Wei Tian returned at dawn—but he wasn't alone.
Six disciples flanked him, their blades catching the morning light, their eyes cold with murder. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and old blood. Each footstep they took toward the cave was measured, deliberate, like predators closing in for the kill.
Wei Tian's lips curled into a sneer. "This is our cave now. Be good dogs and die quietly."
Zhang Yan rose slowly, his eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep and tensed nerves. His gaze locked onto Wei Tian's, unreadable, unwavering and full of madness.
"You should have killed me last night."
For the first time, Wei Tian hesitated.
The whisper of steel cut the silence as Zhang Yan drew his dagger, its edge gleaming with promise. "Because now, it's my turn."
Shi Lihua stepped beside him, her smirk razor-sharp. "Shall we?"
The battle ignited in an instant.
Zhang Yan moved like a shadow in the flickering light, slipping between the swings of enemy blades with deadly grace. His dagger lashed out—flesh parted, blood sprayed. A disciple crumpled, clutching his throat as his fingers was dyed a scarlet hue.
Shi Lihua danced through the chaos, her needle-like dagger a flickering blur. She drove it into an attacker's eye, twisting viciously. A high pitch scream rung throughout the misted morning air—then silence.
A sword whistled toward Zhang Yan's back. He twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike, his blade flashing in response. He cut deep into the attacker's wrist, severing tendon from bone. The disciple shrieked, stumbling back—Zhang Yan finished him with a swift thrust to the heart.
Wei Tian roared, charging forward, his cleaver carving the air. Zhang Yan ducked under the savage arc, feeling the wind of its passage graze his skin. As Wei Tian overcommitted, Zhang Yan pivoted, dagger plunging deep into his side of his knee.
A howl of agony.
Wei Tian crumpled to one knee, pain and fury warring in his bloodshot eyes. He swung wildly, desperation tainting his strikes. Zhang Yan sidestepped effortlessly, catching his collar and dragging him forward.
He leaned in close, his voice deathly calm. "This is the difference between us."
Wei Tian gasped as Zhang Yan took his cleaver and slowly exerted force upon his sternum—cracking and wheezing was the only sounds heard as Wei Tian's ribcage was crushed under the force.
A wet gurgle escaped as Wei Tian's lungs collapsed and filled with blood— his eyes wide open and full of regret, resentment and fear.
A final shudder ensued. Then—stillness.
The remaining disciples, drenched in terror, turned and fled into the forest. They had come for slaughter, but they had been the ones hunted instead.
Shi Lihua wiped a streak of blood from her cheek, her breath steady despite the carnage. "That was entertaining."
Zhang Yan flicked the blood from his blade, his expression unreadable. "It was necessary."
Wei Tian had been an obstacle. Now, he was nothing more than a lifeless husk on the cave floor.
And Zhang Yan?
He was one step closer to becoming a true demon.