Blood painted the canyon walls.
Shadow's lungs burned. His legs quivered with exhaustion, and the cut along his ribs had deepened—turning into a bloody gash with each desperate step. His robe was in tatters. Cuts lined his arms and back, and one shoulder hung lower than the other, dislocated from a brutal clash.
Before him, the assassin remained silent. Calm. Efficient.
His expression never changed—neither satisfaction nor cruelty. He was death wrapped in mortal flesh, and he had one mission:
Kill Shadow.
> "He's not even trying yet," Shadow thought bitterly, his knees buckling.
The difference in cultivation levels was too wide. Every time he used Thunder Step or Flash Blade, the assassin adapted. His reflexes were beyond sharp—they were surgical.
Shadow's Qi was already burning low.
Lightning still cracked at his fingertips, but the pulses were shorter now, less stable. His dantian strained with every breath, and his internal organs ached from repeated impacts.
The assassin stepped forward.
Shadow backed away instinctively.
> "Enough games," he growled, voice hoarse. "Say something. Who sent you?"
The assassin tilted his head slightly.
Then, for the first time, he spoke.
> "You climbed too high, too fast. The storm should've stayed beneath the clouds."
Then he vanished.
Shadow barely twisted in time. The assassin reappeared behind him, blade slicing toward his spine.
He ducked, but the edge caught his side, opening a deep gash. He screamed and rolled, thunder exploding around him in an erratic burst of defense.
The assassin paused, deflecting most of the force, but Shadow took the chance to bolt.
> "I have to run. I have no choice. I can't win."
Blood ran down his leg. His vision blurred.
Still, he ran.
Thunder Step activated at half strength, and he blasted forward through the canyon, weaving between rocks and leaping over narrow cliffs. The sound of his heartbeat was louder than the thunder now.
The assassin followed.
Silent. Unrelenting.
Shadow skidded around a bend and threw a bolt of lightning at the cliff wall. It exploded, dust and stone cascading downward. He leapt through the falling debris, hoping—praying—it would slow his hunter.
It didn't.
The assassin emerged, only moments behind.
Shadow's breath caught in his throat. His limbs screamed. His throat tasted of iron. He could feel consciousness slipping.
> "No. Not like this."
He sprinted harder. Through the haze ahead, he saw light—glowing towers and distant walls.
The city.
Mourning Wind City.
He was close.
> "Just a little further!"
The ground shook behind him. The assassin was gaining. Every footstep felt heavier. Every heartbeat was a countdown.
Shadow burst from the canyon trail onto the sloped path leading to the outer gates. Guards shouted as they saw him stumble toward the entrance, his figure a broken silhouette beneath the twilight.
Just as he reached the final stretch—
The assassin appeared directly behind him, blade raised for a final strike.
Shadow's body was too slow. He turned, but too late—
The blade fell.
And stopped.
A powerful **clang** echoed across the mountain path.
A hand had caught the blade.
A middle-aged man stood between them, his robes fluttering slightly from the force. His spiritual pressure flooded the area like a tidal wave, pressing the assassin backward.
> "That's far enough."
His voice was calm—but carried a power that silenced the air.
The assassin paused, reading the new arrival. His eyes flickered—measuring, calculating.
The man's presence was overwhelming, but precise—refined. Not a brute, but a master. His Qi did not roar—it crushed.
"Who—" Shadow gasped, but couldn't finish the question.
The man didn't turn.
> "You'll live. Rest now."
To the assassin, he said only one thing:
> "Return and tell your master—this city is under the Empire's law. There will be consequences."
The assassin hesitated. His fingers tightened around the blade. But after a long breath, he vanished into mist, silent as he had come.
The man turned to Shadow, kneeling.
> "You're safe now."
Shadow's eyes fluttered.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
He tried to speak, but all that came out was a whisper:
> "...Thank you…"
And then he collapsed.
The guards from the city gates rushed forward, their boots hammering the ground. The man stood and waved them down.
> "Take him gently. Have the inner physicians prepare their elixirs. This boy has the will of a dragon in him."
They bowed immediately.
> "Yes, Lord Commander."
The city lights flickered.
Storm clouds gathered far on the horizon.
As the guards lifted Shadow's battered body, one of them whispered, "What kind of monster was chasing him?"
Another guard responded grimly, "One that might return."
The man—now known as the Lord Commander—stood still, watching the direction the assassin had fled.
> "Then I'll be here waiting."
And so, Shadow's first step outside his sect ended not in triumph, but in blood, fire, and the narrowest thread of survival.
But for those who walked paths carved in thunder—
That was enough.
---
**End of Chapter 80 – Run Through the Veins of Death**