The flames continued to burn in the distance, but the fighting had stopped. The mysterious woman, cloaked in shadow, stood a few paces ahead of Wei Shuren. The man in the dark robes, one of the assailants responsible for the massacre of Yanjing, had retreated, vanishing into the smoke with an ominous warning on his lips.

  But even as the village smoldered, Wei’s mind was numb. The sight of his mother’s lifeless body and the destruction of his home gripped him like a vice. His father was gone, the village he loved was gone, and now all that was left were the ashes of his once peaceful life. He hadn’t even been able to save a single soul.

  The mysterious woman wiped the blood from her blade, her hood partially lifted to reveal sharp, intense eyes. Her gaze flickered toward Wei, scrutinizing him with the cold precision of a hunter evaluating a wounded animal.

  “Get up,” she said again, more firmly this time. The tone was the same as before—commanding, not gentle. “Sitting there wallowing in grief won’t bring anyone back.”

  Wei’s muscles screamed in protest as he slowly pushed himself up from the ground. His body was battered, his spirit even more so. But there was something in her voice, a force that wouldn’t let him crumble. Not yet. He stumbled, catching his balance on the hilt of his father’s broken sword.

  The woman approached, her movements swift but careful, like a predator stalking its prey. “You’re lucky you’re still alive,” she said. “That man—he could’ve killed you in an instant.”

  Wei’s hands tightened around the hilt of his father’s sword. “Who are you?” His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable even to himself.

  “Does it matter?” She sheathed her blade, her cloak billowing slightly in the wind. “Right now, what matters is that you’re still breathing. And if you want to stay that way, you’ll need to learn how to fight.”

  Wei clenched his teeth, his grief giving way to a rising tide of anger. “I already know how to fight,” he spat. “My father—” His words faltered, the weight of his loss choking him.

  The woman’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew colder. “Your father knew how to fight. You? You’re just a boy playing with sticks.” Her eyes narrowed. “Those people who attacked your village—they’re not ordinary. They belong to the Fallen Night Sect.”

  Wei’s breath caught in his throat. The Fallen Night Sect. The name stirred something deep within him, a faint memory of his father speaking of them long ago, in hushed tones late at night. His father had warned him to stay away from the sects, from the martial world’s dangerous power struggles. But now, he had no choice.

  “Why?” Wei whispered, his voice trembling. “Why did they attack my village? Why did they kill everyone?”

  The woman’s gaze remained steady, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—pity, perhaps. “I don’t know the exact reason,” she said. “But the Fallen Night Sect doesn’t act without purpose. Whatever they came for, it must be something of great value.”

  Wei’s fists tightened around the broken sword. “They killed my father. My mother…” His voice cracked, and he had to force himself to continue. “I’ll make them pay.”

  The woman’s lips curled into a slight smile, though it was more of a grimace than anything else. “Vengeance is a powerful motivator,” she said. “But don’t mistake it for strength. Right now, you’re weak. If you go after them as you are, you’ll die.”

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  Wei’s heart raced, his body trembling not just from exhaustion but from the sheer magnitude of what lay ahead. His father had been one of the strongest men he knew, and even he had fallen. What chance did he have?

  “I can teach you,” the woman continued, her voice cutting through his spiraling thoughts. “But it won’t be easy. The path you’re about to walk is steep, and it’s littered with bodies.”

  Wei hesitated. The pain of his loss still throbbed like a wound, fresh and raw. But something deep inside him, a spark of defiance, refused to let him crumble under the weight of his grief. If he didn’t get stronger, if he didn’t fight back—everything would have been for nothing.

  “What do I have to do?” Wei asked, his voice steadier than before.

  The woman nodded, as if she had expected the question. “First, we leave this place. The Fallen Night Sect will send more of their kind if they didn’t find what they were looking for. You staying here is a death sentence.”

  Wei glanced back at the remains of his village, the ashes swirling in the wind. A part of him wanted to stay, to search for any sign of his father’s body or any survivors. But deep down, he knew she was right. There was nothing left here. Nothing but the dead.

  The woman turned, heading toward the forest’s edge. “Come. The journey ahead is long. I’ll explain more once we’re away from here.”

  Reluctantly, Wei followed her. Each step away from his village felt like a betrayal, but there was no turning back now. The road in front of him was the only one he had left.

  As they ventured deeper into the woods, the air grew colder, the trees towering overhead like silent sentinels. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional crack of a branch beneath their feet. Wei’s thoughts were a chaotic storm, each one pulling him in different directions. His parents, his village, the Fallen Night Sect—it all felt like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

  “Who are you, really?” Wei asked again, his voice breaking the stillness.

  The woman didn’t look back. “My name is Meilin,” she said simply. “Beyond that, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know how to fight, and I can teach you.”

  Wei frowned. “Why help me? You don’t even know me.”

  For a moment, Meilin didn’t answer. Then, without breaking her stride, she spoke. “You remind me of someone I once knew. Someone who sought revenge and found only death.” Her voice was cold, but there was a hint of something else—regret, perhaps, or sadness.

  Wei’s chest tightened. “I don’t want to die.”

  Meilin’s gaze flickered toward him, her expression unreadable. “Then learn quickly.”

  They continued walking in silence, the shadows growing longer as the sun began to set. Wei’s body was still sore, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He didn’t know if he could trust this woman, but right now, she was all he had.

  As night fell, they made camp by a small clearing near a stream. Meilin sat by the fire she had built, her gaze fixed on the flames. Wei sat across from her, clutching his father’s broken sword in his hands.

  “Your father’s sword won’t do you much good,” Meilin said, her eyes flicking toward the shattered blade. “But it’s a reminder of where you came from. Keep it close. You’ll need that fire if you want to survive.”

  Wei looked down at the sword, the weight of his father’s legacy pressing down on him. He had always wanted to make his father proud, to become a warrior like him. But now, the path before him seemed impossibly long, filled with dangers he couldn’t yet comprehend.

  Still, he couldn’t back down. Not now.

  “What’s the first step?” Wei asked, his voice quiet but determined.

  Meilin smiled, though it was a cold, calculating smile. “First, we strengthen your body. You’ll need stamina, speed, and endurance if you want to survive the trials ahead. We’ll start at dawn.”

  Wei nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know if he had what it took, but he was willing to try.

  As the fire crackled in the darkness, Wei’s thoughts drifted to his parents, to the village that had been his home. The pain was still there, a dull ache that refused to fade. But now, beneath that pain, there was something else—a flicker of strength, a spark of hope.

  He would learn. He would grow stronger.

  And when the time came, he would make them pay.