Chapter 32: The Shadow’s Gambit

The Demonic Grove was a living tomb, its air thick with the rot of decaying leaves and the whispers of unseen horrors. Ancient trees loomed like skeletal sentinels, their gnarled branches clawing at a sky choked by swirling shadows. Beneath them, the Celestial Virtue Sect disciples huddled around an ancient stone marker, its weathered runes glowing faintly in the gloom. Their voices, hushed but eager, cut through the humid silence; a discordant hymn of greed and naivety.

Zhang Yan watched from the darkness, his breath still, his shadow coiled like a serpent. "Patience", he reminded himself. "This was not a hunt for glory, but a harvest".

He activated the Elusive Shadow Step, and the world fractured. His body, a fleeting phantom blurred by the grove's oppressive gloom, drifted silently toward his first mark; a young disciple bent over as if relieving himself, eyes ceaselessly scanning the darkened area. The dagger slid between the boy's ribs like a sigh. The victim crumpled, his choked gasp swallowed by the night. His shadow twitched once, then slithered into Zhang Yan's own, a thread of qi weaving into the Devouring Nine Shadows' hunger.

Next, he found his second mark; a middle-aged disciple whose eyes darted nervously at every rustle of leaves. With clinical precision, Zhang Yan's dagger slid slowly into the man's kidney, a swift hand clamped over his mouth as his qi sputtered like a dying flame before dissolving into the void.

For a time, the grove seemed to cooperate. The phantom continued to moved unseen, his kills swift and soundless. The number of Celestial Virtue disciples dwindled; their hushed debates giving way to fragmented murmurs of unease.

"Where's Junior Brother Li?" a woman whispered, her blade trembling in her grip.

"Probably wandered off; fool's always been reckless," another hissed, though his knuckles whitened around his sword hilt.

Then a sharp-featured youth froze, his eyes widening at a flicker of movement. "There!" he screamed, his voice cracking.

Chaos erupted. Swords clattered from scabbards; talismans flared to life, casting jagged, erratic shadows. In that moment, Zhang Yan's phantom-like form dissolved into smoke, leaving him alone in the clearing...a specter emerging from the void.

"Time's up," he said, his voice colder than the grove's stagnant air.

The disciples lunged in a frenzy, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Zhang Yan met them with lethal precision. His Ashura's Demonic Fist ignited, his fists wreathed in crimson flames. A sword aimed at his throat shattered as his fist intercepted the strike, the assailant's wrist snapping like dry twig. His counterblow drove into another man's chest with a wet crunch; as the stolen qi surged through him, his shadow melded seamlessly into his, its taste burning and addictive.

"They preach virtue", he thought, sidestepping a wild, desperate strike, "where's that virtue now?".

A woman hurled a entry-level low-tier golden sparrow talisman, its light searing the darkness as five sparrows, flickering with a metallic golden luster, materialized in its wake. Zhang Yan's shadow lashed out, multiple tendrils smothering each burst of light. She stumbled back in shock...too late. His hand closed around her throat, and as her fear blossomed, her qi drained into him; sweet, bright, and fleeting.

The last disciple, the sharp-featured youth, charged with a guttural cry. Zhang Yan pivoted; the youth's sword grazed his ribs before embedding itself in a nearby tree trunk. Frozen, the youth's eyes locked on Zhang Yan's impassive face.

"P-please…" the plea died on his lips as Zhang Yan's fist closed around his heart...literally.

When the grove finally fell silent, only the stench of blood and scorched earth remained. Standing amidst the carnage, Zhang Yan surveyed the devastation; his shadow bloated and writhing around his legs, whispering of stolen strength and power unbound.

"Weakness masquerading as virtue", he mused, wiping gore from his hands. "How predictable".

Turning toward the ancient stone marker; its runes now dull and lifeless, he knew the secret of the grotto heaven would wait. After looting the bodies, he cast one last glance at the marker before melting back into the shadows, the grove's whispered chorus of approval echoing in the darkness...