Gu Yunle shoved back his chair with a screech that set teeth on edge. “Dead men’s knickknacks aren’t worth missing grade tournaments.” His boots tracked muddy prints toward the exit, each step releasing earthy wafts of the alleyways they’d traversed.

  Lei Meng lingered to pocket uneaten buns, their steamed surfaces dented by his grip. “My village expects trophies,” he rumbled, the lie smelling of roasted barley and childhood shame.

  Only Qin Yu met Lin Hao’s gaze squarely. “The crown prince moves against Fourth Brother,” he said quietly, ice clinking in his emptied cup. “I’m needed here as shield and sword.”

  22:01 – Resolve

  Alone in his dormitory, Lin Hao cataloged supplies by touch. Wolfspider scuttled across medicinal pellets that reeked of sulfur and dried sea slugs—healing agents for the gorge’s venomous fauna. Four Treabytes preened oiled feathers that smelled of smithy smoke and vigilance.

  The gravity armor’s servos whined as he shrugged it off, revealing skin mapped with meridian points that glowed faintly—five pulsing rivers meeting at his dantian. Saint-tier energy could force open his sixth meridian, maybe seventh. Power to crush assassins. Bargaining chips against royal intrigues.

  05:30 – Departure

  Dawn painted the training fields in hues of burnt copper and chilled steel. Yan Xinyue waited at the gates, her travel pack exuding camphor and dried licorice—healer’s provisions. “You’ll need navigation,” she said, pressing a jade compass into Lin Hao’s palm. The stone retained her body warmth and a whisper of peony perfume.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Qin Yu arrived winded, his breath fogging the air with last night’s rice wine. “From Father’s armory.” The dagger he offered hummed with captive lightning, its hilt wrapped in shark skin that prickled against Lin Hao’s palm.

  Even Gu Yunle appeared, tossing a money pouch that clinked with silver smelling of salt and desperation. “Family surveillance,” he grumbled, scratching at sleep-crusted eyes. “Pretend we never did this.”

  As Lin Hao vanished into the mist-shrouded foothills, Wolfspider’s sensors logged a final signature—Zhao Ling’er’s jasmine perfume lingering on the eastern breeze, untouched and unacknowledged.

  Convergence in the Wilds

  Dawn painted the gates of Tianyan Academy in hues of bruised plum and tarnished silver as Lin Hao departed. Qin Yu’s farewell hung in the air like incense smoke—thick with unspoken warnings. The gravity armor beneath Lin Hao’s assassin garb hummed faintly, its energy core resonating with the metallic tang of impending storms.

  Eight days later, the Blackscale Mountains loomed like a row of broken teeth against the horizon. Decaying leaves crunched underfoot, releasing earthy notes of fungal rot and iron-rich soil. Lin Hao’s mask filtered the air, but couldn’t block the pine resin sharpness that stung his nostrils—the mountains’ primal greeting.

  09:17 – Interlopers

  A hunting party emerged from mist-wreathed ferns, their blades glinting with recent polish. The scarred leader dragged a thumb across his throat, the gesture accompanied by halitosis strong enough to wilt nearby ferns. Four Treabytes mantled its wings, the rustle of steel feathers blending with the mountains’ constant whisper.

  “Ignore them,” Lin Hao murmured, though Wolfspider’s venom reservoirs already pressurized in his sleeve compartments. The drone’s infrared scan tagged twelve thermal signatures—eleven human, one reeking of fermented barley and poor decisions.

  17:43 – Threshold

  Dusk transformed the forest into a cathedral of shadows. Lin Hao’s boot dislodged a shale fragment, its clatter echoing like bones tumbling down a burial shaft. Bai sniffed at claw marks scoring a cedar trunk—parallel grooves oozing sap that smelled of medicinal bitterness and territorial warning.

  The white ape suddenly bolted, its excited chitters cutting through the twilight. Lin Hao’s augmented hearing tracked the commotion: snapping twigs, a man’s guttural curse, then the meaty thud of flesh impacting stone.

  19:02 – Hunted

  By the sulfur-stench campfire’s glow, Lin Hao found the scarred leader clutching a ruined eye socket. Blood seeped between his fingers, its copper tang mingling with the acrid fear-sweat of his companions. Bai crouched on a mossy boulder, licking gore from its claws with the fastidiousness of a gourmet sampling new delicacy.

  “Kill that demon monkey!” The wounded man’s shriek scattered nesting crows. His remaining eye reflected firelight and madness—a trapped animal’s glare.

  Lin Hao stepped into the clearing, gravity armor whining as it cycled to combat readiness. The hunters’ weapons wavered between Bai and this new threat, their uncertainty smelling like rust and urine.

  21:15 – Negotiations

  The standoff broke with the suddenness of ice cracking underfoot. Wolfspider’s neurotoxin darts found three throats before the first sword cleared its scabbard. Four Treabytes dive-bombed another, talons shearing through leather armor with the sound of rending parchment.

  Bai proved most inventive—it swung from pine branches to dropkick a crossbowman, the impact’s crunch harmonizing with splintering wood. When silence returned, only the scarred leader remained kneeling, his remaining eye tracking the carnage with dawning horror.

  Lin Hao crouched, mask inches from the man’s bloodied face. “The tomb’s location,” he demanded, voice filtered to metallic rasp. “Or join your friends in whatever hell awaits fools.”

  22:30 – Revelations

  The hunter’s cracked lips parted, releasing a bubble of blood that popped with faint sweetness. “Phosphorus fires… northeast ridge… two nights hence…” His final breath carried the sourness of betrayal—whether of comrades or conscience remained unclear.

  As Lin Hao straightened, Bai presented a grisly trophy—the man’s severed thumb still clutching a jade token. Wolfspider’s analysis identified the carved symbol: a seven-petaled lotus cradling crescent moons. The same emblem from Qin Yu’s pottery shard.

  23:55 – Preparations

  Deep in a granite hollow, Lin Hao cataloged supplies by touch. Medicinal pellets rolled like marbles across stone—antidotes for the Blackscale’s venomous flora. Four Treabytes preened on an outcrop, its oiled feathers reflecting starlight in prismatic bursts.

  Bai snored nearby, belly distended with stolen provisions. The ape’s paws still bore traces of combat—dried blood under claws, pine sap matting white fur. Lin Hao left it undisturbed. Tomorrow’s trials would require primal ferocity, not civilized restraint.

  Wolfspider’s sensors detected motion at 0237 hours—a shadow flitting between moonlit crags. The figure moved with familiar grace, jasmine perfume cutting through the night’s mineral chill. Zhao Ling’er paused at the hollow’s edge, her silhouette trembling like a mirage before dissolving into darkness.

  Lin Hao’s mask hid the tightening of his jaw. The Devouring Void stirred in response to his spiking pulse, its hunger a living thing coiling behind his ribs. Somewhere in the mountains, phosphorus waited to ignite.