Chapter 11 : A Dance of shadows

The moon hung low in the sky, shedding pale light onto the empty courtyard, its luminescence shimmering against the stone surface. The wind whispered gently through the trees, rustling their foliage, as if they, too, were witnesses to the looming violence.

Lu Shen stood at the heart of the courtyard, a quiet figure shrouded in shadows. His body remained motionless, yet his senses were highly alert. He sensed the presence of his foe, the slightest hint of movement in the stillness. The assassin had been hiding for hours, biding his time for the ideal moment to attack.

However, there was no longer any need to wait. Lu Shen had been aware of the assassin's presence since the moment he first set foot on the courtyard's threshold. The aroma of danger hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of wet stone. The enemy had misjudged him.

With a swift action, Lu Shen pivoted, his sword glinting in the moonlight as he unsheathed it. The sound of clashing steel echoed through the air as the assassin sprang from the shadows, his own weapon raised in a frantic arc. Their blades collided with a shrill cry of metal, the impact of the blow resonating throughout the night.

For an instant, there was only the noise of blades striking blades, the rhythmic choreography of combat. Yet beneath the surface, something more profound stirred within Lu Shen.

The betrayal. . .

It was a brief thought, but it persisted, like a faint murmur from a life long forgotten. Lu Shen's cold, methodical movements hesitated for just a moment as memories of past wounds resurfaced. He recalled the sting of betrayal, the empty sensation of helplessness when those he held dear had abandoned him. Those who had vowed loyalty, only to forsake him when it was most critical.

That was when I learned that trust is a weapon that can turn against you.

The assassin's blade advanced, compelling Lu Shen to counter with a sharp twist of his own weapon. He narrowed his eyes, dismissing the memory from his thoughts. He could not afford to ponder the past—not now, not amidst the chaos of battle. Survival required everything from him, and compassion was a luxury he could no longer permit himself.

With a swift gesture, Lu Shen stepped back, his sword slicing through the air with accuracy. He aimed low, targeting the assassin's legs, but the assassin skillfully evaded, pivoting to confront him. The assassin's eyes were filled with hatred and desperation. He was no longer just a fighter—he was a man driven to the edge, willing to do whatever it took to survive.

"Why? " the assassin spat, blood trickling from the edge of his mouth. "Why do you fight for them? You're merely a puppet, manipulated by forces beyond your control. You believe you're in charge, but you're nothing but a tool. "

Lu Shen's lips twisted into a slight smirk, his eyes deep and emotionless. He had heard these phrases before—too frequently. "You are incorrect," he stated, his tone low and icy, akin to the breath of a winter gale. "There is no authority greater than the desire to survive. " His blade shimmered in the moonlight as he moved forward, his actions perfect, effective. "I fight only for myself. "

The assassin charged ahead with a war cry, his sword directed straight at Lu Shen's heart. Yet, Lu Shen was already there, his blade blocking the attack with a force that caused the assassin to stumble back. The assassin's foot skidded on the wet ground, and in that brief moment of indecision, Lu Shen's sword struck true.

The assassin's breath halted in his throat as the blade sliced through his side. He stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. However, Lu Shen didn't relent. He surged onward, persistent, his blows coming quicker now. The assassin could scarcely defend himself. Every action was deliberate, each hit striking with deadly purpose.

"Survival is the sole reality," Lu Shen whispered as he hit once more, this time deep into the assassin's abdomen. The foe collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, his sword falling from his grasp. Lu Shen stood above him, the tip of his sword shining in the dim moonlight, its edge stained with blood.

For an instant, there was stillness. The only noise was the wind, rustling through the trees, as if the universe itself was pausing. Lu Shen remained there, motionless, as though the battle had never occurred. His expression was impassive, inscrutable, but his thoughts were anything but tranquil.

I've witnessed this before, he contemplated. This urgency, this desire for dominance, it's all the same. Ultimately, we are all merely striving to survive. And if that entails stepping over the lifeless bodies of others, then so be it.

The assassin's labored breaths grew quieter, weaker, until they ceased completely. Lu Shen's gaze lingered on the corpse for a moment longer, his thoughts far away. He cleaned his sword, the motion automatic, his actions smooth and practiced.

"Foolish," Lu Shen muttered quietly. "You never grasped it. It was never about dominance. It was about survival. "

He moved away, abandoning the assassin's body. The stillness of the courtyard enveloped him, the burden of his choices settling like a chilling shroud over his shoulders. For a fleeting moment, he sensed a flicker of something—something that felt out of place. Was it remorse? No. It was merely the awareness that there would perpetually be another adversary, another battle. His existence was one of shadows and violence, and there was no escape.

As he turned to depart, the moonlight illuminated his figure, casting an unsettling shadow against the stone walls. He had transformed into what the world had shaped him to be. Cold. Unyielding.

And yet, deep inside, concealed beneath thecold exterior, there was a yearning—a desire for something greater. Something he had previously experienced, but had ultimately misplaced.

However, that was a tale for a different occasion. For the moment, Lu Shen strolled away, vanishing into the darkness, his thoughts already centered on the upcoming phase, the next conflict.