Chapter 8: The Eye of the Storm
The wind howled through the valley as Xiao Lian carried Yun Mei on his back. The battle with the Shadow Sect had left them both drained, but there was no time to rest. They had to reach shelter before another attack came.
Ahead, the forest ended at the edge of a great cliff. Below, a roaring river cut through jagged rocks, and beyond it, the land stretched endlessly—rolling hills, darkened skies, and in the far distance, mountains shrouded in storm clouds.
The Stormlands.
Yun Mei stirred weakly. "We made it…"
Xiao Lian lowered her gently onto a patch of soft grass. "Not yet. We still have to cross."
She exhaled sharply. "The river's too strong. If we try to swim, we'll be carried away."
Xiao Lian scanned the area. A bridge should have existed here—there were remnants of stone supports on both sides, long crumbled by time.
Then, he felt it.
The wind.
It called to him.
He took a slow breath, tightening his grip on the Windblade.
Ever since the battle, the sword had felt different. Lighter, sharper, alive. He had felt something awaken deep within him—something vast, like the breath of a storm waiting to be unleashed.
He stepped to the cliff's edge and closed his eyes.
The wind gathered around him, swirling in a steady rhythm. He could feel its movement—not just as air, but as force, direction, balance.
Then, he stepped forward.
And the wind caught him.
For a breathless moment, Xiao Lian hovered above the roaring waters.
Then, like a leaf in a strong current, the wind carried him.
He landed lightly on the opposite side.
Yun Mei, still watching from the cliff, let out a low whistle. "Show-off."
Xiao Lian smirked. "Think you can manage?"
She shot him a glare but pulled herself to her feet. Injured or not, she refused to be left behind.
Xiao Lian extended a hand. "Trust me."
Yun Mei hesitated. But after a moment, she nodded.
As she stepped off the edge, Xiao Lian reached out, letting the wind wrap around her. He could feel its weight, its pressure. Slowly, carefully, he guided her across.
The moment she landed beside him, she exhaled in relief. "That was…"
Xiao Lian grinned. "Incredible?"
"Reckless."
He laughed, but his amusement faded as he turned toward the storm-shrouded mountains.
The Hall of Forgotten Winds awaited.
And they were not alone.
The Gathering Storm
Deep in the mountains, within the heart of the Shadow Sect's hidden fortress, Lei Feng stood before a vast map. The storm outside raged violently, but inside, the air was still—thick with tension.
A kneeling assassin spoke, his voice tight with pain. "He let me live… but only to send you a message."
Lei Feng's golden eyes darkened. "Tell me."
The assassin swallowed. "He said… he is coming for you."
Silence.
.....