The night pressed cold against the skin, a brittle stillness beneath the pale, reluctant glow of the moon. Its light spilled thinly over the long road, stretching long shadows across the cobblestones. Even together, moon and stars could not fully chase the darkness that clung like damp cloth to the walls and eaves.

  Five figures stood in a loose ring. Their boots scuffed lightly against stone, weapons half-drawn, eyes locked not on each other but on the small shape between two fallen bodies. A boy—alone, breathing slow and steady where silence pressed hardest.

  Wu Qing’s throat felt tight. Just a child? His gaze flicked restlessly to the surrounding trees, searching for shapes in the dark. The night wind whispered over rustling leaves, but no allies revealed themselves.

  A curse tightened in his chest, directed squarely at Lei Morin—dragging him here, into this noose. Still, fear crept in with the thought: he had never sensed the boy’s approach, not a flicker of qi, not a breath out of place.

  Carelessness—he told himself. A lapse, nothing more. But the thought rang hollow.

  Across from him, Lei Morin, Lei San, and Lei Mo had gone rigid. Their faces paled, pupils narrowing as recognition clawed its way from memory. That face, drawn sharper now with hunger and shadow, still overlapped with another burned into their minds. Words broke from their mouths, jagged, almost involuntary.

  “You—”

  But the accusation was left unfinished. Xiao Lei moved.

  A single step. Another. His pace neither hurried nor slow, but each one tightened the coil of dread in the watchers’ chests. His bow lifted, smooth and silent, as natural as the rise and fall of breath.

  Fingers loosed with no hesitation—four arrows slicing through the air in a blur, their whistles sharp as knife-edges. Two for Lei San, two for Lei Mo. One aimed high, one low, crafted to choke away the paths of escape.

  Before the echoes faded, the bow was already slung across his back. His body flowed ahead like a shadow breaking from its master, charging straight for Wu Xianyi.

  “Courting death!” Wu Xianyi sneered, stepping in to meet him.

  Yet in the instant before steel met flesh, the boy dissolved. His rushing figure shimmered, then vanished, as though the charge itself had been nothing but a mirage painted by moonlight.

  A shrill cry shattered the moment. Wu Qing’s body convulsed sideways, a ragged sound tearing from his lips.

  Xiao Lei slid back across the cobblestones, boots screeching against grit until he steadied. His right hand quivered violently, but his face was stone, unreadable. The gloves over his knuckles dripped red.

  He had struck.

  The Void Step had carried him in a blur to Wu Qing’s flank, his fist drove forward with everything his body could muster. Wu Qing had been prepared—eyes sharp, weapon raised—but even so, he had misjudged the boy’s speed and intent.

  Bone cracked. Flesh tore. His right arm hung twisted, mangled, nearly useless. Pain blanched his face as he staggered, and in that single moment, the balance of the battlefield shifted.

  Xiao Lei dashed, body a blur of motion, heading for Wu Qing. The other party met his gaze through a grimace of pain—eyes bloodshot, fierce with the hunger to devour him, yet beneath that fire quivered the shadow of dread.

  He had felt it clearly. The pressure was not of a child barely out of Mortal Vein but the unmistakable weight of Qi Awakening, and not its first steps—fifth stage. At his age? Impossible.

  The shock rippled outward like a pebble striking still water. Faces blanched, bodies stiffened. None present had expected this.

  But hesitation did not last. Wu Xianyi, breaking from his daze, shouted toward Lei Morin and sprang toward his wounded cousin.

  Morin staggered back into motion, jaw locked. His thoughts clattered even as his body obeyed: four months ago this boy had been nothing, at best maybe peak of mortal vein. How could such a leap exist? He found no answer. There was no time. The boy was already moving. Grinding his teeth until they almost cracked, he hurled himself into the fray.

  Lei San limped, an arrow embedded deep in his thigh, while Lei Mo remained uninjured but wary. Both exchanged a glance that needed no words. Against Qi Awakening, Mortal Vein was as straw before fire. Yet retreat was not an option. If they fled, the secret deal would drag them to execution anyway. So, bound by fear of death in all directions, they raised their weapons and followed.

  Xiao Lei reached Wu Qing. His strike descended—then a weight pressed into the air behind him, thick and crushing. Instinct flared. He pivoted, forearms raised, just as iron met bone.

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  The staff struck like a falling boulder. His guard broke; his body flung backward, air shattering in his lungs. He landed hard, grit biting into his palms, blood searing the corner of his lips. Pain pulsed from his arms, already mottled in bruised blue and black.

  He rose without hurry, spat crimson to the side, and with a steady hand wiped the red trace from his mouth. His eyes remained flat, cold, untouched by the tremor of his body.

  Across from him, Wu Xianyi stood shoulder to shoulder with Wu Qing, both poised, wary. Not far behind, Lei Morin steadied himself, sweat beading down his temple. The other two hovered still farther away, blades drawn but unwilling to step closer, fear thickening the gap between them and the boy they had once dismissed.

  Wu Qing’s teeth ground audibly. He shot a glare toward Morin, voice low with strain. “Do you know this brat? Who in the hell is he?”

  Morin’s breath came shallow. Even he struggled to shape the words. “He… he is Lei Veylan. Son of Lei Rhen.”

  The name fell like a stone into silence. To Wu Qing and Xianyi, the boy’s name meant nothing. But Lei Rhen? That name carried weight. And with it, a memory stirred—the news whispered only months ago. Had not Lei Rhen’s son perished?

  Xianyi narrowed his eyes, staff angled, voice hard. “Kid…we don’t have—”

  The sentence shattered as Xiao Lei moved. No warning, no pause. His body shot forward again, cleaving through air.

  The three scattered like startled crows, spreading wide to encircle. Lei Morin and Wu Xianyi bore down head-on, steel and staff converging, while Wu Qing, with only left hand, slashed from the right.

  Xiao Lei lunged. The onslaught shoved him back again and again. His bow rattled, deflecting arcs of steel and staff. Pain lanced up his left hand as Morin’s slash cut across it. He recoiled instinctively, only to find Wu Qing blocking retreat. Pivoting sharply, he narrowly evaded the streaking arc of the man’s blade.

  A sharp whistle split the night. An arrow zipped past his left ear. Lei San and Lei Mo pivoted from the flanks. Five against one, danger closing from all sides. Xiao Lei’s pulse quickened, but his face stayed calm, muscles taut, ready.

  Wu Xianyi’s staff ignited crimson and swung horizontally. Xiao Lei countered with a right hook. Bones rattled. A clawed spike shattered on his glove. Pain surged up his arm—but another attack followed immediately.

  Lei Morin’s fist crackled with lightning. “Thunder Fist!” he roared. Xiao Lei raised his forearms, taking the blow, hurtling across the cobblestones.

  The puppy’s anxious voice echoed faintly in his mind ‘Kid, I told you to endure.’ He said nothing in reply, jaw set, eyes cold, and rose to charge once more.

  Wu Qing’s laughter cut sharp. “Stupid kid! You don’t know how high the heavens are!” He slashed with his left hand. Xiao Lei twisted aside, only to be struck by Xianyi’s staff and Morin’s fist in tandem, sending him skidding along the cobblestones, scraping grit into his palms, bruised but unbroken.

  The trio moved to mock him—but their eyes widened mid-motion. Xiao Lei’s bow shot into his hands from his back, preternaturally fast. In a blink, two arrows flew toward Lei San and Lei Mo.

  Time seemed to freeze—the distance too short, their reactions delayed. Lei San’s arrow collided with Xiao Lei’s in mid-flight, splitting harmlessly. Xiao Lei’s missile did not falter—as it struck his target’s eye. Another followed, striking Lei Mo cleanly through the head, exiting with brutal precision.

  Xiao Lei landed lightly, body marked with slashes and bruises, face untouched. The minor threats had been dealt with; the little flies dispatched. Now, only the bigger fishes remained.

  He inhaled, muscles coiled like drawn steel, eyes glinting with lethal precision. No hesitation. He pivoted again, a shadow moving with cold, surgical intent.

  Xiao Lei struck with unnatural calm. Using even their own attacks to close the distance, he moved with terrifying precision. The trio’s scalps tingled with unease.

  “Damn it!” Lei Morin cursed, launching another furious onslaught. Again, the pattern repeated. Xiao Lei absorbed the blows, his body marked with deepening cuts and bruises, yet he pressed forward relentlessly. Occasionally, he landed counterstrikes on Morin or Xianyi—small, sharp reminders that the fight wasn’t over.

  The trio had long assumed that exhaustion would inevitably sap the boy’s strength. Yet, as the battle dragged on, a creeping horror settled in. Each strike they delivered seemed to drain far more Qi than expected.

  Wu Qing’s gaze flicked to the punctured beast-skin balloon. They had assumed it contained poison, yet their bodies felt no toxin, only an insidious depletion of energy. “It’s that… this boy is cunning,” Wu Qing muttered through gritted teeth, realization dawning. “We can’t last much longer.” He barked orders to Morin and Xianyi, and both saw the truth in his words—their Qi reservoirs were bleeding away unnaturally fast.

  The air behind them shimmered, an ominous prelude. Three illusory forms emerged. A green, four-horned, tri-tailed ox appeared behind Wu Qing.

  A massive black bat with crimson eyes hovered behind Wu Xianyi.

  Behind Lei Morin writhed a worm, gaping mouths at both ends.

  The trio had brought their Primordial Echoes to bear, intent on ending the fight quickly.

  Xiao Lei rose, shoulders tight with strain, the pressure of three powerful echoes pressing down like mountains. The trio advanced in perfect unison, their echoes resonating with their movements. Wu Qing’s skin gleamed emerald; Xianyi sprouted black wings, surging through the air to bring his crimson staff crashing down; Morin’s forehead bore a third eye, its gaze restricting Xiao Lei’s movements as if bending space around him.

  Xianyi reached him first. The staff arced for a fatal blow. Xiao Lei’s eyes flicked skyward, and an eerie howl cut through the night—a wolf-like sound, alien and chilling. Xianyi’s wings faltered, his body losing coordination, plunging downward as if seized by invisible chains. Wu Qing and Morin froze, dazed, their echoes trembling against an unseen pressure as a massive wolf materialized behind Xiao Lei.

  Xianyi froze, a gasp caught in his throat. Time seemed to stretch, his eyes wide, soul shaking, and before he could react, Xiao Lei was upon him.

  He seized Xianyi mid-fall, his fists raining a flurry of crushing blows. The remaining claws on his glove shattered on impact, the sound of bone and flesh colliding echoing sharply. Xianyi’s cries were abruptly silenced, his head reduced to a bloody ruin. Blood spattered across Xiao Lei’s arms, the boy’s expression cold, calculating, and unyielding.

  He turned to the remaining two, bloodied fists gripping the air, the remnants of Xianyi’s destruction glinting in the moonlight. Every inch of his body screamed with exertion, yet his gaze remained unflinching.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.