Chapter 5: The First Clash in the Dark

The night was silent, except for the faint hiss of the stranger’s aura slicing the mist. Han Yuwei stood calmly, hands loose at his sides, posture almost lazy.

But his eyes… they were sharp, calculating, alive.

“You should be trembling,” the assassin sneered, stepping forward. “You’re a first-year brat. You’ve barely touched Qi, yet you carry the Threads of Creation. Hand them over, and I may leave you a whole corpse.”

Yuwei tilted his head slightly, lips curving into that infuriating half-smile of his.

“Whole corpse, hmm? Generous man. Normally robbers only leave a receipt.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed, aura flaring hotter. The air bent around him, pressure crashing down on the mountaintop. Rocks trembled, trees swayed violently, birds scattered into the night.

But Yuwei… he simply brushed some dust from his sleeve. “Is this your intimidation package? Honestly, I’ve seen scarier debt collectors.”

The assassin moved. One instant he was several steps away, the next his blade gleamed inches from Yuwei’s throat.

Yuwei leaned back just enough, the blade missing by a breath. At the same time, his fingers flicked subtly—and invisible threads in the air twisted.

The assassin’s footing slipped for a fraction of a second. It was small, barely noticeable, but Yuwei’s eyes lit with amusement.

So it works.

“Clumsy for a professional,” Yuwei said lightly, dodging another strike by half a step. “Was the floor too slippery, or are you just nervous?”

The assassin growled, slashing faster, strikes flowing like a storm. Steel blurred, sparks danced as the blade scraped stone, the very air shrieking from the speed.

But Yuwei weaved through it, not with brute force, but with timing and threads. A gentle tug here, a twist there—Qi shifted around him, slowing the assassin’s momentum, unbalancing his strikes.

It was like watching a dancer toy with a drunkard.

“Stand still, boy!” the assassin snarled, frustrated.

Yuwei chuckled, sidestepping with hands still clasped behind his back. “And here I thought assassins preferred silence. You’re awfully chatty for someone supposed to kill me.”

The assassin roared, aura exploding outward. This time Yuwei didn’t dodge fast enough—a blade grazed his shoulder, slicing cloth, drawing blood.

Pain shot through him, hot and sharp.

He winced, but his calm didn’t break. Instead, he smirked. “Congratulations. You’ve officially ruined my robe. That’s worth at least three debts.”

Then his hand flicked upward. Threads wrapped around a nearby rock, yanking it into the assassin’s path. The blade cut it clean in half, but the distraction gave Yuwei time to move—his body slipping behind his foe.

For the first time, Yuwei struck back. Not with fists, but with threads.

He tugged hard, weaving three at once, binding them into a rough pattern. The assassin staggered, his Qi suddenly misfiring, his aura spasming violently as if something invisible had tied his own energy in knots.

“What—?” the assassin gasped, stumbling forward.

Yuwei’s smile deepened. “New trick. I call it… Oops, Your Qi Slipped.”

The assassin snarled, ripping his aura free with brute force, shredding the threads. His killing intent sharpened like a blade to the throat.

“You think you’re clever. You’re just a child playing with powers you don’t understand.”

“Maybe,” Yuwei admitted, tilting his head. His calm eyes gleamed with a playful spark. “But apparently, even children can trip adults these days.”

With a growl, the assassin lunged again. This time, Yuwei moved differently—calm but sharper, weaving threads mid-dodge. He pulled, twisted, and suddenly the assassin’s own momentum betrayed him.

The man stumbled forward uncontrollably, crashing against a tree trunk. The impact shook the ground.

Yuwei laughed softly. “You fight like my drunk uncle. Are you sure you’re a killer?”

The assassin’s aura flared dangerously. His face twisted with fury, eyes glowing a deeper red. For the first time, Yuwei felt genuine danger radiate off him—like standing at the edge of a storm about to swallow mountains.

But instead of flinching, Yuwei muttered under his breath, “Finally. I was starting to think you were all bark.”

He braced himself, gathering threads around his hands, weaving faster, tighter. The night around him shimmered faintly, invisible to ordinary eyes, but alive with the hum of cosmic energy.

The assassin noticed. His gaze darkened. “You don’t even know who hunts you, boy. You don’t know what you are.”

Yuwei’s smirk softened, almost thoughtful. “Maybe not. But I do know one thing.” His eyes locked with his foe’s, calm and sharp as ever. “I’m not the one losing control here.”

The assassin froze for just a breath—then roared, charging in with killing intent that shook the mountain.