Chapter 11: Blood and Shadows
The forest was alive with whispers, the wind weaving through the ancient trees like an unseen hand brushing across taut strings. The air was thick with the scent of earth and decay, and the distant howls of wild animals blended with the rustling of leaves underfoot. In the darkness, the forest felt alive—breathing, waiting.
Li Jian and Li Xuan walked at the rear of the slavers' caravan, their bodies tense beneath their new uniforms, dark and fitted for stealth. Around them, the slavers moved with silent efficiency, their faces shadowed, their intentions unspoken. The caravan was no ordinary group of merchants. Iron Eagle slavers operated on the black market, selling lives as easily as they traded weapons or forbidden treasures. But this job wasn't about the slaves. It was about survival. It was about proving their worth to Bo Xiāo.
Li Jian's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the darkened woods ahead. His breath formed faint puffs of mist in the cold night air, but he barely noticed. They had been tasked with protecting the caravan from an attack—an attack that everyone knew was coming. Bo Xiāo had made it clear that this was their first test. Fail, and they wouldn't live to see the next one.
Li Xuan walked beside him, his steps silent, his eyes narrowed in thought. He had already positioned his throwing knives within easy reach, the cool steel a comforting weight against his body. The tension in the air was palpable, as though the forest itself held its breath, waiting for the violence that was sure to come.
"This feels wrong," Li Xuan murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
Li Jian nodded, his face grim. "It's too quiet. We've been walking for hours, and nothing's happened."
Ahead of them, the caravan leader—a bulky man with a patchwork of scars across his face—rode on horseback, his eyes flicking nervously toward the trees. He knew what was coming, too. The Iron Eagle Gang had enemies, and those enemies wouldn't hesitate to strike. That's what the brothers were here for.
Two years earlier…
The Mud Lotus District was a pit of filth and scheming, but at its heart, there was something far worse—a web of power that connected the leaders of the five most dangerous gangs, each one named after a predator, each one controlling a piece of the black market that thrived in the district. The five gang leaders were known as the Five Demons, and Bo Xiāo was the youngest of them all.
The five of them had met in secret, deep in the slums, in the basement of an abandoned opium den. The room was dimly lit, the stench of smoke and sweat clinging to the walls like a second skin. The leaders sat around a low table, their faces barely visible in the haze of incense, but their presence was unmistakable.
Bo Xiāo, even at 12 years old, was already a looming figure—a mountain of muscle wrapped in a gold and jade Hanfu, his bear-like physique both a symbol of his power and a warning. He leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes observing the others with quiet calculation.
Across from him sat Ma Lan, the leader of the Silent Viper Gang, a man so thin and wiry that his bones seemed to protrude from his skin. His eyes were always half-lidded, as though he found the world too dull to engage with, but his words were venomous, each one laced with hidden threats.
Beside him was Zhao Feng, leader of the Crimson Serpent Gang. He was short but unnervingly fast, his body sinewy and compact, with a penchant for daggers. His face was permanently twisted into a smug grin, as though he were always on the verge of laughter—at someone else's misfortune.
Then there was Wei Guo, leader of the Iron Rhino Gang, a man of immense size, his body a mass of fat and muscle. He moved slowly, but his strength was legendary. Wei Guo ruled his territory with an iron fist, crushing any opposition beneath his bulk.
Finally, there was Jin Yue, leader of the Silver Wolf Gang, a slender, elegant woman with a deadly grace. Her beauty was deceptive, hiding the fact that she was as ruthless as any of the men in the room. Her wolfish smile rarely left her face, and her eyes gleamed with predatory hunger.
"We've kept the black market running smoothly," Ma Lan had said, his voice soft and oily. "But the BloodCrow Sect is taking an interest. It complicates things."
Bo Xiāo's lips curled into a smile. "Complications create opportunity."
The others had exchanged knowing glances. They all played the same game—outwardly polite, smiling at one another, but always watching for the moment to strike. The balance of power between them was delicate, and everyone in the room knew it.
"We control the district," Jin Yue had purred, her voice like silk. "But control can slip through our fingers if we're not careful."
The conversation had continued like that, a tangle of alliances and schemes, each leader pretending to cooperate while secretly plotting against the others. Bo Xiāo had learned early on that in the world of the Five Demons, there were no friends—only rivals.
Now, in the present, Li Jian and Li Xuan were caught in the middle of that dangerous world. Bo Xiāo was testing them, but in the shadows, the other gang leaders were watching. The brothers didn't know it yet, but they were walking a tightrope—one wrong step, and they would fall.
The wind shifted, carrying with it a scent that didn't belong. Blood.
Li Jian's body went rigid, his hand instinctively tightening around his sword. "They're here."
The first attack came like a whisper—a shuriken slicing through the air toward Li Jian's neck. He twisted at the last second, the blade grazing his skin but drawing blood. He dropped into a crouch, his eyes scanning the darkness. The assassins had finally come.
Nineteen figures emerged from the shadows, their bodies draped in dark cloaks that blended seamlessly with the night. Their movements were silent, their faces obscured by masks. The leader stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with deadly intent. His Qi was strong—Qi Condensation, level six.
"Kill the slavers," the leader whispered, his voice low and cold. "Leave none alive."
Li Jian's blood boiled. He drew his sword in a fluid motion, the blade catching the faint light of the moon as it cut through the air. He didn't wait for them to come to him. He charged.
The first assassin moved to intercept him, his twin daggers flashing in the darkness. Li Jian deflected the strike, his sword cutting a clean arc through the man's defenses. The assassin's eyes widened as the blade sliced through his shoulder, blood spraying into the air. Li Jian didn't stop. He twisted, using the momentum of his strike to deliver a brutal kick to the man's chest, sending him crashing into the trees.
But the assassins weren't done. Two more closed in, their movements synchronized, one striking high while the other aimed low. Li Jian's mind raced as he parried the first strike, but the second assassin's blade caught him in the side, slicing through his tunic and drawing blood. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain as he retaliated, his sword cleaving through the air with deadly precision.
The assassin's head fell from his shoulders before his body hit the ground.
Meanwhile, Li Xuan faced a different challenge. Twenty-five rogue cultivators emerged from the trees, their eyes wild and bloodthirsty. Unlike the assassins, these men were untrained brutes, their movements erratic, their Qi undisciplined. But there were more of them—too many.
Li Xuan's eyes narrowed as he flicked his wrist, sending a flurry of shurikens spinning through the air. The blades found their targets with deadly accuracy, embedding themselves in the throats and chests of the first few rogues. Blood splattered the ground, but more came, their faces twisted in madness.
He moved quickly, his body a blur as he dodged their wild swings, his mind calculating every move, every breath. His hand shot out, releasing a small cloud of poison from a vial hidden in his sleeve. The nearest cultivator inhaled it, his eyes widening in horror as his body seized up, his limbs locking in place before he collapsed to the ground.
But the stronger ones—Qi Condensation, level five—weren't so easily defeated. Five of them surrounded him, their Qi flaring with violent intent. One lunged forward, his fist crackling with energy, aiming for Li Xuan's head. He ducked low, his hand brushing the ground as he pivoted, hurling a small dagger into the man's leg. The cultivator howled in pain, but his comrades were already upon Li Xuan.
A blade came down toward his back, and Li Xuan twisted, the cold steel barely missing his skin. He retaliated with a swift elbow to the attacker's ribs, his Qi surging through his body as he drove his shurikens into the man's throat. Blood poured from the wound, but there was no time to stop. Another rogue cultivator closed in, swinging a crude iron mace with enough force to shatter bones.
Li Xuan darted to the side, the mace crashing into the ground where he had just stood, sending dirt and rocks flying. He used the distraction to leap into the air, his Qi enhancing his speed, and brought his dagger down into the man's chest. The rogue cultivator gurgled, blood spilling from his mouth as he collapsed.
But the battle wasn't over.
Back on Li Jian's side, the Qi Condensation, level six assassin moved with terrifying speed, his daggers flashing in the darkness like the fangs of a serpent. Li Jian's sword met his strikes with a resounding clash of steel, but the assassin was fast—too fast. Each time Li Jian blocked, the assassin slipped away, only to strike again from a different angle.
"You're not bad," the assassin sneered, his voice cold. "But you're outmatched."
Li Jian growled, his body burning with the effort of keeping up. He could feel his Qi draining, but he couldn't afford to stop. Not now. He parried another strike, the force of the blow sending a shockwave through his arm. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain. He had to end this—quickly.
The assassin lunged again, his blades aimed for Li Jian's throat. But this time, Li Jian was ready. He sidestepped the attack, his sword cutting a sharp arc through the air. The assassin's eyes widened in shock as the blade cleaved through his torso, splitting him in half. Blood sprayed across the forest floor, and the assassin fell, his body twitching before going still.
Li Jian stood over him, breathing hard, his sword dripping with blood. But there was no time to rest. More assassins approached—and the fight wasn't over yet.
As the brothers fought for their lives, the forest around them seemed to close in, the shadows growing thicker, the night more suffocating. The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the stench of blood and death.
But they had no choice. They had to survive.
And in the darkness, their enemies waited—silent, deadly, and eager for the kill.