The demon's hatred burned as it lunged, claws slicing through the air with terrifying speed. It wasn't just attacking—it was executing vengeance.
For years, it had craved this moment. The grudgefestering within, the rage that never faded—all of it led to this single strike.
Zhang's blood was the only thing it wanted.
"Keke, die!" the demon roared, its monstrous form surging with dark energy as it aimed straight for Zhang's throat.
Yun and Linglong moved instantly. Their bodies screamed in protest—exhaustion weighing them down, injuries biting at their limbs—but if Zhang fell, so would they.
Linglong lunged, her blade a streak of silver light cutting toward the demon's arm. At the same time, Yun's whip cracked, coiling toward its wrist to restrain its movement.
But the demon was too fast. Too strong.
A flick of its arm—Linglong was flung back, her wounded arm barely absorbing the impact. Yun's whip wrapped around its wrist, but in a single pulse of demonic energy, it was shredded to nothing.
Yun's breath caught. They couldn't stop it.
Zhang was about to die—
—until he vanished.
A flicker of light.
A void in the air where he had stood.
The demon's claws slashed through nothing.
Its snarl twisted into confusion for the briefest moment before—
"Behind you."
A whisper.
SHING!
A blade cleaved through flesh and bone.
The demon's glowing eyes widened. It tried to move, tried to turn—but its body no longer obeyed.
Its vision spun, its world tilting—until it realized the truth.
It was looking at its own body.
Its head was falling.
Thud.
Dark energy erupted from its decapitated corpse, the battlefield finally falling into silence.
Zhang stood motionless. His sword dripped with demonic blood, his expression unreadable.
Inside, he felt it—that subtle, unnatural absence.
Something had been taken.
The necklace's toll.
He clenched his jaw, suppressing the sensation. He couldn't afford to falter. No one could know.
Somewhere in the distance, unseen eyes watched from the shadows, a chuckle echoing through the night.
And far away, a woman who had buried the past felt her necklace tremble.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"…Zhang?"
….
The demon's corpse hadn't even cooled, but the air was already thick with bloodlust.
Not from the dead. But from the living.
Zhang, Yun, and Linglong didn't relax. No sigh of relief, no celebration. They knew better.
Their grips tightened. Their breathing was shallow but steady. They were already scanning their surroundings.
They could feel the stares. The ones who had been watching, lurking in the shadows, waiting for this exact moment.
"Tch. Like scavengers waiting for a lion to fall," Zhang muttered, flicking demon blood from his blade.
A figure stepped forward, grinning. He wasn't alone.
At least seven others emerged from the darkness,their weapons drawn. Their eyes gleamed with hunger—not just for loot, but for something more.
"Quite the show," one of them sneered, his gaze flicking toward the demon's fallen corpse. "Shame. If you'd all just died, things would've been much simpler."
Another laughed, twirling a rusted blade. "But since you're still standing, we'll have to do things the hard way."
Linglong spat blood onto the ground. She was in no condition to fight again.
Yun's hands tightened around her whip, her mind is racing. They were exhausted. Outnumbered.
Zhang didn't speak. His eyes swept the group, calculating.
Kill or trap?
Fighting meant risks. But dragging this out meant giving them an opening.
His fingers brushed against the necklace.
No. He couldn't afford to use it again.
A thin chuckle echoed behind the group.
"Kill them if you want."
The newcomers stiffened. They turned sharply—but the voice had no owner.
It came from everywhere.
Yun's breath hitched. Her stomach twisted.
Something was coming.
Zhang's grip on his sword tightened.
The scavengers hesitated. They had expected exhausted prey. Easy kills.
Not this.
The tension shifted. It wasn't them hunting anymore.
They were being watched.
The wind howled through the trees, and with it came a whisper—low, cold, ancient.