Chapter 13

The night was thick with tension.

Shen Tian sat cross-legged in the shadows of his dwelling, steadying his breath. The Phantom Veins Sutra hummed within him, weaving the scarce energy of the slums into his battered meridians.

Progress was slow—but undeniable.

He could feel it.

The ember of his past power flickered stronger.

Still weak. Still fragile.

But growing.

Jiang Hao paced near the entrance. "I don't like this."

Shen Tian opened his eyes. "You've said that already."

Jiang Hao scowled. "And I'll say it again. House Zhao's been too quiet."

He wasn't wrong.

After Zhao Kun's humiliation, after the mercenaries failed to crush Shen Tian, House Zhao should have retaliated immediately.

But days passed.

No assassins. No open attacks.

Just silence.

Shen Tian knew better than to take that as a sign of mercy.

House Zhao wasn't ignoring him.

They were preparing.

Midnight.

A distant bell tolled—low and ominous.

Jiang Hao tensed. "That's the east district alarm."

Shen Tian stood. "They've made their move."

Jiang Hao swore under his breath. "We don't even know if it's about you."

Shen Tian gave him a look.

Jiang Hao sighed. "Fine. It's about you."

They moved swiftly through the slums, sticking to the shadows.

The east district was in chaos. Fires flickered in the distance. People ran in every direction—some fleeing, others drawn to the spectacle.

At the center of it all…

A single figure stood in the torchlight.

A man draped in dark robes, his face hidden beneath a silver mask.

Not Xue Lan.

Someone else.

But the presence he exuded…

It was suffocating.

A force beyond what should exist in the slums.

Jiang Hao exhaled sharply. "That's not some street thug."

Shen Tian studied the masked figure. No wasted movement. No hesitation. A warrior—one accustomed to death.

Then, the man spoke.

"Shen Tian."

The name echoed through the silent street.

A challenge.

A declaration.

Jiang Hao whispered. "We should leave."

Shen Tian stepped forward. "No."

Jiang Hao swore again.

The masked figure tilted his head slightly. "Brave."

Shen Tian stopped a few paces away. "Who sent you?"

The man did not answer.

Instead, he drew his blade.

A single, deliberate motion.

And the killing intent that followed was suffocating.

The first strike came without warning.

Shen Tian barely sidestepped, feeling the wind pressure slice past his cheek. The ground where he had stood cracked beneath the force.

Fast.

Too fast.

His body still wasn't ready for a prolonged fight.

But retreat was not an option.

The masked warrior lunged again, blade gleaming under the firelight.

Shen Tian exhaled.

And countered.

He moved with precision—not matching strength with strength, but using every gap, every hesitation.

His Phantom Veins Sutra allowed him to adapt.

His past experience allowed him to anticipate.

Their blades clashed.

The force sent sparks flying, illuminating the narrow street.

The warrior's movements were honed, precise. No wasted effort. No reckless attacks.

Shen Tian mirrored him, adjusting his rhythm—each strike, each evasion calculated.

It wasn't a contest of brute strength.

It was a battle of control.

And Shen Tian…

Was winning.

The warrior hesitated.

Just for a fraction of a second.

But it was enough.

Shen Tian struck—not with his blade, but with a shift in energy.

A feint.

A step inside the warrior's guard.

And then—

A single strike to the wrist.

The blade fell.

The warrior staggered back.

Shen Tian caught the weapon mid-air.

And pointed it at his opponent's throat.

Silence.

Then, the warrior laughed.

Low. Amused.

Not the reaction of a defeated man.

"You're better than I expected."

Shen Tian did not lower the blade. "Who sent you?"

The warrior exhaled, gaze sharp beneath the mask.

Then, he simply stepped back.

Disengaging.

"Consider this a warning."

With that, he turned—and vanished into the night.

Leaving Shen Tian with more questions than answers.

Jiang Hao emerged from the shadows. "That wasn't normal."

"No." Shen Tian sheathed the stolen blade. "It wasn't."

Jiang Hao hesitated. "What now?"

Shen Tian watched the fading embers of the burning district.

"…Now, we prepare."

Because this was just the beginning.

House Zhao had made its move.

And soon…

Shen Tian would make his.