The tournament continued, match after match pushing the disciples to their limits. Zhao Lan, the sword genius, effortlessly sliced through his opponent, ending the duel with a single precise stroke. Wu Fei, the spear master, won with calculated movements, overwhelming his rival without wasting energy. Others fought fiercely, their techniques clashing in dazzling displays of martial skill, but one name echoed through the arena more than any other—Jiang Cheng.
As he returned to his seat, Jiang Cheng barely acknowledged the whispers of admiration and envy around him. His mind was sharp, his focus unshaken. He had won, but this was only the first step. Many powerful opponents remained, and he knew better than to underestimate anyone.
Yet, in the shadows, a sinister plot was unfolding.
---
The Gathering in the Dark
Deep beneath the sect's main hall, in an underground chamber where light barely reached, Mo Tian sat across from several cloaked figures. The room was cold, the air thick with the scent of burning incense. Faint symbols glowed on the stone walls, pulsating with an ominous red light.
One of the cloaked figures spoke first. "Jiang Cheng has already won his first match." His voice was raspy, filled with unease. "He's progressing too fast."
Mo Tian didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached for the teacup beside him, slowly swirling the dark liquid inside before taking a sip. The silence dragged on, amplifying the tension in the room. Then, he laughed.
"Good," Mo Tian said, his voice smooth yet laced with malice. "Let him win. Let him think he's untouchable."
The cloaked figures exchanged glances, wary of the arrogance in his tone.
"But Master Mo," another spoke hesitantly, "he is not just another opponent. His growth is unpredictable. His battle sense is far beyond his peers. If we wait too long—"
Mo Tian's gaze snapped to the speaker, and in an instant, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. The man immediately shrank back, realizing his mistake.
Mo Tian leaned forward, placing his teacup down with an eerie calmness. "Do you think I don't know that?" His fingers tapped against the table rhythmically. "Everything is already in motion."
A shadow flickered from the corner of the room. From the darkness, a masked figure stepped forward, kneeling before Mo Tian. His presence was suffocating, his aura sharp like a drawn blade.
"Your orders, Young Master?" the masked man asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
Mo Tian smirked.
"For now," he said, "observe him. Study his habits, his movements, his weaknesses. We will strike when he least expects it."
The masked figure nodded and disappeared into the shadows.
A third cloaked figure spoke, his voice cautious. "What about the elders? If they find out—"
"They won't," Mo Tian interrupted smoothly. "By the time they notice, it'll be too late."
He reached into his robes and unrolled a scroll, placing it in the center of the table. The dim light revealed its contents—detailed battle diagrams, weak points in Jiang Cheng's fighting style, and worst of all...
A list of names.
Jiang Cheng's friends.
A cruel smile tugged at Mo Tian's lips. "If we can't break him directly… we'll break everything around him."
---
Jiang Cheng Senses Danger
Back in the arena, Jiang Cheng sat quietly, eyes closed. He was meditating, recovering his qi after the fight, but a strange sensation tugged at the edges of his awareness.
It was subtle—a feeling of being watched.
He opened his eyes slightly, his sharp gaze scanning the stands. Hundreds of disciples filled the area, their attention focused on the battles below. Yet, somewhere among them, hidden beneath the surface, someone was watching him with intent.
His instincts screamed danger.
His fingers twitched slightly, brushing against the hilt of his blade. He didn't know where the threat would come from, but he was certain it was there.
At that moment, Elder Han's voice rang out. "Next battle—Zhao Lan versus Qian Mu!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, momentarily distracting Jiang Cheng. He exhaled slowly, pushing aside his unease. If someone truly intended to act against him, he would find out soon enough.
And when he did... he would be ready.
---
The Web Closes In
Later that night, as the sky darkened and the tournament grounds emptied, a lone figure moved through the shadows, heading toward Jiang Cheng's residence. He moved soundlessly, his breathing controlled, his movements trained for stealth.
Reaching the outer courtyard, the figure slipped past the guards, maneuvering through the trees like a phantom. His mission was simple—leave no trace, and learn everything about Jiang Cheng.
Yet, as he neared the inner chambers, a voice suddenly rang out.
"You've taken too long to act."
The spy froze.
A sharp gust of wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the leaves. Before the spy could react, a blade flashed in the moonlight.
The next moment, the spy collapsed, a single cut on his throat.
Standing over him, a hooded figure wiped the blood from his blade.
"This one was too weak," the assassin muttered before turning away. "We'll need stronger pieces for the real hunt."
Somewhere in the distance, Mo Tian watched from the shadows, his smile widening.
The first move had been made.
---