The commotion drew the attention of the entire gang—including the black-clad warrior who now stepped forward, his expression dark and grim.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice cold.
"Just a passerby," Yun Xia replied. "Someone who can't stay silent when innocent people are being harmed."
"You're quite bold," the man sneered, drawing a pitch-black sword from his back. "You've picked the wrong fight with the Black Forest bandits!"
Yun Xia smirked. "What a strange name. Was there no name more terrifying, so you had to settle for something that ridiculous?"
"Bastard! You must be tired of living!"
"Seems like it's just your bad luck to meet me today," Yun Xia replied calmly.
The black-clad man, leader of the Black Forest bandits, grew even more enraged. "Let's see if your courage matches your words."
The duel erupted in the middle of the burning village. The other bandits stepped back, clearing space for their leader to face this young man.
Yun Xia lunged forward, launching his attack. He didn't hesitate to face his opponent's sword even with his bare hands. A red aura flared from his fists, clashing with the black blade. Sparks flew as their powers collided like opposing winds—heat against cold, light against shadow.
The bandit leader was stunned. He hadn't expected this calm-faced youth to withstand his strikes, let alone with bare hands.
"You're no ordinary warrior!"
Yun Xia gave no answer. He moved like a dance among flames and shadows—graceful yet deadly. Each punch didn't merely injure; it shattered the dark aura that blanketed the area.
Several other bandits attempted to intervene, but Yun Xia's attacks were too swift. Three of them fell in a single movement, sending the rest fleeing in panic.
The black-clad warrior was finally pushed back. Narrowing his eyes, he leapt onto a rooftop, attempting to escape.
But Yun Xia unleashed a burst of energy—a flash of red light streaked through the air and pierced the man's back. His body plummeted from the rooftop, dead before hitting the ground.
Silence enveloped the village, now shrouded in smoke. The villagers slowly emerged from their hiding places. An elderly man, his knees trembling, approached Yun Xia.
"Who are you, young man?"
Yun Xia looked at him gently. "No one of importance. Just someone taught never to let suffering happen before his eyes."
Without another word, Yun Xia turned and walked away, leaving the village as they began to put out the fires and rebuild their hopes.
---
Once the flames had been extinguished and the fear gradually faded, the villagers gathered at the main hall. They sat in a circle, whispering about the young man with the red sword who had descended from the mountains and saved them like a flash of lightning.
"Who was he really?" asked an old woman, cradling a small child.
"From the way he dressed and moved, he was clearly not just an ordinary traveler," the village chief replied, still wearing torn clothes, his voice hoarse from untreated wounds. "But what baffles me most is why he left so quickly without asking for food, let alone a reward."
"People like that are extremely rare," murmured a young man. "Usually, they're mercenary warriors—or members of sects seeking fame."
But Yun Xia never mentioned his name. He left nothing behind except the bodies of the bandits and the hope that had been reborn.
While the villagers speculated, Yun Xia continued walking alone along a quiet river at the mountain's base. The sun was beginning to set, and the gentle sound of flowing water offered a brief moment of peace after the heat of battle.
His stomach had been empty since morning. He didn't want to eat from the village he had just saved—not out of pride, but because he had been taught never to add to the burden of those who had just lost everything.
The young man washed his face, then squatted by the riverbank, observing the small fish swimming between the stones.
With a sharpened stick and reflexes honed through years of training, Yun Xia speared the water. A large fish wriggled at the end of his makeshift spear. A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"At last, I can eat," he thought, then resumed walking to find a proper spot to roast the fish.
Yet, behind this tranquility, he unknowingly crossed into forbidden territory. Yun Xia didn't realize the river had passed a hidden border—a secret domain belonging to an underground sect known as the Blood Shadow Sect.
This sect had never operated openly. Among warriors, they were only spoken of in hushed tones: masters of poison, keepers of curses, and trainers of assassins from childhood. Hidden behind the mists of the swamp, they were unseen by both friend and foe.
As Yun Xia roasted his fish over a small fire, two pairs of eyes watched him from afar. Quietly, two figures emerged from behind the trees.
"Are you lost, young man?" asked a woman with a gentle voice, though her tone was as sharp as a blade hidden in a flower's petal.
Yun Xia slowly stood, still holding the stick where his fish was roasting. He looked at them calmly.
The woman wore a dark robe of black and deep purple. Behind her stood a young man with red hair and eyes as sharp as a serpent's. Upon their chests was a symbol of a blood droplet with bat wings—the emblem of the Blood Shadow Sect.
"If this is your territory," Yun Xia said calmly, "I will leave immediately. I have no intention of causing trouble."
The red-haired youth sneered coldly. "Do you think this is some picnic ground? Every inch of this land is consecrated by the blood of disciples who died in loyalty. You've sat, eaten, and trampled over all of it."
The woman raised her hand, halting the young man. "Wait. This boy—there's something familiar about his aura," she said, narrowing her eyes as she studied Yun Xia. "He closely resembles the Golden Lion, Cia Sun. What is your connection to him?"
"I don't know who you're talking about," Yun Xia answered flatly. In his heart, he had no intention of dragging his master, who lived in seclusion on Mount Huashan, into this matter.
Yun Xia said nothing more, but in his silence, he realized that he was indeed in the wrong place. His eyes scanned the surroundings. Mist began creeping in from the east—a mist that was anything but natural.
"If you let me leave, I will not speak a word about this place," he said neutrally. "I'm no spy. Just a wanderer."
But his words only made the red-haired youth step forward.
"Since when has our sect trusted the words of strangers?"
The woman's voice remained soft but sharp as a blade. "Capture him alive. I don't care who he is—his aura is perfect for tonight's offering!"
Yun Xia sighed. Slowly, he drew the Crater Flame Sword from his back. A faint red glow shimmered, reflecting on his face, now hardened in focus.
"Looks like my roasted fish will have to wait."
Two shadows lunged at him. A black sword shot out from the woman's sleeve, while a metal-tipped whip exploded from the young man's hand. Their attacks were swift and silent—like venomous snakes striking from the underbrush.
But Yun Xia was ready. In a single spinning motion, he dodged the whip and parried the woman's sword. His body moved like water—soft yet powerful—absorbing and countering in a single breath.
And so, the battle by the river began.