Lin Yun remained in the cave long after the mysterious woman had disappeared. Her words lingered in his mind.
*"You're being watched."*
By who? And for what reason? He had no ties to powerful sects, no divine lineage. He was just a young master from a declining martial family—one whose cultivation had been crippled.
Yet, somehow, he had caught the attention of **unknown forces**.
But for now, he had no answers. **He needed to grow stronger.**
---
After a few more days of training and stabilizing his Qi, Lin Yun decided to leave the mountain cave. His journey was far from over, and he needed resources—medicinal herbs, weapons, and more knowledge on martial arts.
As he traveled through the forest, he came across an **abandoned temple**. Time had long eroded its structure, but remnants of its former glory remained—carvings on the stone pillars, faded paintings of martial warriors, and an eerie silence that sent chills down his spine.
Something **called to him**.
He stepped forward, pushing aside the heavy doors, and was greeted by dust and decay. Yet at the very center of the temple, resting on an altar, was an **ancient manual**, untouched by time.
Lin Yun approached cautiously. The cover bore no title, but as he reached out, a faint warmth spread through his fingertips.
The moment he touched it—
**Boom!**
A surge of energy rushed into his mind, filling his consciousness with fragments of forgotten techniques, whispers of an era long past.
*"The Art of the Drifting Shadow."*
Lin Yun gasped. The technique described within was unlike anything he had seen before. It wasn't just a footwork technique—it combined **stealth, illusion, and evasion**, making the user as elusive as mist, impossible to track or predict.
A perfect counter to those stronger than him.
His eyes gleamed. **This… this was exactly what he needed.**
---
Just as he secured the manual, a killing intent surged from outside the temple.
Lin Yun's expression darkened. **Someone's here.**
He quickly hid the manual inside his robes and turned to face the entrance.
A group of **black-robed men** stood there, their faces obscured by masks. The leader, a tall figure with a scar running down his arm, spoke in a low voice.
"Hand over the manual."
Lin Yun's grip tightened around his sword.
He had no intention of surrendering something **so valuable**.