ARK SPIRIT

After resting for the time it took an incense stick to burn, Hao Nhien and Quan Nha left the rocky hollow and continued onward. Their shadows stretched across the sand beneath the dark red evening light, only to be blurred again by the hot wind moments later.

After roughly one canh hour of travel, the terrain gradually began to change. Black fragments of stone appeared among the yellow sand, while the scorched dead trees disappeared, replaced by jagged rocks jutting from the ground like the teeth of some enormous beast. Wind hissed through the gaps between them with a sharper, colder sound, at times resembling countless thin blades scraping against one another in the dark.

Before long, a vast valley opened ahead.

Tall ranges of black stone rose on both sides, their steep peaks disappearing into a haze of dust. Powerful gusts rolled out from between the mountains, carrying black sand and fine stone powder that cast the entire valley in a gloomy gray.

Hao Nhien stopped and checked the jade slip once more.

“Black Wind Valley.”

Quan Nha looked ahead as well.

“This is the place you mentioned?”

“Mm.”

It was one of the most difficult sections along the route to the northwestern camp.

According to the records, the winds inside the valley never moved in a single direction. Hot and cold currents struck the cliffs, changed course, and overlapped with one another. At times they pressed straight ahead like invisible walls; at others, a violent crosswind would suddenly sweep in from the side. The black sand was so dense that once they went deeper, visibility could fall to only a few zhang.

Quan Nha took two cloth coverings from her storage pouch and handed one to Hao Nhien.

He wrapped it around his nose and mouth. She covered her face as well, leaving only her eyes exposed.

They exchanged a glance, then entered the valley together.

The pressure changed immediately.

Wind tore at them from several directions at once, pulling their robes taut before slamming the fabric back against their bodies. Black sand lashed across their hair and wrists, while loose stones kept rolling beneath their feet, making every step harder to stabilize.

At first, Hao Nhien instinctively circulated spiritual power to resist the wind. After only a few dozen steps, however, he realized how wasteful that was.

The Black Wind was not a single current.

It was made up of countless overlapping streams of air, each with different strength and direction. If he tried to force his way against all of them, he would only drain himself faster.

Hao Nhien gradually reduced the spiritual power protecting his body and extended his spiritual awareness instead. His Wind affinity made him more sensitive to changes in the surrounding currents, and once he stopped resisting them head-on, the differences hidden beneath the roar began to reveal themselves.

Some currents struck the cliffs and rebounded. Others skimmed low across the ground. There were even brief pockets where the wind weakened just before two vortices crossed.

He could not read all of Black Wind Valley, but he was beginning to recognize its rhythm.

Hao Nhien changed the way he moved.

A crosswind swept in from the left. Instead of resisting it, he turned his shoulder, let the force slide past his body, and used part of its momentum to step diagonally forward.

Quan Nha, half a body length behind him, noticed immediately.

“Don’t fight the wind,” he said quietly.

She looked at him.

“Remember when we trained in flowing water?”

Her eyes shifted slightly.

“The wind is the same. Don’t stand directly against its force. If it presses sideways, yield with part of it. If it pushes forward, borrow half a step. If it twists beneath your feet, don’t plant your weight too heavily.”

Quan Nha did not answer, but her footwork began to change.

At first, she was still half a beat slower than the wind. Sometimes she turned her body too late and black sand sliced across her sleeve, leaving thin tears behind. At other times, a gust from behind forced her to circulate spiritual power just to keep her balance.

But her earlier experience training in flowing water helped her understand what Hao Nhien meant.

After a while, her movements became less rigid. She stopped trying to remain perfectly upright against each gust, allowing her body to shift with the force before finding her balance again in the next opening. On occasion, she even managed to borrow a crosswind to slide sideways and avoid a patch of swirling sand without spending too much spiritual power.

Hao Nhien could feel the rhythm of her steps behind him growing steadier.

“That’s it.”

Quan Nha gave a soft snort.

“You taught me.”

He could not help smiling.

They continued deeper into the valley.

The Black Wind remained dangerous, but they were no longer struggling as badly as before. Hao Nhien led the way, relying on his Wind affinity and spiritual awareness to choose the less chaotic stretches, while Quan Nha followed at a measured distance, watching his hand signals and adjusting her steps accordingly.

When visibility fell to only one or two zhang, Hao Nhien became even more cautious.

He did not use Spirit Wings continuously. Only when they had to cross an exposed gap or change position quickly through a particularly violent current would the translucent wings flash into existence behind him for an instant before disappearing again.

Because of that, their pace gradually increased without a matching rise in spiritual power consumption.

Near the middle of Black Wind Valley, Quan Nha suddenly slowed.

Hao Nhien looked back.

“What is it?”

She stared through the curtain of black sand behind them.

“I don’t know. I just feel like something behind us isn’t right.”

Hao Nhien did not answer immediately. He had felt something similar, but the Black Wind was too chaotic for him to draw a conclusion.

They continued for another stretch.

Then a very faint sweep of spiritual awareness brushed across them.

It lasted only an instant before vanishing.

Hao Nhien and Quan Nha looked at each other almost simultaneously.

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This time, there was no need to guess.

“Someone is following us.”

Quan Nha lowered her voice.

“How many?”

“Not sure.”

Hao Nhien looked into the dark sand ahead before speaking slowly.

“But here in Black Wind Valley, I have a slight advantage.”

He did not turn around.

“Slow down a little. Let’s see if they keep following.”

The two naturally reduced their pace. Hao Nhien deliberately chose a more turbulent section, where the chaotic wind would make it harder for anyone behind them to judge the exact distance. Quan Nha also restrained her aura, keeping her spiritual power from spreading too far.

Hao Nhien tilted his head toward a narrow crack in the rock.

“Hide in there.”

Quan Nha understood immediately.

“I’ll stay outside.”

As he spoke, Hao Nhien took an empty envelope from his pouch.

Quan Nha looked at it.

“A fake letter?”

“Mm.”

He attached two ordinary talismans to the envelope and covered it with a thin layer of spiritual power, giving it just enough of a sealed appearance to be convincing at a glance.

Hao Nhien looked at her.

“If they immediately go for this…”

Quan Nha nodded.

“Then that’s enough.”

He indicated the crevice.

“Stay inside and don’t move too early. Wait until they come close enough.”

After a brief pause, he added,

“If they really have hostile intentions, just use your Charm affinity to disrupt them for one beat.”

The corner of Hao Nhien’s mouth lifted.

“I’ll be an early Foundation Establishment cultivator who wandered into Black Wind Valley and got battered by the wind until he could barely move.”

Quan Nha looked at him for a moment.

“That does sound fairly convincing.”

Hao Nhien laughed.

“Thanks.”

She said nothing more and slipped into the rock crevice. Her aura quickly drew inward, blending into the chaotic spiritual fluctuations around the cliffs.

Hao Nhien pulled his face covering slightly out of place, allowing black sand to cling to his hair and collar. He deliberately tore several more sections of his robe, then leaned against the cliff with one hand braced on his knee. His breathing gradually became heavy and uneven.

Beneath the howling wind, he waited.

It did not take long for two figures to appear.

The one in front carried the aura of early Foundation Establishment. The man behind him was clearly stronger and had already reached mid Foundation Establishment. Both wore dark gray robes trimmed in silver, their faces covered. On their chests, partly obscured by the blowing sand, was an emblem resembling a sword wrapped in lightning.

Hao Nhien had seen that symbol in records before.

Huyen Thien Sect.

At least, that was what they appeared to be.

The two stopped more than ten paces away.

The early Foundation cultivator spoke first.

“Who are you?”

Hao Nhien raised his head, deliberately breathing harder.

“A disciple of the Tieu Dao Sect.”

“I received a mission from Third City.”

The man looked around.

“Where are your companions?”

“We were separated by the wind.”

The mid Foundation cultivator still said nothing, but his gaze swept over Hao Nhien from head to toe.

Only for a brief moment.

Hao Nhien caught it.

The early Foundation cultivator stepped closer and raised his military token.

“Show me yours.”

Hao Nhien took out his own token and held it up.

“What mission?”

This time, the mid Foundation cultivator also moved closer as he asked.

“None of your concern,” Hao Nhien replied.

The man studied him for a moment.

“Come with us. There is a support point ahead.”

Hao Nhien did not answer immediately.

If they were truly on the same side, they should at least have asked where his separated companions were, or whether he needed to send a signal to find them. Yet from the beginning, their attention had remained fixed almost entirely on him.

At that moment, the early Foundation cultivator stepped forward again.

Only three paces remained between them.

Hao Nhien deliberately let the false letter slip partly from inside his robe.

The man’s gaze dropped at once.

One beat.

Enough.

The Tieu Dao Sword left its sheath.

Hao Nhien moved with a Black Wind current sweeping across the valley. Spirit Wings flashed behind him for an instant, and his figure suddenly vanished from where he had been standing.

First beat.

The Tieu Dao Sword cut across the man’s side.

Blood sprayed into the black sand.

The cultivator roared and spun around with astonishing speed, lightning already gathering around his arm.

But before he could complete his sword stance, Hao Nhien borrowed a rebounding current from the cliff and changed direction again.

Second beat.

The sword point pierced the soft flesh beneath the ribs and angled upward into the heart.

The man’s eyes widened.

Hao Nhien pulled the blade free.

The early Foundation cultivator collapsed onto the black stone.

There was no time to look again.

The mid Foundation cultivator had already arrived.

A muffled crack of thunder sounded through the Black Wind as dark violet sword light tore through the sand and slashed toward Hao Nhien’s shoulder.

He instinctively retreated, but his opponent was faster than expected.

Boom!

The Tieu Dao Sword caught the strike, yet lightning immediately surged along Hao Nhien’s arm. His entire right hand went numb, and the spiritual power flowing through his meridians shook violently.

He was forced several steps backward toward the rock crevice.

The mid Foundation cultivator gave him no time to recover and charged after him behind another streak of sword light.

“You did this on purpose!”

Hao Nhien did not answer.

The difference in strength was obvious. His opponent not only possessed denser spiritual power, but even circulated his techniques noticeably faster.

Another sword strike came.

Hao Nhien twisted aside, but lightning still grazed his shoulder, tearing through his robe and leaving a burning line across his skin.

He activated Spirit Wings at once. The translucent wings flashed into existence and disappeared just as quickly, giving him enough speed to widen the distance for a single beat.

The mid Foundation cultivator immediately accelerated.

The gap closed almost as soon as it had opened.

The difference of one stage was unmistakable. Spirit Wings could give Hao Nhien explosive speed for an instant, but they could not erase the gap in spiritual power and endurance.

He knew that very well.

The crevice where Quan Nha was hiding had appeared ahead.

His pursuer was already close.

At that moment, Quan Nha stepped out.

She did not attack.

She only looked straight past Hao Nhien at the man behind him, her deep eyes darkening subtly.

Hao Nhien turned and saw the mid Foundation cultivator shake his head hard, as if forcibly pulling his mind back into focus. His sword was already rising again.

A powerful Black Wind current had just struck the cliff to the left and rebounded.

Hao Nhien moved with it.

At the same moment, the Spirit Sword within his Sea of Consciousness struck without a sound.

An invisible force flashed past.

The mid Foundation cultivator suddenly froze.

His eyes lost focus for half a beat.

For someone else, half a beat might have meant nothing.

For Hao Nhien, it was enough.

Spirit Wings erupted.

The translucent wings flared behind him as he poured his strength into one explosive burst of speed.

The Tieu Dao Sword thrust forward.

No flourish, no change in stance, only a straight strike faster than the Black Wind sweeping between them.

By the time the mid Foundation cultivator broke free from the Spirit Sword’s influence, the sword point was already at his abdomen.

He tried to twist away.

Too late.

The blade drove straight through his dantian.

The spiritual power circulating through his body immediately fell into chaos, and the lightning around his sword went dark.

The man’s eyes widened. His body stiffened for an instant before his knees gave way.

Hao Nhien pulled the sword free and stepped back half a pace, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Quan Nha approached, her face slightly pale after forcing her Charm affinity against someone at a higher stage. She looked down at the cultivator kneeling on the ground.

He was still alive.

Then Hao Nhien saw his hand rise toward his mouth.

“Stop him!”

Quan Nha lunged forward.

Too late.

The man bit down hard.

Black blood immediately spilled from the corner of his mouth. The last traces of lightning around his body vanished as he remained on his knees, staring at them while the light rapidly faded from his eyes.

Quan Nha stopped her sword.

Hao Nhien stepped forward and forced the man’s jaw open.

A shattered poison capsule lay between his teeth.

“He had it prepared in advance.”

Quan Nha wiped a thin trace of blood from the corner of her mouth.

“People from the Huyen Thien Sect?”

Hao Nhien did not answer immediately.

He turned toward the body of the early Foundation cultivator, and the two quickly searched them.

Robes bearing the mark of the Huyen Thien Sect.

Military tokens from Third City.

Storage pouches.

But nothing that revealed who had given them their orders.

Hao Nhien studied the two tokens in his hand.

“The tokens are real. This is no small matter.”

Quan Nha understood and nodded.

He was about to stand when his gaze stopped on the mid Foundation cultivator’s hand. During the fight, he had briefly noticed a dark mark on the palm.

Hao Nhien turned the hand over.

A tiny tattoo lay in the center of the palm.

An eye.

The black-violet lines seemed embedded beneath the skin. It was small, yet carried an extremely faint, chilling aura.

Quan Nha leaned closer.

“A mark?”

“I don’t know.”

Hao Nhien immediately checked the other body.

The same location.

The same eye.

He stared at the two tattoos and suddenly remembered what Tieu Kiem had said in the tea house.

Wounded members of the local tribes had continued charging forward.

Some had been nearly unconscious, yet still responded to commands.

The thought surfaced only for an instant before Hao Nhien forced it back down.

There was not enough evidence.

He could not draw a conclusion.

Hao Nhien collected the two military tokens and storage pouches, then used Wind-affinity spiritual power to guide black sand across the most obvious bloodstains.

Quan Nha looked deeper into Black Wind Valley.

“We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Mm.”

The spiritual fluctuations from the battle had not been small. If anyone else was following behind, they might come to investigate.

The two left the area quickly.

Before departing, Hao Nhien looked back once more at the eye tattoo in the dead man’s palm.

He still did not know what it represented.

But from this point onward, he could no longer treat the people behind the strange events in the Western Wastes as nothing more than a vague shadow.

Their reach had already extended into the military affairs of Third City.