The dawn rose over the Plains like a blade unsheathed, cutting the dark.Mist curled above the marshland, glinting faintly under the cold morning sun.The march was long — three hundred men in armor, banners swaying gently, their boots drumming in rhythm with the wind.
At the head rode Han Tianci, his black cloak fluttering behind him like a restless flame and his hat hiding his fierce eyes. His gaze was calm, fixed ahead.
Beside him, a new comrade had joined their ranks — the Southern Prince, a young noble with metal-gold armor and a smile too bright for his path. Rumor said he'd abandoned court life after witnessing Han Tianci's duel against the Northern Demons. Since then, he'd become his most loyal No.1 admirer — calling himself a student of the Dark Heaven.
"Senior Han," the prince said eagerly, "they say you once fought twenty men at once and left not a drop of blood on your sword. Is it true?"
Han Tianci's expression didn't change. He simply adjusted the reins of his horse and said,"Let me give you a poem instead."
Through endless struggle with the invincible,
The blade is refined to perfection —Yet remains unsullied by blood.
Steel that cuts the wind leaves no scar upon it;When strength meets strength, both vanish like clouds.Only stillness endures in the heart of the storm.
A blade that moves with thought alone,Cuts neither man nor air —Yet all things fall apart before it.
To strike without hate, to win without thought —Such is the blade that sees itself.The warrior's heart reflects the sky,And within that mirror, there is no foe.
The prince grinned awkwardly, nodding."Yes… yes, of course, profound words indeed…"
But the moment was brief — for the rhythm of their steps faltered.
A scout approached swiftly, dropping to one knee."Leader Han! Someone's following us."
Han Tianci didn't turn.He'd known from the beginning.
"I know," he said simply. His voice was light, like someone commenting on the weather.The men exchanged looks.
"Then… should we intercept them?"
He shook his head."No need. Let her follow. I'm curious what she intends to do."
The prince frowned. "Her?"
A murmur spread among the soldiers.
Even the prince stiffened.
Han Tianci's tone dropped lower, almost amused."Two shadows chasing each other under the same sun. Sometimes it's better to watch how long this farce continues."
And so they rode on.Days became weeks.The woman — Ningyue — trailed them still, keeping her distance, her veil fluttering in the wind. She moved like a ghost between trees and boulders, light-footed and sharp. But even she felt it — the presence behind her, following wherever she went.
Once, in the dead of night, she turned sharply, her hairpin gleaming under the moonlight.The shadow behind her stopped — then melted into darkness.She could not see its face, only feel the intent — a scout.
For nearly a month, this strange pursuit continued — one shadow following another, trailing Ningyue through mountain passes and dark valleys.
During that time, the Southern Prince saw the martial technique of Han Tianci unfold with his own eyes.
They fought bandits in the Marsh, demons in the abandoned temples of Misty Valley, and even ghosts that fed on human emotions.Each time, Han Tianci's sword danced — light as breeze, sharp as dawn. He struck not with fury but with precision. When others would falter, he simply moved through death like mist through reeds.
Even the demons that were known for their madness fell a step back when he drew his blade.
"Unbelievable…" the prince whispered after one battle. "It's as if the world itself fears his sword."
But one evening, as the campfires flickered and the soldiers rested, the prince approached again — this time quieter, more hesitant.
"Senior Han," he said softly, "may I ask… this man they speak of in silence — Li Qiong. Who was he?"
The laughter, the conversation, even the crackle of the fire seemed to fade.Han Tianci fell silent.
His expression didn't change, but his eyes reflected something distant — like moonlight on still water.
After a long moment, he said,"He was a…"
The prince waited.
Han Tianci continued, his voice softer now."Demon. He doesn't live in the same world as we do.
"He sees life and death as a single breath.To him, mercy and cruelty are threads of the same weave.He kills men, women, and children — and calls it balance, like how we slaughter goats and chickens."
The silence thickened. The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances.
"He's not without feeling," Han went on, "he simply feels differently.To him, a beggar's death or an emperor's death means the same.In his eyes, the world is a field to be harvested —and every soul, just a crop waiting for its season."
"Li Qiong is no man.He's calamity given flesh, cruelty given will,evil granted blood, and hell itself given form."
He is someone who threw a just-born child into burning oil, just so he could satisfy his revenge.
Finally, the prince asked,"And where is he now?"
The wind carried the silence.
In the distance, Ningyue stood on a ridge, watching them.
Han Tianci looked that way and smiled faintly.