Chapter 96: The Watchers in the Shadow

The moon hung low over the Silverwind Grove, casting a ghostly light across the field of quiet stone markers. Beneath the largest tree, gnarled with age and wrapped in threads of silver moss, Kai stood alone before a freshly laid grave. No incense. No candles. Just earth and silence.

Elder Kong's name had been etched with reverence into the stone—simple, unadorned, yet impossibly heavy.

Kai's knuckles were pale from gripping the hilt of his sword. The hilt trembled, not from fear, but from the storm coiled behind his ribs. Grief was not new to him. But this grief was different—it was soaked in guilt.

"I should have been there," he whispered.

The wind offered no comfort.

Elder Kong had raised him from boyhood, taught him the ways of metal cultivation, and tempered his impulses with the kind of wisdom that was only earned through lifetimes. Now that voice was gone, snuffed out by schemes that reached farther than Kai had imagined.

It wasn't just the loss of a master.

It was the loss of an anchor.

And in that void, darker thoughts had begun to form, thoughts about Han Long.

The memory of Han's transformation gnawed at him: the surging Qi tainted by something unnatural, the gleam in his eyes not of ambition but of hunger. Something in him had changed—no, had been twisted.

The sound of soft footsteps on moss drew Kai from his thoughts. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.

Yin Shuang approached in silence, a gust of lilac-scented wind trailing behind her. Her crimson robe fluttered slightly, but her eyes—always calm, always watching—held no pretense tonight.

"You chose a quiet place," she said, voice low.

Kai nodded. "He deserved peace."

Yin said nothing for a moment, then stepped beside him, hands clasped before her. Together they looked down at Elder Kong's grave, the silence between them thick with unspoken truths.

"I trusted Han," she said quietly.

Kai exhaled sharply. "I know. And so did I."

"But?"

"There's something wrong. Something… off. Everything points to one terrifying possibility."

Yin glanced at him.

Kai continued, his tone grave. "The Void Realm is a cage. And inside it lies the Blood Demon."

He turned toward her. "And if Han unlocks that realm…"

"He won't do it intentionally," Yin said. "He's rash, but not suicidal."

Kai's eyes darkened. "That's what worries me. Someone's guiding him. He might not even know it."

Yin remained still, processing.

Kai's gaze turned back to the grave. "I went back to the metal cultivation chamber after… after everything. To meditate. I needed clarity."

"And did you find it?"

"In a way," Kai replied, his voice low but steady. He held Yin's gaze, the firelight flickering in the depths of his eyes. "The chamber didn't give me the portal's location. But it gave me something else—a technique. One capable of detecting fluctuations in dimensional resonance. It senses the very tremor of reality bending… like the ripple that follows when a Void Portal is breached."

Yin's brow lifted slightly. "And you believe Han will attempt it?"

Kai's expression darkened, the weight of certainty behind his words. "In fifteen days, the Blood Moon will rise. A rare convergence—when the demonic current peaks and the boundary between realms thins. If he's planning to open the gate, that's when it'll happen."

He paused, then added, "I could summon my shock troops. March on him with overwhelming force. Seal the land in iron and discipline. But…"

He looked away, just for a moment.

"I'd rather do it quietly."

Yin studied him. "You want to give him a chance."

Kai nodded. "Despite what he's becoming… I believe there's still a part of him that remembers who he was."

Yin's eyes softened, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them.

"Then I'll come with you," she said.

Kai gave a small nod. "No one else can know. Not yet."

They stood side by side as the wind stirred the trees again, whispering secrets to the night.