In the sleepy town of Talim state,under the dark canvas of night ,a sense of unease settled over the residents.Doors were bottled shut,and windows barred as if the very darkness itself might seep into their homes.
The streets,once bustling with life lay deserted.
But in the silence,there was a lone figure of a young woman perched on a rooftop .Her slender fingers danced upon the strings of her lute,weavings melancholic melody that seemed to match the rhythm of the crickets.
Her raven tresses cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night, and her attire, though simple, spoke of a life beyond the ordinary. Her eyes, pools of deep brown, seemed lost in thought, as if the music was a mere reflection of the turmoil within.
Despite the warnings of the townsfolk, who whispered tales of a demon that roamed the shadows, she refused to be swayed. Her guards, two burly men with faces etched with concern, watched over her with hawk-like vigilance, their eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of danger.
Meanwhile, in another side of Talim State, Prince Khane, now known as Khailian, shared a meal with a fisherman and his family.
The fisherman's wife, a plump woman with a warm smile, ladled steaming soup into bowls, her eyes shining with a mix of exhaustion and love. But as they sat down to eat, a sense of unease crept over her, as she realized that one of their young daughters, a tiny girl with short raven hair was missing.
Panic set in as the fisherman's wife wondered if a demon had taken her daughter. Prince Khane noticed her distress and promised to find the girl. He stood up, dagger in hand, courtesy of the grateful fisherman, and walked out into the dark, silent streets.
As Khailian ventured deeper, he yelled out the girl's name, but his voice was met with an unsettling silence. Suddenly, he sensed he was being followed.
He tried to summon his essence, but his outstretched hand felt nothing. Confusion and panic gripped him as he realized his imagination had deceived him – he had no essence to wield.
Desperate, Khailian attempted to transcend as he imagined, but his efforts resulted in mere jumping. He knew he was in trouble. With the demon closing in, he began to run through the streets, the sound of footsteps behind him growing louder.
Glancing right, he saw a figure in a black cloak running on the rooftops, pursuing him. Khailian's eyes widened in fear, knowing he was no match for a demon or anyone with essence.
As Prince Khane looked ahead, the figure in the black cloak landed in front of him, its face hidden and the cloak's edges billowing in the wind.
Khane closed his eyes, as if summoning a power, but before he could react, a swift kick struck his stomach, sending him flying backward. He crashed into a wheelbarrow and fell to the ground, gasping in pain.
Still recovering, Khane struggled to stand up, but the cloaked figure approached him, its pace unhurried.
Khane pointed his dagger at the figure, trying to appear braver than he felt.
The figure laughed, its voice dripping with amusement. "Is that what you want to use as defense to attack a demon?" it said, pulling down its hood to reveal a young man with black hair, around the same age as Khane.
"If you're not a demon, who are you?" Khane asked, trying to hide his fear.
The young man chuckled. "Looks like you've never encountered a demon before. I thought you were one of those brave souls trying to capture one. Guess I was wrong. So, what's the name of this fool standing before me?"
Prince Khane ignored him and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the deserted streets.
"Hey!, you might need someone to be with you or you might get taken by the demon. You are not even a cultivator," Arnin said, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and concern.
He walked forward to step beside Prince Khane, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity in the dim light.
"Since you can't say your name, I'll tell you mine. My name is Arnin. In a few years' time, I'll be popular. I'll be one of the top cultivators." Arnin's voice dripped with confidence, his words painting a picture of a future filled with power and recognition.
"You can be my disciple now if you want. I tell you, you will also be popular, so tell me your name now."
Arnin's gaze seemed to bore into Prince Khane's soul, as if daring him to refuse the offer. "Look at some powerful cultivators like Nameless, he didn't start small and he wasn't idling around. Fighting with bad people and demons, look at his popularity.
Everyone in all the states knows him, who doesn't know him? How can one not know him? Is the person living under the Rock?" Arnin's words tumbled out in a passionate torrent, his enthusiasm infectious.
Prince Khane cut him off, his voice firm but laced with a hint of irritation. "You talk too much. Let me focus, I need to find someone." He continued walking, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the missing girl.
"Shh, can you hear that lute?" Arnin asked, stopping in his tracks. Prince Khane halted beside him, straining his ears to listen. The sound was faint, but unmistakable.
"You might not know, but I've always come out at night," Arnin said, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and unease. "Every night, I hear this tune, but it's usually a flute.
And every night I hear this tune, a dead person is found the next day on the lake. My intuition tells me the person playing this is the river demon."
Arnin unsheathed his sword, its blade glinting in the dim light. "Gotta go. Find a safe place to stay," he said, before transcending to the top of a nearby roof with an effortless leap.
Prince Khane watched in awe, his mind struggling to comprehend Arnin's incredible skill. He imagined himself performing such a feat, but knew it was far beyond his capabilities.
As Arnin disappeared into the night, Prince Khane was left alone in the deserted street. He continued to call out the fisherman's daughter's name, his voice echoing off the buildings. Suddenly, he spotted a girl lying on the road ahead.
"Miss, are you alright?" he yelled, rushing towards her. But the girl didn't respond, her body motionless. Prince Khane's heart quickened as he approached her, his senses on high alert.
Just as Prince Khane was about to reach the girl on the ground, a sudden blast of energy sent him flying backward. "Don't go closer, that's a demon!" a young woman with long, white hair warned, standing in front of him. Despite her youthful appearance, her eyes gleamed with a fierce inner strength.
"You can thank me later, but stand back," she said, using her energy to push Prince Khane farther away from the danger. Then, she turned to face the demon, her gaze fierce and unyielding.
"Who disturbs my meal time?" the demon lady growled, rising to her feet. Her hair cascaded around her face like a dark waterfall, obscuring her features.
"It's me!" the white-haired girl declared, unsheathing her sword from the sheath on her back. The blade instantly frosted over, and she charged towards the demon with a fierce battle cry.