Under the shroud of the night sky came a cacophony — hundreds of weapons clashing, the dying thralls of warriors and demons alike. Blood flowed like rivers.
Tonight’s battle took place within the grounds of the Ashen Heart Sect.

In the middle of the carnage stood a man wielding a massive halberd that moved as though it were weightless. He shattered iron swords with a touch and cut through men as if they were tofu. This man was the Crimson Sentinel, Jin, a guest elder of the Iron Virtue Sect.

Beside him moved a swordsman whose presence seemed almost ethereal. He vanished into the darkness and reappeared before his opponent’s blade. His strikes were precise, silent, and fatal. This was the Sword Ghost, Shen.

The legend of these two warriors began nearly four months ago. The Crimson Sentinel Jin had once served as a hired warrior under the second-rate Iron Virtue Sect. He had joined every Vanquishing Call the sect undertook, and in time, his strength and ferocity earned him recognition. Within three months, he was inaugurated as a guest elder.

The ghost swordsman had similar beginnings. About three months prior, he had been inducted as an honorary protector by the first-rate Infinite Blade Hall.

They met often on the battlefields of the Martial Alliance’s crusades, answering its calls to purge unorthodox sects. Tonight was no different. The Alliance had pointed its blade toward the Ashen Heart Sect, a first-rate unorthodox order accused of corruption. While Nascent Soul practitioners clashed in the inner sanctum, Jin and Shen held the outer lines — preventing the enemy from reinforcing their doomed brethren.

Jin found himself wondering when killing had begun to feel so natural. When he first joined the Iron Virtue Sect, he’d fought unorthodox and demonic practitioners — people twisted beyond reason. The more he fought them, the more he saw what humanity could become: cold, monstrous, unrecognizable.

At some point, he realized that sparing such people only allowed more innocents to die. He remembered the days when he’d vomit or weep after taking a life. But even those emotions had faded with time.

Now, Jin swung his halberd with righteous indignation — and tonight was no different.

He faced an early-stage Core Formation cultivator, a fellow polearm user. The two were evenly matched in strength; each collision sent waves of heat rippling through the air like cannon fire. Jin felt the shock reverberate through his body but used the recoil to redirect his force, breaking down the impact before it reached his vitals.

While their power was similar, Jin’s speed and control were superior — and he had yet to manifest his Red Star. When the unorthodox cultivator unleashed a downward slash, Jin met it with an angled parry, twisting the momentum aside.

The enemy’s weapon tore from his grip, jamming into the ground. Before he could even plead for mercy, Jin’s halberd cleaved him cleanly in two.

Not far away, Shen moved like a drifting wraith. Where Jin’s strikes roared like thunder, Shen’s blade never sang.

His opponent, a mid-stage Core Formation swordsman, fought ferociously — his qi blazing arcs through the night air. But where the man’s sword screamed, Shen’s simply appeared, an absence that devoured light and sound alike.

Their blades met once. Sparks scattered, then vanished as though swallowed by the dark. Shen stepped past the man’s guard, intent threads coiling around his wrist like invisible wires.

“You rely too much on light,” Shen murmured.

In the next heartbeat, his sword tilted. The enemy’s stance faltered — his core split before his mind could even register the death. Shen exhaled softly, sheathing his blade. His movement stirred neither air nor ash. The bodies around him fell without a sound, as though even death feared to echo the Sword Ghost’s path.

When he turned toward Jin, his tone was calm.
“The east flank is clear.”

The battle waned soon after. The Nascent Soul cultivator from the Namgung Sect struck the final blow — lightning splitting the heavens as Namgung Ryun unleashed the Flux Blade Art. His sword blazed with imperial thunder, cleaving through the Ashen Heart Sect’s leader and ending his life in one blinding arc.

The thunder faded, leaving behind the scent of rain and burnt qi. Jin rested his halberd on his shoulder, surveying the ruined courtyard where the last of the sect’s banners smoldered.

Namgung Ryun descended from the sky, landing softly on cracked stone. His pale-blue robes were immaculate, the only sign of battle the faint static clinging to his hair.

“Guest Elder Jin. Protector Shen.” His voice was light, teasing. “Every time you two show up, half the enemy’s dead before I draw my sword. Are you trying to rob me of my fame?”

Jin smiled tiredly. “If you want, I can start swinging slower.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Ryun said with a laugh. “With that halberd, you’d empty a mountain faster than I could drain a cup.”

“You could always drink faster,” Shen said dryly.

Ryun blinked, then laughed louder. “So the ghost speaks — and with wit too. Namgung Sect is truly missing out. You sure neither of you wants to join us? I could use subordinates who kill first and think later.”

Jin leaned on his halberd. “Sorry, I’ve grown fond of breathing free air.”

“A shame,” Ryun sighed. “We’ve got better wine than whatever Iron Virtue brews in their gutters.”

Their laughter carried briefly before fading beneath the hiss of rain.

Ryun’s tone softened. “It won’t be long before the next call. Word from the Alliance says Mount Hua has found traces of more… experiments.”

Jin frowned. “More?”

“Apparently, the Crimson Flare Sect wasn’t acting alone. The Alliance claims to have found collaborators — smaller sects scattered across the provinces.” His expression dimmed. “You know how it goes. Announce a name, march an army, burn what’s left. Makes everyone feel like something’s being done.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Shen said quietly.

Ryun shrugged. “Conviction doesn’t matter. I swing where I’m told. But lately, it feels like we’re fighting shadows just so someone can say the light’s still working.”

He paused, then added, “The next Vanquishing Call will have a Mount Hua representative leading it — supposedly to ‘ensure justice is served.’ I’ll believe it when I see less smoke.”

“Do we know the target?” Jin asked.

“Not yet. The Alliance is choosing tomorrow. But you can bet it’ll be another sect small enough to burn, big enough to blame.”

Ryun clapped Jin’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Crimson Sentinel. Sword Ghost. You’ll need it for the next righteous cleansing. Maybe this time, politics will wait until after the killing’s done.”

With a flick of his sleeve, he turned away, lightning glimmering faintly along his blade before he vanished into the smoke.

For a moment, only the rain spoke.

“He sounds tired,” Jin muttered.

Shen nodded. “Tired men fight hardest when they stop believing.”

Jin looked toward the ruins, the embers glowing faintly red. “Then let’s make sure we’re the ones who know what we’re fighting for.”

Shen glanced at him. “Mount Hua’s pointing fingers now — naming sects, building reputation. They want to be seen as the spear of righteousness.”

“Why?” Jin asked.

Shen wiped the blood from his sword. “It’s been nearly five months since the survivors escaped. The envoys came up empty, which means Mount Hua knows we know. They’re nervous. By leading the purges, they’re building plausible deniability.”

Jin blinked. “Plausible what?”

Shen sighed. “They’re making sure that even if someone accuses them of involvement, no one will believe it — not when they’re the ones shouting the loudest about justice.”

Jin’s expression darkened. He said nothing, but Shen could read the tension in his eyes.

“Come on,” Shen said finally. “Let’s head back. I don’t trust Bao Kun’s childcare skills.”

Jin chuckled, and the two began their walk home — their laughter faint against the sound of rain and distant thunder.

"By the way what was that nonsense about 'you rely too much on the light'? Has the title Sword Ghost turned you into one of those Midnight moaners from the stealth sects"

Shen replied with an irritated expression "I'm telling Bao Kun you call him an old bastard when he's not around"

So the vanquishing call ended with the Crimson Sentinel begging the Sword Ghost not to tell on him to master.