Why ?

The grand dining hall of *Lanling* was a battlefield now. The once gleaming marble floors, polished to perfection, were marred with shattered glass, overturned chairs, and tables knocked out of place. The flickering lanterns overhead cast eerie shadows across the disarray.

The guests had long since fled, leaving only a few trembling workers to attend to the mess, though none dared to touch the bodies of the fallen attackers. The scent of spilled wine mingled with the dust in the air, creating an unsettling atmosphere.

It was hours later when the door to the restaurant creaked open again, cutting through the oppressive silence. Six figures stood in the doorway, their presence commanding and sharp, like hawks sweeping in for prey. They were not here for a simple investigation. They were from the great clans, their bloodlines known for their power and influence, feared for their ruthlessness.

Fei Yue, the leader of the group, took the first step inside. Her eyes, cold and unyielding, scanned the room. She was tall, her long black hair cascading like a waterfall down her back. Her robes, dark purple with gold embroidery, shimmered in the dim light, marking her as a member of one of the most prestigious clans in the realm. Despite her elegance, there was an undeniable air of danger surrounding her, a sharpness in her gaze that suggested she could cut through anyone who stood in her way.

Behind her, Shuang Xue, a younger woman with short, raven-black hair, stepped in silently. Her clothes were more modest than Fei Yue's, but the grace in her movements and the way her eyes flicked over the room suggested a quiet strength. She was a strategist—keenly intelligent and perceptive, always looking for the smallest detail that others might miss. Her icy blue eyes scanned the wreckage of the restaurant, not a hint of emotion on her face.

Hàn Bing, tall and broad-shouldered, took up position on the left side, his presence like a silent storm. His armor gleamed in the light, a mix of silver and jade, and his long hair was tied back into a neat braid. He was a warrior at heart, skilled in both the arts of combat and the more brutal side of investigation. He towered over the others, his sharp gaze never leaving the surroundings as he studied every corner of the room, as if searching for an invisible trace.

Next to him, Xiao Feng, a wiry man with pale skin and piercing dark eyes, exuded an air of mystery. His robes were black, embroidered with deep red thread that matched the hue of his intense stare. He was the tactician, the one who would uncover the deeper layers of any situation. His mind was sharp, always thinking two steps ahead, analyzing every word spoken, every movement made. His focus was unwavering as he walked through the room, his fingers brushing against a broken shard of porcelain on the floor, as if drawing knowledge from the smallest clues.

Behind them, Tianshu, a stoic man draped in the white robes of a healer, moved with purpose, his expression calm and serene. His face was smooth, his features delicate yet commanding respect. A man of few words, Tianshu was tasked with examining the physical remnants of the fight—he would be the one to determine if there was any information hidden within the wounds of the fallen or any lingering traces of energy from the attackers.

The group moved silently as a unit, their eyes flicking over the restaurant's interior, each sensing different elements of the crime scene.

"Start with the body," Fei Yue ordered, her voice calm but firm.

Hàn Bing, stepping forward, surveyed the fallen assailants. "They are all skilled in combat. It's clear this wasn't an ordinary raid," he murmured, his voice low. He bent down, examining the broken forms of the men who had been defeated so easily. "None of them seem to be from any of the common sects."

"You're right," Shuang Xue added, her eyes narrowing as she took a step closer. "They've been beaten too quickly—these aren't just ordinary fighters. They were defeated with precision, almost too quickly. Whoever did this is no ordinary foe. "

Fei Yue nodded, acknowledging Shuang Xue's words but offering no comment. Her eyes flicked over the wreckage. "We need to know who was behind this—and why."

Tianshu checked the bodies, and was stunned. " They aren't dead, but it would be very difficult for them to recover. There bones were shattered."

The group breathed deeply. They were all thinking —- Why didn't they kill them, but kept them barely alive?

Xiao Feng was already moving toward the center of the room, where the faintest shimmer caught his eye. He knelt, his fingers tracing a small, delicate pink petal on the floor, half-covered by a chair. His expression was unreadable, but his mind was already racing. "This…" He muttered, holding it up for everyone to see. "This is no ordinary petal."

Shuang Xue stepped closer, her eyes softening as she studied it. "A crimson flower?" she murmured. "A rare flower known only to them."

"I see…" Fei Yue's eyes flickered with interest. "So it's connected to them after all."

Tianshu, who had been silently examining the room, turned to them. "There are traces of unusual spiritual energy here," he said, his voice as gentle as ever, but with an edge of certainty. "It seems the attackers used a technique to mask their presence... but something remains."

"Good," Fei Yue replied, nodding. "Keep looking. Xiao Feng, do you think it's possible that someone used these petals to signal the attack?"

"Perhaps," Xiao Feng said, studying the petal further, before his gaze shifted toward the broken furniture. "But they wouldn't leave such a trace unless it was deliberate. They wanted us to know."

Fei Yue straightened, her decision made. "Tianshu, search the bodies for any other signs. Xiao Feng, Shuang Xue, question the workers. Hàn Bing and I will speak with the owner."

The team split into pairs, moving with practiced efficiency.

---

* * *

The restaurant owner, an elderly man with a trembling hand, was brought to Fei Yue and Hàn Bing. His once-proud posture had been broken, and his eyes were filled with fear. His clothes were stained, his hands still shaking from the aftermath of the attack.

"Tell us what happened," Fei Yue's voice was cold but not unkind.

The man swallowed, his gaze flicking nervously to the wreckage around him. "I… I don't know much… They came in so quickly, like shadows. The dancers were replaced so suddenly. One moment, they were performing, and then they just... vanished. They were all so graceful, so delicate... but the ones that replaced them—they were different."

"Different how?" Hàn Bing pressed, his tone urgent.

The old man flinched. "They... they moved like they were part of the wind. But there was something else, something mysterious in their movements. Their eyes… they wore silver masks. Not the usual kind."

"Did you see anything else? Anything unusual?" Fei Yue asked, narrowing her eyes.

The man hesitated, then finally spoke. "There was a pink petal... on the floor. I thought it was just a decoration at first, but when the fight started... it was everywhere. It seemed to fall from the dancers' robes. They had these flowers. But they were not ordinary flowers…"

Fei Yue's gaze sharpened. "Where are the workers who were here during the fight?"

The old man pointed to a door leading to the kitchen. "They're hiding back there, terrified."

Fei Yue nodded and turned to Hàn Bing. "Let's speak to the workers. The petals are the key."

As they entered the back, they found the workers huddled together, shaking. Two of them were holding each other, unable to speak, while others glanced at the pair with wide, terrified eyes.

"Stay calm," Fei Yue ordered. "We are here to understand what happened. No one will be harmed if you cooperate."

One of the workers, a young woman with dark eyes, stepped forward. "I... I don't know anything. I was just here to serve the food when the fight started. But I remember... I saw one of the dancers robe disappear, and underneath, she was wearing a white robe, so pure and clean. The same as the others. And the music—she didn't stop playing. Even when the fight broke out. I couldn't understand it."

Hàn Bing glanced at Fei Yue, whose expression softened, a flicker of recognition passing across her face.

"I see," Fei Yue said. "Thank you."

---

The investigation unfolded slowly but steadily. The workers, too, were questioned one by one. Each person gave a different detail, but they all led to the same conclusion: the dancers were not who they appeared to be.

Later that night, the tortured assassins were brought in, their limbs bound and their faces pale from blood loss and fear. Fei Yue stepped forward.

"Tell us why you attacked," she commanded, her voice low and dangerous. "And who sent you."

The assassins trembled, but after a few moments, one spoke.

"It was the Zhuan Tian Clan," he gasped. "They sent us to eliminate the people on the second floor. We were to make a statement."

Fei Yue's eyes narrowed. "And the dancers? Who were they?"

The assassin's eyes widened. "They were not dancers. They were *cultivators*—the women who replaced them were the real threat. They were here to protect the nobles, not kill them. We weren't supposed to—"

His words were cut off by the sharpness of Hàn Bing's hand on his throat. The assassin's last breath was a gurgle, his confession incomplete.

The room fell silent.

Fei Yue stepped back, her mind racing.

"The Zhuan Tian Clan," she murmured, her voice cold. "They are playing a dangerous game. And we must stop them before they strike again."