075 Black Mask

075 Black Mask

Gu Jie had always possessed an uncanny talent for gathering information. When one's cultivation revolved around avoiding misfortune, a keen sense of observation became second nature. It was no wonder she excelled at piecing together scattered clues into something more.

Arms crossed, she leaned forward, her voice steady and measured. “The black masks are tied to the undead. Thousands of years ago, a cult arose, devoted to the study of undeath—not merely its practice, but the philosophy behind it.” She paused, sweeping her gaze across us, making sure we followed. “That cult was purged. Or so history claims. Yet lately, there have been whispers of their resurgence. The disturbances in Deepmoor follow their pattern almost exactly.”

I frowned. “You’re saying they’ve returned?”

Gu Jie nodded. “Or perhaps they never truly left.”

That alone was concerning, but her expression told me she had more to say.

“There’s also the matter of a demonic cultivator infiltrating the Abyssal Clans. The rumors say they were behind the deaths of the Black Anvil Sect’s vice sect master and the City Lord’s son.”

Lu Gao stroked his chin. “Some say it was the sect master himself who died. Any truth to that?”

“No way to verify, but someone important certainly perished,” Gu Jie replied. “Regardless, if the Abyssal Clans are involved, then this is far worse than we thought.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then—Hei Mao fell to his knees.

No. He kowtowed.

My breath caught as his forehead pressed against the ground.

“Master,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I beg you… Let us hunt them down.”

Master?

I stared, stunned. Where was the sharp-tongued youth, always ready with a smug remark? The awkward boy who squirmed under too much attention?

Now he knelt, trembling, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

My chest tightened.

Ren Xun hesitantly raised his hand.

I exhaled. “Speak.”

He shifted under my gaze, clearly uneasy, but he forced himself to continue. “You asked me once about the black-masked cultivators.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I did. Get to the point.”

“Uuuh… I might have forgotten to say some things… He straightened, as if bracing for my reaction. “The Abyssal Clans… they once wore black masks as a symbol of their allegiance.”

Everyone tensed. Even Hei Mao, burning with quiet rage, stilled.

Ren Xun continued carefully. “I don’t know anything about worshiping undeath. But I recall reading about the masks. They were once a mark of their affiliation—though not all still follow the tradition.”

Ah. So that was his aim. A subtle attempt at damage control. He feared I’d take this knowledge and declare the entire Deepmoor Continent an enemy.

I wasn’t that reckless. Or that foolish.

Cultivators had a flair for dramatics—declaring blood feuds over spilled tea, waging sect wars over minor slights, swearing vengeance unto the tenth generation.

But that wasn’t me.

I arched an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me the black-masked figures we’re dealing with… might not actually belong to some ancient cult of Undeath?”

Ren Xun nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Just because they wear black masks doesn’t mean they’re all from the same group. It could be a faction within the Abyssal Clans… or something else entirely.”

Fair enough.

“Noted.” I didn’t press the matter further. “Anything else?”

Ren Xun exhaled, his shoulders loosening slightly. Clearly, he had expected me to start a war over this revelation. “No, that’s the main thing. I just wanted to make sure you had all the facts before making any decisions.”

I glanced at Hei Mao. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid, but he held his tongue. The fury from earlier still simmered beneath the surface, though he did a decent job of containing it.

I gave a slight nod, mostly to myself. “Then let’s focus on what we actually know and not jump to conclusions.”

I tapped my fingers against my arm, letting Ren Xun’s words settle before asking, “Alright. Then tell me—how did the Abyssal Clan system even start?”

I had read about the Abyssal Clans. Or at least, what was permitted for outsiders to know. At the very least, they were an established force known across the continents.

Ren Xun took a deep breath, crossing his arms. “You want the short version or the long version, Senior?”

“The important parts. And keep the embellishments to a minimum.”

He smirked. “You wound me.” Then his expression turned serious. “The Grand Ascension Empire didn’t simply rise from nothing. It spread through conquest, and at the heart of it all stood the Grand Emperor himself. The way history tells it, he didn’t just command armies—he personally carved his way across continents, defeating experts one by one. His strength alone was said to be enough to suppress an entire continent with a single hand.”

I raised an eyebrow. That sounded like the usual historical embellishment, but I let him continue.

“At first, the Emperor intended to halt his expansion at six continents. That was his original goal. But then, he encountered a problem… Deepmoor.”

I tilted my head. “What made Deepmoor different?”

Ren Xun’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The cultivators of Deepmoor had powerful backing—the Abyss Clan.”

I frowned. “The Abyss Clan. Not the Abyssal Clans we know today?”

“Correct. They were different back then—more… fanatical. Their entire existence revolved around war. Not just any war, but war without end. They funneled undead from the Evernight Continent, unleashing an endless tide of corpses against the Empire. No matter how many soldiers the Empire sent, the Abyss Clan replenished their forces with the very dead they slew. It was an unrelenting nightmare.”

A chilling tactic. One that made me understand why even an empire as vast as Grand Ascension would hesitate. It reminded me of liches and necromancers back in LLO, but with a twist.

I exhaled. “So how did the Empire stop them?”

Ren Xun exhaled. “At first, they didn’t. The Empire suffered heavy losses, and the Grand Emperor realized that if he kept pushing, he might not win. So instead of throwing his forces into a losing war, he changed tactics—he sought an alliance.”

“With who? Get to the point.”

“The White Clan of the Evernight Continent,” Ren Xun answered. “They were powerful in their own right, but unlike the Abyss Clan, they weren’t obsessed with war. The Grand Emperor forged a marriage alliance with them. With their support, the tide turned. The Abyss Clan was eventually suppressed, and Deepmoor’s cultivators had no choice but to submit. Riverfall Continent followed soon after, becoming the eighth territory under the Empire’s rule.”

I absorbed the information, piecing it together with what I already knew. The Grand Emperor had been powerful enough to subjugate entire continents—yet even he had struggled against Deepmoor’s undead-fueled warfare. It had taken an alliance to end the conflict.

And now, centuries later, rumors of black-masked figures and undead cults were surfacing again.

“Sounds like history’s trying to repeat itself,” Gu Jie muttered.

Ren Xun pressed on, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of history. “After suppressing the Abyss Clan, the Grand Emperor didn’t leave things as they were. He didn’t trust them. Not completely. So he forced a marriage alliance upon them to ensure their cooperation. The Abyss Clan, knowing they had no other choice, agreed—but only on the condition that certain… practices would still be permitted in Deepmoor.”

I frowned. “Practices like what?”

Ren Xun met my gaze. “Necromancy. Blood rituals. Dark arts that would’ve been forbidden in the Empire’s heartlands.”

“And the Emperor allowed that?”

“Not exactly. He imposed strict conditions. The Abyss Clan was forbidden from practicing umbramancy—their most feared legacy—and they were tasked with policing Deepmoor’s cultivators, ensuring their practices remained within ‘acceptable’ limits.” Ren Xun exhaled. “On top of that, the Emperor ordered an annual audit. Imperial officials would arrive each year to ensure they weren’t stepping out of line.”

I could already guess how that went. “And they just accepted that?”

Ren Xun let out a dry chuckle. “Not without fury. To them, umbramancy wasn’t just a technique—it was their very identity. Stripping it away was like gutting their soul. But they played along. On the surface.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re saying they didn’t actually accept it, did they?”

If I had the option to skip the cutscene, I would’ve taken it. But I kept listening.

Ren Xun shook his head. “Of course not. They schemed.”

“Typical,” Lu Gao remarked.

“To outmaneuver the Emperor, the Abyss Clan split itself in two. One branch swore loyalty, rebranding themselves as the Black Clan. They upheld the alliance, followed imperial law, and played the role of obedient subjects.”

His voice darkened.

“The second branch disappeared into the shadows.”

Gu Jie exhaled, already seeing where this was going. "And they became the Shadow Clan."

Ren Xun nodded.

"I’ve come across their name once or twice in my investigations… but never anything conclusive. I’ve never heard of the term ‘Abyss Clan,’ but I knew the Black Clan and the Shadow Clan shared a past."

"Because they erased it," Ren Xun confirmed. "The Black Clan rewrote their records, severing all ties to the Abyss Clan. They even abandoned the black masks. Officially, the Shadow Clan didn’t exist. Unofficially, they continued practicing umbramancy, preserving the Abyss Clan’s true teachings."

Hei Mao’s eyes narrowed. "And the Empire just let that happen?"

"They didn’t know," Ren Xun admitted. "Not at first. By the time suspicion arose, it was too late. The Shadow Clan had already buried themselves too deep, and every attempt to root them out ended in failure. Over the centuries, they faded into myth."

His expression darkened. "But that wasn’t the end of it."

I crossed my arms, waiting.

"With the Emperor’s favor, the Black Clan wasted no time solidifying their position. They used their newfound authority to legalize certain… techniques."

"Techniques banned in the rest of the Empire," I guessed. “That was part of the deal with the emperor, yes?”

Ren Xun inclined his head. "Yes. Exactly. But it wasn’t just for their own benefit. The Black Clan created a system to shield the Shadow Clan from scrutiny—the Abyssal Clan. They structured it from the ground up, drawing in sects, families, and factions from across the continents who practiced taboo arts. Instead of being hunted or exiled, these groups were given a place to exist legally—under the Black Clan’s supervision, of course."

I frowned. "So the Abyssal Clan… isn’t actually a single clan?"

"No. It’s an entire network." Ren Xun’s tone was matter-of-fact. "A collection of disparate groups, bound together by the same need—survival. The Black Clan’s logic was simple: contain them, regulate them, and make them useful. It was a compromise—a way to turn a threat into an asset."

And one that could benefit the Empire in the long run. Better to control something dangerous than to destroy it outright.

I let out a slow breath. "And that actually worked?"

Ren Xun exhaled. "For a time. But secrets never stay buried forever. Eventually, an Imperial Auditor uncovered the truth. The Black Clan’s involvement was exposed, and the Emperor was furious."

I didn’t need to ask what happened next. The answer was obvious.

"He personally punished them, didn’t he?"

Ren Xun lowered his head. "Yes. Half the Black Clan was slaughtered. The Shadow Clan suffered the same fate. But even with such a brutal reckoning, the damage had already been done. The Shadow Clan survived, and the Black Clan remained as Deepmoor’s rulers. Yet since that day, they’ve been bitter rivals, blaming each other for their downfall—never realizing it was the Emperor who orchestrated their division."

I tapped a finger against my arm. "The Black Clan must see the Shadow Clan as traitors who ruined everything."

"And the Shadow Clan sees the Black Clan as the ones who got caught," Ren Xun finished. "Their feud has never ended. Even now, they scheme against one another, fighting for control over Deepmoor." He hesitated. "At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I imagine the Black Clan is still in a far better position than the Shadow Clan…"

I took a deep breath, letting the weight of the story settle in. "So these black-masked people we’ve been wanting… they might be from the Shadow Clan?"

Ren Xun’s expression darkened. "It’s possible," he admitted. "But be careful—don’t mistake the Abyssal Clan for your enemy. It’s just a system, a shelter for many factions. If you want the real culprits, the ones pulling the strings from the dark, then the Shadow Clan is where your investigation should lead."

There was an unspoken plea behind his words. He was warning me—not just about the Shadow Clan, but about the danger of making a reckless move.

I met his gaze and nodded. "I understand."

Then I turned to Hei Mao. "What do you want to do?"

Hei Mao clenched his fists but didn’t hesitate. "I trust Ren Xun."

That was expected. Ever since he received the bracelet with the magatama, he had acknowledged Ren Xun in his own way. I glanced at Ren Xun, who looked somewhat pleased but was clearly trying to maintain a neutral face. Yeah… his affection points were definitely working overtime.

Hei Mao exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I’ll stay calm and follow your lead."

I nodded. "Then it’s decided. Our next destination is the Shadow Clan."

Gu Jie clicked her tongue. "Leaving the city won’t be easy."

Ren Xun crossed his arms. "With the formations reinforced? No chance. I have confidence in Senior’s strength, but if Senior destroys those barriers, we’ll have more trouble than we can bargain for."

He wasn’t wrong. Blasting our way out would put a giant target on our backs—not just from the city guards, but from every major force in Deepmoor. The Black Clan, the Imperial Auditors, the Abyssal Clan—all of them would descend on us in an instant.

But I already had a plan.

I turned to Ren Xun. "How confident are you in sneaking the boat out of the docking area?"

Ren Xun blinked, then grinned. "Compared to breaking through the city’s formations? Infinitely easier." He cracked his knuckles. "Getting the boat out quietly is a much smaller problem than deciphering an entire city’s defenses."

"Good," I said. "Then we’re doing that."

Ren Xun pumped his fist, his grin widening. "If I fail, I’ll spell my name backward from now on."

I stared at him. "That’s some dedication."

He smirked. "It’s called confidence."

I shook my head. "We’ll see."