The Blade Choir Descends
Twilight bled into the Reach, and with it came shadows.
Seven figures approached the basin—clad in shifting black silks, masks of horn and bone, their weapons coated in a sheen of dust-resistant lacquer. The Reaping Hand had arrived.
Above them, gliding silently like a vulture, was their flagship—The Obsidian Veil—casting its silhouette over the ruin. On its deck stood the commander, cloaked in ebon veils and metal runes. His name was Duan Yinshi, and his title was The Mourning Blade.
He raised one hand.
"Take him."
Battle Beneath the Dying Stars
The first assassin moved like a dart—low to the sand, twin sabers humming.
Li Shen didn't wait.
"Eighth Form: Whisper Beneath Wake!"
His blade flickered once, vanishing from view.
The assassin blinked—and then staggered, a deep cut already across his arm. The strike had landed before he'd seen it begin.
The others fanned out.
A spear lanced toward him. He ducked and rolled, water-qi surging as he twisted mid-motion.
"Ninth Form: Grasping Undertow!"
He redirected the spear's thrust with a palm, sending its wielder into his own ally. One fell. Two more leapt in.
Li Shen rose to meet them.
Steel flashed. Qi collided.
He parried a downward strike, letting the impact carry into a backflip, then countered mid-air with a slash that bent mid-path, cutting across both foes in an arc.
They fell.
Three remained.
And then Duan Yinshi leapt from the ship—falling like a black star, sword dragging a comet tail of screaming air.
Li Shen braced.
The Mourning Blade struck with grief and precision. His first blow cracked the sand, his second nearly shattered the Ocean Soul Blade's parry. But Li Shen flowed backward, redirecting instead of resisting.
"Tenth Form: Calm Before Collapse."
Stillness.
The Mourning Blade struck—
And was flung backward, his own momentum returned with brutal clarity.
He flipped mid-air, landing with grace.
"You are no child," Duan said. "That blade makes you arrogant."
Li Shen's breath was ragged.
"No. It humbles me. And it reminds me… that balance must be earned."
Their blades crossed once more—force against flow, grief against grace—until finally, Li Shen's spiral cut disarmed the assassin, sending his sword skidding across the sand.
Duan staggered, blood at his lips.
Li Shen stood still.
"This is your only chance," he said. "Leave."
The Mourning Blade looked up. And for the first time, his voice trembled.
"…So she did choose well."
Then he vanished in a puff of dust—retreating into shadow, leaving only silence behind.
A Dawn Rising
Li Shen stood over the basin, the sky above him slowly bleeding into pre-dawn hues.
Beside him, Shu Yan slept peacefully.
The Ocean Soul Blade shimmered, faintly humming.
And deep beneath the sands of the Reach, the temple's memory began to fade, finally at peace.
But far away, the Hollow Council stirred.
And war, once again, began to rise.