Echoes in the Night

Wu Jianyu tumbled out of the broken window, landing hard on the cobbled street. Pain shot through his already battered body, but the chilling scream that had spurred him on echoed again, closer this time. He pushed himself up, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him and sprinted towards the sound.

The marketplace, usually a cacophony of shouts and bartering, was eerily silent. Stalls stood abandoned, their colorful wares scattered like fallen leaves. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood, a sickening counterpoint to the moon's ethereal glow.

Wu Jianyu rounded a corner and his breath hitched. In the center of the square, a figure lay sprawled on the ground, motionless. A pool of crimson stained the cobblestones beneath them. Beside the body, another figure stood, cloaked in a dark silhouette, a long sword glinting ominously in the moonlight.

The assassin.

But this wasn't the same assassin Wu Jianyu had faced in the teahouse. This one exuded a different kind of menace, a cold, calculating aura that sent shivers down his spine. His movements were fluid and practiced, a stark contrast to the desperation Wu Jianyu had witnessed earlier.

As Wu Jianyu emerged from the shadows, the cloaked figure turned. Their eyes met, and a flicker of recognition crossed the assassin's face.

"You," the assassin hissed, his voice laced with a gravelly surprise. "You shouldn't be alive."

Wu Jianyu didn't reply. He didn't know who this new attacker was or why he seemed surprised to see him breathing. But the sight of the lifeless form on the ground ignited a fury that burned hotter than the throbbing pain in his chest.

He recognized the clothing – a simple tunic and worn trousers he'd seen countless times before. It was the attire of a young woman who frequented a stall near his usual spot. Though they'd never spoken, a grudging familiarity had formed. He'd often see her browsing the wares, her eyes sparkling with a quiet curiosity.

Why was she here, so late at night, in a deserted marketplace? Perhaps she'd forgotten something and returned for it, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. Or maybe, with a pang of a possibility he pushed down, she'd come looking for him. He'd noticed her lingering glances lately, a hesitant smile sometimes gracing her lips. Could she have witnessed something, something connected to the events that had turned his life upside down?

The memory of her lively presence made the sight of her still form even more unbearable. A primal rage, laced with a bitter helplessness, coursed through him. This wasn't just some stranger caught in the crossfire. This was someone who, in their own silent way, had shared a sliver of space in his world. Now, she was gone, a casualty in a fight he didn't understand.

With a primal roar that echoed through the deserted square, Wu Jianyu lunged forward. The lingering power of the Primordial Chaos granted him unexpected speed and strength. The assassin barely had time to parry the blow as Wu Jianyu's katana slammed into his sword.

The fight that followed was a blur of desperate fury and practiced skill. Wu Jianyu fought not just with his newfound strength, but with a raw emotion that fueled his every move. He wouldn't let this innocent life be taken in vain. Grief could wait. Now, survival was his only option, but also his only chance to find out who was behind this and make them pay.

The clang of steel on steel echoed through the deserted marketplace as Wu Jianyu and the assassin clashed. Sparks flew with each parry, briefly illuminating the cobblestones stained crimson with the woman's blood. Despite his grief and anger, Wu Jianyu recognized the assassin's skill. This was no ordinary thug; his movements were precise and deadly.

The assassin, a blur of darkness, pressed the attack. Wu Jianyu danced back, his borrowed katana singing a deadly counterpoint. He wasn't as skilled as his opponent, his training in the teahouse woefully inadequate for this brutal encounter. But the lingering power of the Primordial Chaos granted him unexpected speed and strength. He parried blows that should have landed, his muscles fueled by a desperate fury.

With a swift maneuver, the assassin lunged for Wu Jianyu's throat. In a desperate reflex, Wu Jianyu twisted out of the way, the assassin's blade slicing a shallow wound across his arm. A surge of pain lanced through him, but he ignored it, focusing all his energy on defense.

Their blades met in a shower of sparks, a stalemate that held for a tense heartbeat. The assassin, his breath ragged, stared into Wu Jianyu's eyes. A flicker of something – surprise? recognition? – passed through the assassin's face for a fleeting moment before his expression hardened once more.

"Who are you?" Wu Jianyu rasped, his voice raw with exertion. "Why are you after me?"

The assassin paused, his eyes narrowed beneath the dark hood. A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the ragged gasps of Wu Jianyu's breaths. Finally, the assassin spoke, his voice a low growl.

"You possess something you shouldn't," he hissed.

"What are you talking about?" Wu Jianyu demanded, his mind racing. The Primordial Chaos? The strange dreams? Could these be the reason for the relentless pursuit?

The assassin didn't answer. Instead, he raised his sword, a glint of finality in his eyes. Just as Wu Jianyu braced himself for the killing blow, a new sound pierced the night: a rhythmic pounding of boots on cobblestones.

Reinforcements.

The assassin cursed under his breath. He glanced towards the approaching sound, then back at Wu Jianyu, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. With a final glare, he vanished into the shadows, leaving Wu Jianyu alone with the echoing clang of steel and the chilling weight of the womans's lifeless form.

Relief washed over him, a brief respite in the storm that had become his life. But the sight of the woman's body, still and lifeless, brought the harsh reality crashing back.

The pounding grew louder, announcing the arrival of the city guards. Groaning, Wu Jianyu pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself for their questions. He had a story to tell, a story that would sound fantastical at best, and dangerous at worst. But he had no choice. He had to find out who was after him.

As the guards surrounded him, their faces etched with suspicion, Wu Jianyu knew his ordeal had just begun. The fight for his life had moved beyond the deserted marketplace; it was now a fight for the truth, a truth that seemed to lie buried in the shadows alongside the assassin.