Chapter 7 — Beneath the Quiet Faces
Hollow Thorn wore its silence like a mask.
During the day, the town grumbled with life—traders peddled essence-salted meat, blacksmiths shouted over molten forges, bounty hunters wandered between taverns, and wandering cultivators shared rumors in quiet corners.
But Kael knew better.
Beneath the noise, beneath the drunken laughter and clinking steel, something simmered. Eyes followed him wherever he walked. And not all of them were cautious. Some were calculating.
He spent three days in the outskirts of town, training in the broken shrine. The shrine floor had been scorched by some long-forgotten battle, but the spiritual veins beneath it still flowed with faint earth and wind essence. It was not much—but for a cultivator beginning to build his foundation, it was enough.
He sat cross-legged at dawn, absorbing essence from the air, allowing his body and soul to refine it. The Imperial Dark Star scripture churned slowly inside him, pulling the darkness essence from shadowed corners, from deep tree roots, from the cold of morning mist.
His beast companion—shadow-horned and still maturing—rested nearby, curled protectively, ever watchful.
---
On the fourth evening, Kael returned to the tavern. He needed food, information… and to confirm a suspicion.
The tavern buzzed with low music and dull laughter. Behind the counter, the old barkeep served half-sour stew and smoked rice. Kael took a quiet seat in the corner.
Then, he saw him again.
The older man who had tried to buy his beast—the one with the too-wide smile and wine-reeking breath. He sat at a central table with a pair of new companions: a tall man wrapped in crimson silk, and a pale woman with long nails, dressed like a wandering nun.
Their eyes flicked toward Kael—once, then again.
The woman's gaze lingered.
Kael drank slowly.
They didn't move that night.
But the next one?
They struck.
---
It was near midnight.
Kael was returning from the shrine, walking along the narrow dirt road near the edge of Hollow Thorn. His beast walked beside him, calm but alert. The moonlight barely filtered through the mist that clung to the treetops like lingering breath.
And then—it vanished.
The light. The air. The sound.
> A formation.
A ring of talismans flared to life, forming a faint blue dome that cut off all external noise. A sound suppression trap—basic, but deadly in the right hands.
Kael stopped.
Three figures emerged from the brush. The tall man in crimson. The pale woman with the nun's robes. And another—a masked figure holding a jagged saber.
They said nothing.
But their intent poured like venom.
Kael's grip tightened on his dagger.
He didn't speak either.
The first attacker moved—fast.
Kael sidestepped, dragging his foot with a quick twist—Shadow Step. He reappeared just beside the masked figure, who turned too late.
Kael's blade found the soft gap beneath the ribs—Flicker Point.
One down.
The woman hissed, forming hand seals—dark threads of essence forming into a claw. It struck toward Kael's chest.
He took the hit—deliberately rolling back with the blow—and skidded into the shadows beneath a tree.
> Now!
He emerged from the side.
The second movement of the Phantom Dagger Arts — Ghost Vein Curve — swept low, slicing into her calf and severing muscle.
She screamed.
The man in crimson, seeing the tide turn, fled.
Kael didn't pursue.
Not yet.
---
The next morning, Kael returned to the tavern early.
He took the same corner seat.
By noon, the man in crimson returned, smug smile plastered across his face—as though nothing had happened.
Until he saw Kael waiting for him.
The man froze.
Kael stood slowly, eyes calm, but hard as black iron.
"Send more," Kael said coldly. "If you must. But next time… send better."
He turned and walked out.
---
That night, Hollow Thorn slept uneasily.
Whispers spread.
A newcomer had taken three lives in the silence of night.
And still walked the next morning with calm steps and unbothered breath.
Kael remained in the shrine for two more days. He didn't run. He cultivated, trained, and sharpened what he had begun. He reached the bare beginnings of Small Achievements in the Phantom Dagger Arts, now confident in using the first two movements without hesitation.
---
On the seventh day, he stood at the gates of Hollow Thorn, staring at the open road.
Behind him, the forest. The dead. The shadows.
Ahead, only dust and uncertainty.
His beast nudged his arm.
Kael exhaled and walked forward.
He didn't know where he was going yet. He only knew that each place would test him.
But if this was the beginning…
Then the world had much to fear from how far he might go.