Chapter 9: Whispers of the Forgotten Wind
The sky above the Stormlands churned with dark clouds, the air thick with the scent of approaching rain. The land stretched endlessly before Xiao Lian and Yun Mei, marked by jagged cliffs, twisting ravines, and winds that howled like spirits of the past.
Somewhere beyond these endless storms lay their destination—the Hall of Forgotten Winds.
Yun Mei clutched her wounded side but pressed on. "We need to find shelter soon. That storm isn't normal."
Xiao Lian scanned the horizon. "Nothing here seems normal."
Indeed, the wind here wasn't just air—it was alive, watchful. It carried whispers, faint voices that tickled the edges of Xiao Lian's mind. It was as if something ancient was stirring beneath the storm.
And then—
A shift in the wind.
Xiao Lian reacted on instinct, drawing the Windblade just as an arrow whistled through the air.
He twisted, the blade moving faster than thought—and the arrow split in half mid-flight.
Yun Mei spun, daggers drawn. "We're not alone."
Figures emerged from the storm, clad in ragged cloaks. Their weapons gleamed—rusted but deadly. Their eyes burned with something unnatural.
Storm Raiders.
Nomads who had long forsaken the laws of the martial world, living only by the winds of violence.
One of them, a towering man with scars cutting across his face, stepped forward. He twirled a curved blade in his hands, eyes locked onto Xiao Lian.
"The sword you carry," he said, voice like gravel, "it does not belong to you."
Xiao Lian tightened his grip on the Windblade. "And who does it belong to?"
The raider grinned. "To the storm itself."
Then he lunged.
The Dance of Wind and Steel
Xiao Lian met the attack head-on.
The raider's curved blade struck with the force of a hurricane, but Xiao Lian moved with the wind, sidestepping just as the strike passed.
The Windblade hummed as it cut through the air—
A streak of silver. A flash of lightning.
The raider barely twisted away in time, his cloak torn by Xiao Lian's counterattack.
Another raider came from behind, a spear thrusting toward Xiao Lian's back—
But Yun Mei was faster.
Her daggers flashed, catching the spear mid-thrust. With a quick twist, she disarmed the attacker, spun, and drove a kick into his chest.
The raiders surrounded them, but Xiao Lian was no longer afraid.
He could feel it now—the current of the storm.
The wind wasn't his enemy.
It was his ally.
As the raiders charged again, Xiao Lian moved like the air itself—unpredictable, untouchable.
A step back, a pivot, and his blade sliced through the wind—cutting through the storm.
Raider after raider fell, until only the scarred leader remained.
He breathed heavily, but instead of anger, he laughed. "You wield the wind well, boy."
Xiao Lian kept his blade raised. "Leave."
The raider grinned. "You misunderstand. I wasn't sent to kill you. I was sent to test you."
Xiao Lian narrowed his eyes. "By who?"
The raider stepped back, gesturing toward the storm ahead. "Go to the Hall of Forgotten Winds. The one who waits will give you the answers you seek."
Then, like a shadow caught in the wind, the raider and his men disappeared into the storm.
Xiao Lian sheathed his sword.
Yun Mei exhaled. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I," Xiao Lian admitted.
But there was no turning back now.
The storm had chosen him.
And the true test was only beginning.
.....