"Damn it!"
Gao Shan's rough curse echoed through the ruined courtyard behind Yaohua's house. The large man lay flat on his back, shirt torn away, chest heaving heavily. His body was covered in burns and slashes, skin raw and bruised. He stared up at the cloud-choked night sky—then burst out laughing, a hoarse, weary laugh that scraped his throat.
"Hahaha! Crazy… that was actually fun!" he rasped, slapping his bruised chest as if savoring the pain.
Flashes of his earlier battle replayed vividly in his mind—the white-winged Tengu, moving faster than sight, its twin blades whistling through the air. Every swing stirred gales sharp enough to cut bark from trees. Gao Shan had barely kept pace, his Shadow Qi carving black lines through the air to parry. But when the Tengu drew its shorter blade—and the weapon burst into blazing crimson flame—the fight turned savage.
Wind and fire exploded together, lighting the night like a storm. Trees burned; the earth itself split under their blows. Gao Shan had been thrown back again and again, but he'd endured—laughing amid the sparks. Now, even broken and scorched, his grin refused to fade.
"Tch… if that white-feathered bastard hadn't fled, I'd have snapped his neck myself!"
A few paces away, Gao Shui knelt with one knee down, bracing himself on his sword to keep from collapsing. His breath came hard and ragged. Blood streaked his temple as his mind seethed.
'Damn that Kuchisake-onna…' he thought bitterly. 'Cut them down and they still return. No matter how many times I destroyed them, their forms reformed like cursed mist.'
Footsteps approached softly through the wreckage. Mo Long emerged from the shadows, his hanfu torn in several places, sword dangling from his right hand. His eyes were sharp and steady, though exhaustion clung to his face.
"What happened here?" he asked flatly, gaze falling on the kneeling Gao Shui.
Gao Shui swallowed before speaking. "I fought three female spirits—Kuchisake-onna. They should've been mid-tier wraiths, easy to disperse, but… someone was feeding them qi from afar. No matter how many times I cut them down, they wouldn't die. It was like an endless well of energy."
A coarse laugh barked from the broken fence.
"Hah! Three weeping ghosts?" Gao Shan scoffed, sitting up with a hand over his bleeding abdomen. "If I had fought them, they'd have been shredded in seconds! Ugly spirits like that are nothing!"
"What did you just say?!" Gao Shui snapped, his patience breaking. He forced himself to his feet, gripping his sword tight.
"Are you deaf?!" Gao Shan shot back, voice full of mockery. "You fought crying women made of fog—I fought a winged monster with two swords! You think we're equals?!"
"Say that again, you—!"
"Enough."
Mo Long's voice sliced through their shouting like steel. One cold glance from him silenced them both, though their glares still lingered.
"Where are the creatures now? Did you finish them?" he asked evenly.
The two exchanged glances, hesitation thick between them. Gao Shui finally answered, voice low.
"I'm not sure. In the middle of the fight… they just vanished."
"Yeah," Gao Shan muttered, scratching at his bandaged arm. "That damned Tengu ran off. Must've been scared after feeling my power!"
Before his boasting could continue, Yaohua stepped out from the shattered doorway, walking slowly while supporting Hu Wei by the arm. The woman's red qipao was torn and stained with blood, her hair disheveled. Both of them looked utterly spent.
"That's enough, Gao Shan," Yaohua said softly but firmly. "Whoever summoned those things must be near death by now. Controlling four mid-tier spirits at once and sustaining them that long… only a madman would try it."
She gently lowered Hu Wei against what remained of the courtyard wall, then drew a small jade vial from her sleeve. Pouring a green liquid into a wooden cup, she pressed it to his lips.
"Drink," she murmured.
Hu Wei swallowed with effort, then exhaled shakily. His voice was hoarse, nearly a whisper—but every word struck clear.
"The tiger…" he began faintly. "The half-beast that attacked me earlier… was Hiroshi, the Head of Long Ya's Law Hall."
The entire courtyard fell silent. Every pair of eyes widened—even Mo Long's.
"Are you certain?" Mo Long asked slowly.
Hu Wei nodded weakly. "Without a doubt. I recognized his footwork—his claw patterns. But this time… he wore a crimson ring. It radiated an ominous qi. When it flared… his body changed—his muscles swelled, and his face… wasn't human anymore."
"Hah! So that masked man I fought earlier—it was him!" Gao Shan shouted. "I heard that explosion of energy and a tiger's roar during your battle. So it's true, that beast was Hiroshi!"
Hu Wei shot him a sharp look before continuing, his tone grave.
"He was working alongside the bearded man under mind control. I'm certain now—Hiroshi was acting under Haikun's command. And that ring…"
He paused, catching his breath. "That ring must have been a gift from Haikun himself."
At that name, the air seemed to thicken.
Yaohua froze, her expression dimming as old memories stirred within her.
"The red ring…" she whispered, almost to herself. Her eyes closed, lost in a painful recollection she clearly wished she could forget. Then suddenly—her eyes flew open, breath catching in her throat.
"I know…" she said softly.
Everyone turned toward her.
"I think I know who the tao was—the one who summoned those spirits tonight."
The faint wind carried the scent of smoke and blood across the courtyard. The lantern hanging by the terrace swayed, its light flickering over Yaohua's face. Her expression darkened, yet within her eyes burned a fierce, certain gleam—a mix of sorrow, rage, and cold resolve.
"That person… isn't a stranger."
"Who?" Mo Long's voice was calm, almost too calm.
All eyes fixed on Yaohua, standing beside the cracked wall, her face pale beneath the moonlight. She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether her words should even be spoken.
Finally, she said quietly, "I know someone who wears a red ring on his finger."
Her gaze dropped to the dark, broken ground. Her voice grew faint.
"Sometimes, late at night, I'd see him sitting alone on his porch… caressing that ring while muttering strange chants I couldn't understand. From that ring, I felt something—dark, faint, but terrifying. The same kind of qi I sensed when Haikun first began his Tao training."
Mo Long's eyes narrowed. "Who is it?"
"Physician Yuto," Yaohua whispered. "The old healer who was once my teacher… the man I trusted the most."
The words fell like thunder in the night.
Gao Shui stiffened. Gao Shan, who had just managed to stand, froze in disbelief.
"That old doctor?!" he barked. "Impossible! He's famous across all of Long Ya! People travel from miles away just to be treated by him! He even tends to orphans and beggars without asking a single coin!"
Yaohua's lips curled into a bitter smile, her eyes glistening.
"That's what I thought too. He was so kind to me… kinder than a father. I always believed he was family." Her breath quivered, voice trembling on the edge of heartbreak. "But it turns out… he was watching me all along. He was the one killing every man who dared get close to me."
Her eyes filled with tears as flashes of memory—his advice, his gentle lectures, the silver he'd given her—played cruelly in her mind.
'How foolish I was,' she thought bitterly. 'No wonder he knew so much about Tao techniques…'
Silence spread thick through the night. The wind whispered through the ruins, carrying the acrid scent of ash and blood.
Then—
Footsteps echoed from the rear path.
From the darkness emerged three men carrying small torches, their faces grim and tense.
"Yaohua!" cried the old man with a white beard leading them. "We heard a terrible commotion! The walls shook, flames were seen from afar—what in the heavens happened here?"
A portly man with a thick mustache at his side snapped angrily, "I told you this woman was a curse! Her husband was insane, and now she's no better! Look at this mess!" He jabbed a trembling finger toward the shattered pavilion. "My wall's cracked, my tiles destroyed! You think I won't demand compensation, Yaohua?!"
Before she could answer, Mo Long stepped forward, calm and steady.
"I'll compensate you, sir," he said politely, though his tone was cold as steel.
But the mustached man only grew more furious.
"And who are you supposed to be, huh? Her new lover? Lucky you're not dead already! Take this witch away before—"
His words cut off in an instant.
Something cold touched the skin of his neck.
A curved blade glimmered under the torchlight.
"Watch your tongue, old man…" Mo Long's voice was low and eerily calm, but his gaze was sharp enough to slice through bone.
"I'll repay you tenfold for your damages. But if that mouth of yours keeps moving, I can't guarantee your head will stay where it is."
Cold sweat streamed down the man's forehead. He swallowed hard, lowering his head quickly.
"M-my apologies… I-I spoke out of anger…"
The old man with the white beard hurriedly intervened, raising both hands.
"Please, young master, calm yourself! We mean no harm—only concern. None of us seek trouble here…"
As the tension began to ease, the third man—who had remained silent until now—finally stepped forward.
He was much younger than the others, perhaps twenty-five, and carried himself with composed respect. Bowing deeply, he clasped his fists in a proper gongshou salute.
"Sir Mo Long," he said respectfully, his tone steady. "I saw you during the qualification trials a few days ago. Your technique that day left everyone in awe. But tonight…" His gaze swept over the ruins around them, "…seeing all this destruction, I'm even more certain—you're a true warrior."
He grew serious, taking a cautious step closer. "Sir, forgive my intrusion, but I must tell you something. On my way here, I saw a man staggering down the road, covered in blood. I recognized him—it was Physician Yuto. He looked badly injured, yet he kept walking north… toward the forest. I wanted to help, but I feared there might still be enemies lurking nearby."
Silence fell again. Only the faint crackle of torches broke the still air.
Mo Long's eyes sharpened. "Exactly where did you see him?"
"In the northern alley, not far from the bamboo bridge," the young man replied quickly. "It looked like he was heading into the woods."
The corner of Mo Long's lips curved upward—just slightly. A glint flickered in his gaze, calm yet chilling.
'This is my chance,' he thought.
He turned to Yaohua. Their eyes met for only a heartbeat, but it was enough—no words were needed. Yaohua gave a small, deliberate nod.
"Very well," Mo Long said quietly, his tone calm but edged with meaning. Sliding his sword back into its sheath, he looked toward the north. "In that case… I'll go and 'help' him."
Yet behind that faint smile, something darker gleamed in his eyes—cold, focused, and merciless.
It was not the look of a man setting out to rescue a healer… but of a hunter who had finally found the trail of his prey.