The forest stretched endlessly under the moon's dim glow, its towering trees casting long, ghostly shadows. The wind carried a biting chill, rustling the leaves in a whispering symphony that sent shivers down one's spine. The woman pressed forward, her footsteps careful but unwavering. The child in her arms remained still, his breathing soft and even, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around them.
She had left the stranger behind, but his words lingered in her mind like an omen.
The world has changed.
She knew it was true. She had felt it the moment her son opened his eyes. The tremors in the earth, the violent winds, the silent dread that spread across the land. And now, the mention of the Soul Mirror shattering only confirmed her fears. The world had taken notice of him.
But she would not let them take him.
A distant howl echoed through the night, piercing through the murky silence. Her grip on her son tightened as she quickened her pace, weaving through the underbrush. The village wasn't far now. If she could just reach the outskirts, she would be safe. Her father would protect them. He had to.
The path narrowed ahead, leading to a small clearing bathed in silver moonlight. She hesitated for a fraction of a second. Something felt… wrong. The air was heavier, thick with an unseen presence. Her instincts screamed at her to turn back, but she had no choice.
She stepped forward.
And then—
A shadow moved.
Before she could react, a figure materialized from the darkness, stepping into the light like a specter from the void. Clad in black robes with a silver mask obscuring their face, the stranger exuded an aura of quiet menace.
She halted immediately, shifting her son closer to her chest. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
The masked figure remained still for a moment before speaking, their voice as cold as the night air. "You should not have come this way."
She did not reply. Her hand hovered near the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath her cloak. She had no delusions about her strength—this person was strong. Perhaps even stronger than the first one she had encountered. But she was not helpless.
The figure took a slow step forward. "Hand over the child."
Her grip on the dagger tightened. "You will not touch him."
A sigh. "You misunderstand. We do not wish to harm him."
"Then why are you here?"
"To prevent what is to come."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
The figure paused, as if weighing their words. "The child… is an anomaly. He should not exist. And yet, he does. Forces beyond your understanding are already moving. The great sects, the royal clans, even those who dwell in the void have turned their eyes upon him."
She clenched her jaw. "He is my son. That is all that matters."
The masked figure studied her for a moment before exhaling softly. "You are brave. But bravery will not be enough."
In an instant, they moved.
She barely had time to react before the figure was upon her, their hand reaching for the child. With a sharp intake of breath, she twisted her body, pivoting away from the attack. Her dagger flashed in the moonlight, slicing through the air toward her assailant's chest.
A clang of metal.
The figure's arm shot up, effortlessly blocking the strike with a hidden blade. Their strength was immense—her entire arm trembled from the impact.
She stumbled back, breathing heavily. The child stirred slightly in her arms but did not wake.
The masked figure did not press the attack. Instead, they regarded her with something akin to curiosity. "Impressive. Most would have already fallen."
She remained silent, her mind racing. She could not win this fight. Not with her son in her arms. She had to escape.
The figure tilted their head. "You are delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later, he will be taken. By us… or by something far worse."
A flicker of anger burned in her chest. "I will die before I let that happen."
The figure was quiet for a moment before finally stepping back. "Perhaps."
And then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone, melting into the darkness as if they had never been there at all.
She stood frozen in place, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her hand clenched around the hilt of her dagger until her knuckles turned white.
Then, she turned and ran.
The village loomed ahead, its wooden gates barely visible against the dark horizon. Relief flooded her chest as she pushed forward, her legs aching from exhaustion. The guards stationed at the entrance recognized her immediately, their eyes widening in shock as she stumbled toward them.
"Lady Zhao?" one of them gasped. "You—"
"Take me to my father," she cut in, her voice firm despite her weariness.
The guards hesitated only a moment before nodding. One of them turned and rushed inside, while the other stepped aside to let her pass.
She barely registered the familiar streets as she made her way through the village. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, her body moving on instinct. She needed answers. She needed to know what was happening, why these people were after her son.
And more than anything—she needed to protect him.
As she approached the grand estate at the village's center, the doors swung open before she even reached them.
A tall man stood in the doorway, his imposing figure silhouetted against the dim lantern light inside. His presence was commanding, his aura suffocating.
Zhao Tian, head of the Zhao Clan. Her father.
His piercing gaze swept over her, lingering on the child in her arms before returning to her face. There was no warmth in his expression, only cold calculation.
"You have returned," he said, his voice heavy with unspoken judgment.
She met his gaze without flinching. "I had no choice."
A tense silence stretched between them.
Then, without another word, Zhao Tian turned on his heel and walked inside.
She followed, cradling her son tightly as she stepped over the threshold.
And behind her, hidden in the shadows of the village walls, a pair of unseen eyes watched their every move.
End of Chapter 17