099 Shadow of The Past

099 Shadow of The Past

Hei Mao felt anxious.

The distant echoes of battle rumbled beyond the halls, and though he tried to steady his breath, his fingers twitched at his sides. He wasn’t confident—wasn’t even sure how skilled he really was. Strong? Weak? Competent? Incompetent? He didn’t know.

Elder Yuan had taken a strange liking to him and taught him some stealth techniques, whispering cryptic advice about patience and precision. “Move with intent. See without being seen.” But stealth alone wasn’t enough.

Big Brother Dai Fu—no, Senior Dai Fu—had taught him how to handle his strength, how to recognize his own limits and push them. “Power without control is self-destruction. Feel the weight of your strikes. Know your enemy.”

Big Sister Gu Jie had sharpened his instincts. “People reveal more than they intend. Watch, listen, understand.”

And then there was that stupid Big Brother Ren Xun, who, of all things, taught him how to run away. “Retreating is survival. The living have more chances than the dead.”

He hated to admit it, but there was wisdom in their words.

Right now, they were inside the Umbral Scripture Hall, the one place they had been permitted to stay. Even with all the knowledge at their fingertips, Hei Mao couldn’t focus on any of it.

Instead, he watched Ren Xun as he worked, adjusting and fine-tuning the Puppet Armor—the very same armor that had once been Senior Dai Fu’s body.

After a few final tweaks, Ren Xun straightened. “Finished.”

Hei Mao stiffened. “So… can we go now?”

Gu Jie shook her head before he could even take a step. “No.”

Hei Mao frowned. “Why not?”

Gu Jie crossed her arms. “Because I was put in charge of making sure we stay safe.”

Hei Mao scowled, frustration rising. Outside, the Shadow Clan was fighting off an invasion. He wasn’t useless—he had trained, learned, adapted. Yet here he was, stuck inside while others risked their lives.

As if sensing his frustration, Ren Jingyi twirled around Gu Jie, her translucent fish-like form floating in her sphere of water. She shimmered, twisting through the air before turning to Hei Mao.

“It will be fine,” she whispered, her voice only for him.

He glanced away, unwilling to argue with a fish.

Meanwhile, Ren Xun jerked his fingers slightly, and the Puppet Armor shifted.

The construct’s joints groaned as it raised an arm in stiff, jerky movements. Then, with another twitch of Ren Xun’s fingers, it adjusted its stance, standing straighter.

Ren Xun let out a slow breath. “I can’t believe that worked.”

Hei Mao narrowed his eyes. “You sound surprised.”

Ren Xun gave an awkward chuckle. “I, uh… had to dismantle some parts of the Floating Dragon.”

Hei Mao stared. “What?”

Gu Jie sighed. Ren Jingyi twirled through the air again, humming softly.

Ren Xun just grinned. “Eh. It’s fine. Probably.”

Hei Mao watched as the Puppet Armor settled into an unnatural stillness. The way it moved earlier—stiff, mechanical—didn’t inspire much confidence. If this was supposed to be their trump card, then they were already in trouble.

Gu Jie studied the armor with sharp eyes before turning to Ren Xun. “How long can you maintain control over it?”

Ren Xun tapped the pouch at his waist, considering. “With the spirit stones I have? Probably fifteen minutes, give or take.”

Gu Jie didn’t hesitate. She reached into her robes, retrieved her own spirit stones, and transferred them to him. “Now?”

Ren Xun weighed the pouch in his hand, furrowing his brow. “Eighteen to twenty minutes.”

Gu Jie nodded, as if this outcome was expected. “That’s good. In an emergency, we’ll at least have a Seventh Realm-level force to rely on.”

Ren Xun snorted, shaking his head. “Not exactly. It wouldn’t be anywhere near Seventh Realm strength. Might not even be comparable to the Sixth or Fifth.” He adjusted his grip on the Puppet Armor’s control talisman and shot Hei Mao a glance. “The only reason I can even move it is because of how well-read I am in formations. The problem is… I’m just a Martial Tempering cultivator. If I’m at Second Realm at least, we’d have better chances.”

Hei Mao frowned. So it was strong, but not that strong.

Still, it wasn’t useless.

“What will it take for us to rejoin the fight?” he asked, glancing between them.

Gu Jie remained silent for a moment. She had let them engage before, running a few hit-and-run tactics—but then, all of a sudden, she had pulled them back.

She sighed, rubbing her temple. “You’re too eager.”

Hei Mao didn’t deny it.

Gu Jie turned to Ren Xun. “What’s your take?”

Ren Xun leaned back against a pillar, arms crossed. “I rigged the whole library with whatever talismans I had. Place is well-protected.” He shrugged. “Theoretically, we could hole up in here for a while.”

Hei Mao opened his mouth to speak, but Ren Xun raised a hand, cutting him off.

“But—that would be strategically unwise.”

Gu Jie nodded, prompting him to continue.

“Not using resources when we could use them gives the enemy more chances to win. The library might be safe, but staying in one place means we’re reacting, not acting.” He smirked slightly. “Not to mention, we’re sitting on a lot of valuable knowledge. If the enemy gets in, it’s a problem. And trust me, they will want to get in. If not to secure the place and protect them, probably burn the place.”

“No,” Gu Jie said one word and Ren Xun was quiet.

Hei Mao clenched his fists. The frustration had been building inside him, and he could no longer hold it back.

"Why are we here instead of helping?" His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care.

Gu Jie turned her gaze toward him.

Hei Mao continued, his jaw tightening. "I need to grab one of those black-masked bastards and ask them what happened. Why my parents, why my sister—why did they have to die like that?" His fingers twitched, itching to draw an arrow. But what would that do? A bow wasn’t the right weapon for the kind of confrontation he wanted. If he could, he’d throw it away and carve the truth out of them with his bare hands.

But there was another problem. A simple yet infuriating one.

"For the short time we were out there," he said bitterly, "we didn’t even fight a real cultivator. Not one that was alive, at least. I want someon… who can tell me the truth."

That was what disturbed him the most.

The battlefield outside was a nightmare—a legion of undead roamed, as if something had raised an entire graveyard to march against the living.

Where were the black-masked cultivators? Surely they weren’t all hiding behind their creations?

“I am sorry, but this is for the best,” Gu Jie exhaled and explained. "Because if we were out there, it would only get worse."

Hei Mao frowned. "That... what? That doesn’t make any sense."

She met his gaze, her voice calm but firm. "My Sixth Sense Misfortune tells me so."

A chill ran down his spine. He had heard about her ability before, but this was the first time she was relying on it so decisively.

"Misfortune doesn’t tell me what will happen," Gu Jie continued, "only that something will happen. And the longer we stay out there, the greater the disaster."

Hei Mao gritted his teeth. He hated this. The feeling of being held back. The thought that somewhere out there, the people responsible for his family's death were walking freely while he sat here, doing nothing.

But Gu Jie wasn’t someone who made decisions lightly. If she said it would get worse, she meant it.

And that meant one thing.

Something was coming.

The moment stretched, heavy with an unnatural stillness.

Then, it came.

A shadow shifted by the doorway. Silent. Unannounced. As if it had always been there, watching.

Hei Mao's breath hitched as his instincts screamed at him—danger.

The figure stepped forward, the dim light of the Umbral Scripture Hall barely illuminating his form. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a teasing smile that sent a chill down Hei Mao’s spine.

"Wow," the man drawled, voice smooth and amused. "I never thought I’d see you again..."

And then, he locked eyes with Hei Mao.

The world narrowed. A sudden, suffocating pressure settled on Hei Mao’s shoulders, and he had to force himself to breathe.

This wasn’t a stranger.

This was someone who knew him.

Hei Mao narrowed his eyes and lifted Eye of the Sun, his magic bow radiating a faint golden light as he drew the string, though no arrow had yet formed.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Before an answer could come, Gu Jie acted. Her Accursed Whip lashed out, striking through the air with lethal speed—

Only to pass harmlessly through the man, as if he were nothing but mist.

The figure chuckled, shaking his head. "Sweetheart, that won’t work. I’m just a shadow. My real body is outside, fighting your Master… or at least, a fragment of him."

Hei Mao tensed, his grip tightening around his bow. Master Da Wei?

"Your Master has quite an interesting technique," the shadow continued, tone rich with amusement. “It took a chunk of my forces, but I managed to exile him to the Black Forest.”

Ren Xun was breathing nervously, his gaze sharp. "Why do you look so much like Hei Mao?"

The man clapped his hands together, clearly entertained.

"Ah, introductions, right? Let’s do that properly."

There was something unbearably casual about his tone, as if he were indulging them rather than answering seriously.

"I am Shenyuan," he declared. "Founder of the Abyss Clan… and the late Patriarch of the Shadow Clan."

Hei Mao’s breath hitched. The late Shadow Patriarch?

Shenyuan strolled around the hall, his gaze tracing the intricate formations and talismans etched into the walls and floor.

"Hmm… these resemble the work of the Heavenly Eye quite a bit."

Ren Xun frowned. "You mean the Grand Emperor, right?"

Shenyuan scoffed, waving his hand as if brushing away dust. "So that’s what he’s called now? Almost forgot."

There was something unsettling about the way he spoke—like someone recalling an old acquaintance rather than a legendary figure.

Then he sighed, shaking his head in exaggerated lament.

"A shame I can’t be here with my main body. The formations and talismans here are quite the divine work of a genius."

Ren Xun scoffed. "Don’t call me that. That word is reserved for people who are truly special."

Shenyuan smirked. "How humble."

Gu Jie’s frown deepened, and sweat glistened on her brow. She didn’t speak, but her grip on the Accursed Whip tightened.

Ren Xun, for all his usual bravado, wasn’t unaffected either. His fingers twitched slightly, but he still maintained a steady pace, adjusting his glasses with an air of calm. "Are you his father?" he asked.

Shenyuan laughed. "What an odd assumption."

Hei Mao scoffed before the shadow could continue. "I know what my father looked like."

"Ah, so cold!" Shenyuan clutched his chest in mock hurt, before flashing an easy grin. "But you’re right. I am no father to you. Merely an ancestor, that’s all. Distant, yet ever-present in your bloodline."

Hei Mao’s eyes widened. Something clicked.

Like a whisper in the void, a raving voice stirred at the back of his mind. His past—his past as a ghost—peeked out from the depths of his memories, ugly and raw.

The words tumbled from his lips, almost incoherent. "That’s my body," he murmured, staring at Shenyuan.

The realization clawed its way out of him, spilling into the air, louder.

"That’s my body."

Again.

"That’s my body!"

Memories flooded in—his parents, his twin sister. The warmth of family. The security of home. Then the horror. The day it was all stolen from him. The day his own body was possessed.

A suffocating dread gripped his chest. The murky, half-forgotten images of that time became clear, sharpening like a blade against the whetstone of his fractured mind.

"No! No!" Hei Mao choked, his breath ragged.

A tide of wickedness, dark and suffocating, crashed into him. He remembered the moment his heart was filled with terror and rage—how he had watched everything he loved burn.

How he had dragged his little sister’s lifeless body from the ruins.

How he had slit his own throat.

How he had sundered his own soul.

Shenyuan clicked his tongue, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. "If not for that meddling fragment of Da Wei, my main body would already be here, tearing through these defenses. Impressive work, by the way. Immaculate, even. But ultimately futile in the face of my might. Hey, your Masyer is putting up quite a fight."

Hei Mao barely heard him.

His breath quickened. His chest rose and fell, uneven. A sickening sensation crawled up his throat, and suddenly, he was there again—his fingers wrapped around his twin sister’s neck, her struggling form beneath him.

He felt it. The resistance. The terror. The way her small hands had clawed at his arms, the light in her eyes dimming as he—

"No… no…" His knees buckled, and his vision swam as inky black tears rolled down his face.

"Hei Mao!" Gu Jie’s voice snapped through the haze, sharp as a blade. "Shut up, you bastard!" she roared at Shenyuan, her whip coiling and tightening with barely restrained fury.

Ren Jingyi twirled through the air, the fish’s ethereal form gliding in a soft, reassuring glow. "It’s okay, Hei Mao," she said, her voice soft yet insistent. "Everything will be okay."

A familiar warmth settled over him as her Bless spell took effect. Light pulsed through his body, clearing the suffocating weight from his chest. The inky black tears rising from his eyes turned to mist and dissolved into nothing.

Hei Mao steadied himself, fingers curling into fists.

He stared directly at Shenyuan, his eyes burning with newfound resolve.

"Why did you kill my family?" His voice was steady. Cold.

Shenyuan sighed, rubbing his temple as if the question exhausted him. "Why else?" he said lazily. "To erase any evidence of my escape. If the Heavenly Eye had found me, I’d have been ended long ago. Simple self-preservation, really."

Hei Mao’s fingers curled tighter around Eye of the Sun, his knuckles stark white against the dark wood of the bow. His voice was steady, but the fury beneath it trembled like a drawn string ready to snap.

"I will kill you."

Shenyuan shrugged, entirely unbothered. "Nah, I’m all good."

Before anyone could react, his form collapsed into a formless shadow and lunged—not toward them, but toward the Puppet Armor.

Ren Xun blanched. "Fuck."

The runes carved into the armor flared to life, reacting to the invasion, but it was too late. The dark mass seeped through the cracks, vanishing inside like ink bleeding into paper.

The armor twitched.

Then, Shenyuan’s voice echoed from within, smooth, amused. "No worries, I’ll kill you last."

The Puppet Armor’s joints creaked as it took a step forward, its dull metal eyes igniting with an unnatural gleam.

"And as for the kid, the lass, and the fish?"

The armor lurched, raising a hand that crackled with stolen power.

"Farewell."