The warehouse looked abandoned.
Flaking bricks, broken windows, rusted scaffolding. It stood on the edge of South City's forgotten industrial district, long since overrun by weeds and decay. But Leon Fang wasn’t fooled by the surface.
The signal came from here.
After the Trojan had infiltrated his school’s surveillance system, Leon had traced the signal’s bounce path through five rerouted nodes, three obfuscated IP masks, and one silent dead-end.
It terminated at this exact location.
He stepped over a collapsed steel beam, sensing it before seeing it—Qi residue.
“Someone’s been cultivating here,” he muttered.
And not a beginner.
He pressed his hand against the brick wall near the back entrance. Cold. Not temperature—spiritual chill. A formation was embedded within the mortar. Old and dormant, but present.
Leon’s fingers danced over invisible sigils only a trained cultivator could sense.
The wall shimmered—and vanished.
Revealing a staircase descending into blackness.
—
The stairwell spiraled downward, deeper than any basement should’ve gone. At least four stories beneath the surface, Leon finally reached a narrow chamber lit by faint blue lanterns.
Symbols lined the stone walls—ancient, Taoist, etched in dragon’s breath ink. This was not a place built by mortals for storage.
This was a forgotten sect hall.
“Who rebuilt this?” Leon whispered.
A voice echoed from the darkness.
“You finally arrived.”
Leon tensed.
A man stepped from the shadows.
He was in his late twenties, perhaps early thirties, dressed in dark robes laced with silver embroidery. His eyes gleamed with restrained power.
“Do I know you?” Leon asked.
The man tilted his head. “You did. Once. Before the betrayal. Before Jinling burned.”
Leon’s breath caught.
“You were one of us,” he said slowly.
“I was,” the man nodded. “But unlike you, I didn’t die. I was sealed. Buried beneath the collapse. I awoke three years ago—this time, earlier than you.”
Leon narrowed his eyes. “What are you now?”
The man didn’t answer. Instead, he gestured to the walls. “This used to be a branch sect of the Azure Flame. Lost during the Southern Purge. I restored it.”
“With whose help?” Leon asked.
“The world has changed. Cultivation doesn’t rule anymore. Data does. Finance does. I aligned myself with those who adapt.”
Leon’s fists clenched. “You sold out.”
The man shrugged. “I survived.”
Their eyes locked.
“I suppose this is the part where we fight,” Leon said.
“No,” the man replied. “This is the part where I offer you a seat.”
Leon blinked.
“I’ve rebuilt this place from the ashes. I’ve gathered remnants from fallen clans. I’ve opened a new path. The others—the true enemy—they’re coming. We don’t have the luxury of ego.”
Leon studied him for a long moment.
Then he said, “You installed the Trojan in my school.”
“I needed to confirm if it was really you,” the man replied. “You’re not the only one with enemies.”
Leon didn’t answer.
Instead, he moved.
One step. Then another. And then—
A sudden palm strike, fast as lightning.
The man raised a jade talisman. It exploded in a burst of green light, blocking the blow—but not completely. He staggered backward, coughing.
“You always were predictable,” the man muttered.
“I needed to see if you were still strong,” Leon said calmly.
They stood across from each other, tension thick in the air.
The man chuckled. “You haven’t changed.”
“I have,” Leon replied. “I just hide it better.”
The silence stretched.
Then the man nodded. “If you change your mind, return here during the winter moon. The seal at the bottom of this chamber hides something you’ll want to see.”
Leon didn’t respond.
He turned and walked away, but his mind spun with questions.
—
Back on the surface, the cold wind slapped his face like a wake-up call.
He stood in the middle of the ruined street, staring up at the skyline of South City.
So many things were happening at once.
Enemies resurfacing.
Allies with unclear loyalties.
Underground sects awakening beneath urban ruins.
And her.
The voice in the jade. The memory he couldn’t erase.
He pulled the pendant from his shirt, holding it in the moonlight.
“You died because of me,” he whispered. “This time… I swear it won’t happen again.”
From a rooftop far behind him, a figure crouched with a small device aimed in his direction.
The lens zoomed in, auto-focused, and clicked.
Then the agent whispered into an earpiece:
“Target has made contact with another cultivator. Confirmed activity at Sub-Zero Node #14. Awaiting next orders.”
A female voice replied from the other end.
“Observe. Do not engage.”
“Copy.”
The figure vanished into the night.
And beneath the city, something ancient pulsed—awake once more.