Shenlong's eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the fight. Whoever this person was, they weren't just an ordinary assassin. Their cultivation was high—perhaps even higher than his. He could feel the dark energy radiating from them, a clear sign that this attack was not a random act.
"Who sent you?" Shenlong demanded, though he already had a suspicion. The elders' growing concern, the whispers in the sect—it all made sense now.
The assassin said nothing, lunging forward with incredible speed. Shenlong barely managed to sidestep the attack, countering with a powerful punch that sent shockwaves through the air. The assassin deflected the blow, but the force pushed them back slightly, their footing unsteady.
"You've improved," the assassin remarked coldly, their tone mocking. "But you're still far from strong enough to survive what's coming."
Before Shenlong could respond, the assassin's body flickered, disappearing from view. He spun around, his senses on high alert. This was no ordinary fight—this enemy was skilled in stealth and assassination techniques far beyond what most cultivators could handle.
His pendant pulsed against his chest, as if urging him to tap into its power. Shenlong knew he couldn't hold back. Channeling the pendant's energy, he felt a surge of strength course through him, his vision sharpening as the world around him slowed. The forbidden Soul Devouring Art began to stir within him, hungry for the assassin's power.
The next attack came from above. Shenlong raised his hand, summoning a protective barrier just as the assassin's blade slammed down, the force of the strike shaking the ground beneath them. Sparks flew as the blade clashed against his barrier, but the assassin wasn't finished. With blinding speed, they launched a flurry of attacks, each one aimed at a vital point.
Shenlong gritted his teeth, struggling to keep up with the relentless onslaught. He could feel the weight of the assassin's killing intent bearing down on him, each strike growing more lethal. For a moment, doubt crept into his mind—was this the end? But then, the pendant pulsed again, filling him with a renewed sense of purpose.
With a roar, Shenlong unleashed a powerful wave of energy, forcing the assassin to retreat. The air around them crackled with tension as the two opponents stood facing each other once more, the fight far from over.
"You'll have to do better than that," Shenlong growled, his voice laced with determination.
The assassin's eyes narrowed behind the mask. "Very well," they said softly, before raising their hand and forming a complex series of seals. Dark energy swirled around them, gathering into a massive sphere of destructive force. "Let's see how you handle this."
Without warning, the assassin hurled the sphere at Shenlong, its sheer power warping the space around it. Shenlong's heart raced—he had to stop it, but how? In that split second, he made his decision. He would use the pendant's full power.
As the sphere neared, Shenlong activated the pendant's ancient legacy. His body glowed with a brilliant light, and an ethereal shield formed around him, absorbing the dark energy as it made contact. The assassin's attack was powerful, but Shenlong's pendant was older, stronger—a relic from an era long forgotten.
The sphere disintegrated upon impact, its energy dissipating into the night. Shenlong stood tall, unharmed.
The assassin froze, disbelief flashing across their eyes. "Impossible… That pendant—"
Before they could finish, Shenlong made his move. With lightning speed, he closed the distance between them, striking the assassin in the chest with a palm strike infused with the full power of the pendant. The assassin's body convulsed as the force of the blow shattered their internal defenses, sending them crashing into the ground.
For a moment, there was only silence. Shenlong stared down at the fallen figure, his breathing heavy. He could feel the darkness of the Soul Devouring Art urging him to finish the job, to take the assassin's life and absorb their cultivation.
But Shenlong resisted. He wouldn't let the darkness control him—not now, not ever.
"Tell me who sent you," Shenlong demanded, his voice cold and commanding. "Or the next strike will end your life."
The assassin coughed, blood dripping from beneath their mask. "You… you don't even know who you really are," they rasped. "But soon, you'll find out. And when you do… you'll wish you had died here tonight."
With that, the assassin's body went limp, their life force fading. Shenlong frowned. Whoever they were, they had been willing to die to keep their secrets. But their last words left a chill running down his spine.
Who you really are ...