The mountain village of Qinghe lay nestled in the heart of mist-shrouded peaks, where the river's winding course dictated the rhythm of life. Farmers toiled by day, while merchants bartered under the flickering lanterns of the evening market. Here, life was simple, untouched by the bloodshed and betrayals of the vast martial world beyond.
Yet tonight, the heavens themselves seemed to grieve, weeping in torrents that drenched the land. Thunder rumbled, shaking the earth, and lightning carved jagged wounds into the sky.
A lone traveler moved along the muddy road, his straw hat tilted low against the rain. His robes, once fine, were now travel-worn, dark with water and dirt. Yet his steps were steady, his presence unwavering, as if no storm could shake the iron will within him.
His name was Jiang Feng.
Once, he had been the proud heir of the Cloudveil Sword Pavilion, a sect renowned for its mastery of swordsmanship as fluid as mist and as swift as the wind. Now, he was a fugitive, hunted across the martial world for a crime he did not commit.
A month ago, his sect had been massacred in a single night. His master, his sworn brothers—cut down like wheat beneath the blade. And when dawn arrived, the only survivor, the only suspect, was him.
Branded a traitor, he had fled with nothing but his sword and the words his dying master had whispered to him:
"Find the one with the jade lotus mark… They hold the truth."
Now, with the weight of vengeance and injustice pressing upon him, Jiang Feng wandered without destination—until fate intervened.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the rain-drenched road ahead. Amidst the storm's fury, he caught sight of a slumped figure at the roadside.
A woman.
Her robes, once elegant, were now torn and stained with blood. Long strands of jet-black hair clung to her pale skin, tangled with mud and rain. Even from a distance, he could tell she was unconscious, her breath faint beneath the endless downpour.
Jiang Feng hesitated only for a moment before stepping forward. He knelt beside her, brushing aside the wet strands of hair clinging to her face. She was young—perhaps nineteen or twenty. Her features were delicate, yet there was an undeniable strength in them, even in unconsciousness.
His gaze traveled downward, and then—his breath caught.
Beneath the tattered silk of her sleeve, barely visible in the dim light, was a jade lotus birthmark.
A mark identical to the one his master had described.
Jiang Feng's fingers clenched into fists.
Had fate truly brought him to the one who could unravel the mystery of his sect's destruction? Or was this yet another cruel trick of the heavens?
The woman stirred, her lips parting in a whisper.
"…Don't… let them find me…"
Her voice was hoarse, fragile, yet tinged with desperation.
Jiang Feng's eyes sharpened. She was being hunted.
His senses flared. Over the pounding of the rain, he caught the distant sound of approaching footsteps—many of them. Warriors, moving swiftly through the storm.
Whoever this woman was, they were coming for her.
Jiang Feng did not hesitate. He lifted her into his arms, her body cold and frail against his own. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder, her breath shallow but steady. Without another thought, he turned and disappeared into the forest.
---
The rain intensified as Jiang Feng moved swiftly through the underbrush, his boots sinking into the wet earth. Behind him, the sounds of pursuit grew louder—men calling to one another, their voices sharp with urgency.
Through the darkness, he spotted an abandoned temple nestled within the forest. Though worn with age, its roof still held against the storm. He made his way inside, setting the woman down gently upon a dry patch of wooden flooring.
Lightning flashed through the broken windows, illuminating her face. Even in exhaustion, she was beautiful—though not in the fragile, delicate way of noble daughters. There was something unyielding in the curve of her lips, in the slight furrow of her brow. A will as fierce as tempered steel.
Jiang Feng removed his outer robe, draping it over her shoulders for warmth. He had no herbs or medicine, but he reached into his travel pouch and retrieved a small jade vial—one of the last relics of his former life. He uncorked it and let a few drops of the medicinal elixir fall upon her lips.
For a moment, she did not stir. Then, her throat moved as she swallowed. A faint flush returned to her cheeks, and her breath deepened.
Jiang Feng exhaled. She would live.
Now, he needed answers.
He watched her in silence, his mind churning. If she truly held the key to the mystery of his sect's destruction, then who was she? And why was she being pursued?
The answer came sooner than expected.
Outside, the storm raged, but beneath it—voices.
"…She couldn't have gotten far."
"She was wounded. She won't last the night."
Jiang Feng's hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. His instincts told him they were skilled fighters—not mere bandits, but trained killers.
He crouched beside the woman and spoke, his voice low yet firm.
"If you wish to live, wake up now."
Her eyelids fluttered. Then, with a sudden gasp, she sat up, eyes wide and alert.
She turned to him, and for the first time, he saw her eyes clearly—deep and dark as a midnight lake, filled with intelligence and wariness.
"Who…?" she started, but then she stiffened, her ears catching the same voices he had.
Her fingers clenched in the fabric of his robe. "They found me."
Jiang Feng met her gaze. "Who are they?"
For a moment, she hesitated. Then, she spoke one name.
"The Iron Thorn Society."
Jiang Feng's eyes narrowed. He knew that name well. A ruthless underground sect, infamous for assassinations and political intrigue. If they were hunting her, then she was no ordinary fugitive.
Before he could press further, the sound of footsteps grew dangerously close.
The woman inhaled sharply. Though still weak, she reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh, her fingers steady despite her wounds.
Jiang Feng saw her resolve and made a decision.
"We can fight," he murmured, "or we can run."
She looked at him, the tension in her shoulders evident. But then, slowly, she nodded.
"Run."
Without another word, Jiang Feng pulled her to her feet, supporting her as they slipped through the temple's back entrance.
Behind them, shadows moved through the trees, their pursuers drawing closer.
Lightning flashed once more, illuminating the rain-soaked forest.
And so began a fateful flight—one that would bind their fates together in blood, secrets, and a destiny neither of them yet understood.