The road to the capital stretched like a silver thread through the rolling hills of the eastern province. Trees lined the path like silent sentinels, their budding leaves whispering secrets to the wind. Kael walked in silence, his cloak drawn close against the morning chill, his gaze set forward, always forward.
It had been three days since he left the Azure Feather Sect under Elder Yun's secret recommendation. His duel with Ren Hualing had left more than bruises and whispers—it had rippled through the inner halls of the sect, stirring the interest of elders and hidden masters alike. Kael had known it was only a matter of time before the eyes above turned downward to scrutinize the strange outer disciple with unreadable cultivation.
But he did not fear scrutiny. He feared interruption. He still had too much to learn, too much to master.
The capital was more than a destination. It was a crucible. And Kael intended to emerge tempered.
He paused on a hill crest, gazing over a shallow valley where a small merchant caravan moved sluggishly, its guards tense and alert. Something was wrong. His senses prickled.
He dropped low and listened.
Shouts erupted below. Black-cloaked figures emerged from the treeline, surrounding the caravan. Blades flashed. A child screamed.
Kael's body moved before his mind could stop it.
He descended the slope in silence, shadow to shadow. His steps left no sound, his form flickering like smoke. The bandits were fast—but not faster than him.
One turned just in time to see Kael's palm connect with his chest. A burst of internal energy crushed the man's ribcage silently. He collapsed with a wheeze.
Another raised his sword, but Kael vanished, reappeared behind him, and delivered a sweeping blow to the spine that knocked the man unconscious.
Within seconds, half of the attackers were down.
The rest turned, confusion giving way to panic.
"Who—?"
A spear came flying toward Kael. He twisted, grabbed the haft mid-air, and hurled it back with more force than any mortal should have had. It impaled a fleeing bandit into a tree trunk.
The caravan guards stared in awe. The surviving bandits scattered.
Kael said nothing. He turned to leave, but a woman's voice called out.
"Wait!"
He stopped.
A noblewoman stepped forward, dressed in travel-worn silks, her long dark hair tied in a warrior's braid. Her eyes were sharp—sharper than her soft features suggested.
"You saved us," she said. "At least tell us your name."
Kael looked away. "It's not important."
"It is to me," she said. "My name is Mei Rulan. My family owes you a debt."
He said nothing.
She stepped closer. "You're heading to the capital, aren't you?"
Kael glanced at her carriage. A sigil was painted on the side—two phoenix wings intertwined. House Rulan, one of the ten noble families of the empire.
Mei Rulan read his silence. "Let me offer you passage. You saved our lives. It's the least I can do."
Kael hesitated.
Riding with a noble family was exposure. Attention.
But it would also be useful.
He nodded once.
The inside of the carriage was comfortable but modest. Mei Rulan sat across from him, studying him like a puzzle.
"You fight like a shadow," she said. "But you wear the robes of a sect disciple."
"I was one."
"Which sect?"
"Azure Feather."
Her eyebrows rose. "Then you must be quite talented. Their disciples don't often walk alone."
Kael didn't reply.
After a moment, she said, "You don't speak much."
"Words are often wasted."
She smiled at that. "You're unlike any man I've met."
Kael closed his eyes, letting the quiet take him. But behind his calm face, his mind churned.
He had seen something in the attackers. Their movements, their qi—it wasn't just banditry. It was trained, coordinated.
There was something darker at play.
They reached the outskirts of the capital by dusk. The city walls rose like mountains, carved with runes and symbols from ancient times. Towering gates opened slowly, admitting merchants, nobles, soldiers.
Kael stepped out of the carriage, breathing in the scent of stone, sweat, and incense.
Mei Rulan touched his arm. "If you ever need help, find me in the Rulan estate."
He nodded and vanished into the crowd.
The capital was a beast of stone and ambition. The sect here—The Vermillion Star Pavilion—was known for its brutal tests and secret experiments. But Kael didn't come to join them. He came for knowledge. For what lay beneath the Pavilion: a forbidden archive hidden from the world.
He had learned of it from a fragmented scroll buried in a forgotten tomb—a relic of the Shadowbound Legacy.
The path to the archive wasn't direct. He needed access. And access meant influence.
He began small—visiting healer shops, alchemy stalls, offering his assistance quietly. He'd leave behind perfectly refined pills, mysterious runes, and whispers.
Within days, rumors spread. A ghost healer. A silent master. An unknown alchemist who cured a dying child with a single pill.
Kael used this growing myth to enter the outer circle of Pavilion influence. One day, he walked into a sparring ground, watched a disciple collapse from spiritual deviation, and stabilized the boy's meridians in minutes.
That act brought him to the attention of Elder Xun—one of the Pavilion's most respected alchemists.
"You," the old man had said, stroking his long beard, "are not who you seem to be."
Kael said nothing.
Elder Xun smiled. "Good. I hate pretenders. Come. You'll work in my hall."
Thus Kael found himself inside the Pavilion compound—not as a disciple, but as an 'apprentice aide.'
It was exactly what he wanted.
Weeks passed. Kael worked silently, learning the internal layout of the compound, memorizing guard schedules, unlocking the sequences behind the runic gates.
But his presence couldn't remain unchallenged.
One night, as he walked through the eastern garden, three figures dropped from the rooftop.
They wore red masks and held curved blades.
"You're not welcome here, shadow walker," one said. "You've upset balances you don't understand."
Kael smiled for the first time in days.
"Then let me rebalance them."
The fight was short.
Brutal.
His palm shattered bone. His foot broke spines. His qi burned silently, a dark mist wrapping around his strikes.
The last man screamed before collapsing, his meridians sealed.
Kael dragged the bodies to the shadow well behind the pavilion.
No evidence.
But that night, as he meditated in his quarters, a voice came from the darkness.
"Well done."
Kael opened his eyes.
A man stood at his door, wrapped in black and silver robes, a golden eye tattooed on his brow.
"I am Lang Zhu. I represent an alliance beyond this Pavilion. We've watched you."
Kael rose slowly. "And?"
"We want you to help us uncover the truth beneath the Pavilion. There are experiments here—secrets involving demonic blood, forbidden cultivation."
Kael's gaze darkened. "I know."
Lang Zhu smiled. "Then perhaps, Kael, we can work together."
Kael said nothing.
But in his heart, something stirred.
He was getting closer.
To the truth. To the legacy.
And soon, to the reckoning.