The Interrogation went smoothly after that, with the death squad telling him everything he wanted to know.
Xiao Ren stood to the side, ignoring the wary glances being sent his way, his mind preoccupied by what he had learned.
'So it's been a day and a half since I left the base, that means I have a day left before I enter stage two.' he thought.
The invisible grim reapers blade hanging over his neck was now mere inches away from him, without his notice.
A small smile crept onto his face, which sent shivers down the death squads backs. Some of them even struggled to scoot a little further away from where he was.
"Interesting." He turned to face the terrified group, the half baked smile still there. "I thank you all for what you have done for me." He took a bow.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I think it's time for us to part ways. Oh I do hope you can escape later on!" He teased as he walked away chuckling in the wind.
The group watched Xiao Ren retreat into the forest with nated breaths, only managing to relax when he disappeared from view.
The look on their face was that of one grateful for life.
"Mei!" Lin Shu, the operative that now had a long bloody scar running across his face called, garnering her attention. "What did he say to you that made you so surprised?"
Mei Qianhua visibly shook upon hearing his question, as her mind briefly remembered the horrific experience she had just a few minutes ago.
She remained silent, as she tried to take control of her thoughts.
Lin Shu who was patiently waiting was about to erupt, when mei replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
"He knew who we were?"
Lin Shu who was closest to her heard her and was also taken back. The other two operatives who were slightly farther could not hear her, but from Lin Shu's expression, they knew it was truly ground breaking.
Zhao Liang the assassin that has his head bashed in impatiently roared:
"What_what is it!"
Lin Shu remained quiet, hoping he had heard wrongly, but seeing mei's expression, he knew he wasn't mistaken.
Mei who was already stressed as it was, yelled back:
"He knew who we were, he knew who we fucking were!" Her emotions reached it's peak as tears flowed from her eyes.
The implication of such news dawned on them. Zhao Liang and the now one eared operative looked towards where Xiao Ren had disappeared, and couldn't help but replace his image with that of a demon's.
If he knew who they were, didn't he already know who sent them? He had gotten the major information he would've wanted to know without torturing them, but instead by theur mannerisms.
Lin Shu burst into laughter, startling them.
"We were sent on a death mission."
Lin Shu's laughter echoed in the wind. Hollow and mad.
---
Unaware of what was happening back there, Xiao Ren made his way through the forest, following the map he had gotten from the females operatives body, on it a small clearing not far from where he was was marked in red, with the wordings coppergrass vale on it.
Not long after his journey, Xiao Ren came across a small clearing, that resembled a small paradise in the middle of the wilderness.
Looking at the map and calculating how far he had worked, he nodded his head in satisfaction.
'So they didn't lie.'
The clearing opened like a hidden breath in the forest—quiet, untouched, and unnaturally still. Just ahead, near the edge of a narrow stream, a small patch of plants stood out against the wild undergrowth. Their stalks were thin but sturdy, tinged with a faint copper sheen that shimmered beneath the filtered light. The leaves were serrated and sharp-looking, curling slightly inward like claws trying to protect something. Each plant bore small, pale-blue blossoms that pulsed faintly with dew, almost as if the flowers themselves were breathing.
Coppergrass.
Xiao Ren took a step forward—but then, the world tilted.
A sudden wave of dizziness struck him like a blow. His vision blurred, knees buckling as he stumbled to the side, barely catching himself on a tree trunk. The bark felt rough beneath his fingers, the pain grounding him momentarily. But it wasn't enough.
The body that had moved with such lethal grace earlier now felt broken—crushed under the weight of bruises, cracked bones, and exhaustion. The strength, the terrifying precision, it had all vanished like smoke in the wind.
Michael's consciousness surged forward, and with it came the backlash.
He dropped beside a bush and vomited again, more bile rising to scorch his throat. The acidic taste mixed with the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. His arms trembled. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
Then the tears came.
Silent, hot tears that slid down his cheeks and disappeared into the forest floor. He dropped to his knees, gripping the earth like it could anchor him to reality. His voice came out in hoarse, cracked fragments as he mumbled to himself, desperate and broken.
"N-not me… I didn't want to… I didn't… I couldn't stop it…"
But the memories didn't care. They came anyway.
The sound of flesh tearing, of Rain slicing through air and cartilage. The man's scream. The sight of the severed ear dropping to the dirt. The paralyzed fear in the others' eyes. He had felt it all. He had watched it all—from inside.
What terrified him the most wasn't the violence, but the smile.
That cold, detached smile. His body had smiled. While they begged. While they bled. While he—Michael—had screamed internally for it to stop.
And it had nearly gone further.
He remembered the exact moment Xiao Ren's instincts had urged for a final strike—for silence, for death. The way his body had shifted ever so slightly toward it. And how he, with every ounce of remaining will, had screamed, No!
Just barely... barely, the body had listened.
But now, even as he crouched among roots and leaves, he could still feel it—that other presence. Lurking deep inside. Watching him. Judging.
"Pathetic."
The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It echoed from somewhere inside, soaked in cold scorn. A whisper laced with knives. He couldn't tell if it was Xiao Ren's memory or something else. But it felt real.
Michael gasped, eyes wide.
His breath shook. His ribs ached. He forced himself upright, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
"I'm not… I'm not like him…"
The words sounded hollow even to himself.
He turned back toward the coppergrass. The flowers were still there, waiting. Gently swaying in the wind like nothing had happened.
Michael staggered over, falling to his knees and plucking a few careful stalks. The leaves sliced his fingers slightly—sharp to the touch. He barely flinched. Pain felt distant now. Almost dull.
With the coppergrass secured, he turned slowly, limping back toward the outpost. The forest stretched endlessly before him, but his eyes remained on the path. Every step burned, but he kept moving.
Behind him, the clearing remained silent.
And so did the voice.
—for now.
---
The two death squad members who escaped, hurriedly made their way back to the outpost, fear fueling their bodies. Even though they were tired, they didn't dare stop as the thought of him chasing them, was enough motivation for them.
Due to their diligence, a journey that took them six hours to make, was covered in three.
The guards who manned the entrance were surprised when they saw two figures rushing towards them.
They readied their various weapons, ready to cut down the coming intruders, only to be stumped as they recognised who the figures were.
"Isn't that..." A guard asked, only to be interrupted by another.
"Yes... They just left a few hours ago." He replied.
They stowed their weapons away and patiently waited for the two to approach them.
"Hey what_ happened...?" the first guard asked air as the two operatives blew them off, hurriedly making their way into the base.
"Asses!" The first guard cursed under his breath as the second guard consoled him with small taps on his back.
---
The two operatives passed through the winding passages, blowing past rebel soldiers and other staff on site. They reached a point in the outpost that was slightly deserted compared to other sections of the outpost.
Instead of standard rebel soldiers walking by, there was a squad of death squad personnel standing around a door, their gazes sharp enough to scare anyone away.
The death squad members who stood guard, saw two figures quickly approaching their position.
Five of them readied their weapons, ready to engage, when a man with a red bandana wrapped around his head raised his arm, signalling them to stand down.
"Grey hound, ash beetle!" He called, slowly approaching the two.
Seeing who had called their names, the two operatives came to a halt, finally catching their breaths. Their legs trembled like that of a new Born's.
Even though they were tired, they had to pass on a message before it was too late.
Seeing the urgency written in their faces, the death squad operative signalled his squad to step aside, allowing them to pass.
They threw a greatful glance his way before rushing to the door. Once there, they managed to stabilise their breathing, aware of the person they were about to meet temper.
Grey hound stretched his arm out, before knocking in the door, the sound echoing in the almost empty hall.
Seconds passed by as their hearts thumped in their chests.
A deep voice sounded from inside:
"Come in."
Wasting no time, greyhound opened the door, before stepping in with ash beetle.
The room resembled Xiao Ren's own, as it was a huge cavern, slightly smaller than his own, but the aesthetic and decoration was the same to a Tee.
They walked along the dark carpets, towards a lone desk. Behind it, they saw a man looming tall on his chair.
His icy blue eyes locked on their figures, reminding them of whose presence they were in.
They lowered their eyes and instead focused on his collar, where two silver rings shone in the dark, a symbol of his rank and authority.
They knelt on the ground, their fists smashing into their chests in greeting as a sign of respect.
"Report," came the voice–low, composed and colder then steel.
Ghost hound lifted his head, high enough to not be looking at the ground, but low enough to not make eye contact before speaking.
"Our squad encountered the outpost elder on the outskirts of mount Tabitha, six hours from here, the direct opposite of where the intel said he would be.
He looked roughed up, and very tired, so my squad decided that we could handle him on our own... That was our error as he took down four of our operative's with relative ease without using his blade once." He stated, pausing to take a deep breath.
Because their heads were lowered, they didn't see the man's change in expression.
Ghost hound continued "Although four of our operative's were taken down, they managed to injure the elder on his arm and his stomach."
"Ash beetle and I escaped, not daring to risk our capture, in order to pass this information to you."
Done with his report, he stepped back to meet ash beetle, returning to his bowed position.
Silence followed. The only sound was the faint hiss of burning incense.
The man remained still for several long moments, as if deliberating something,before he raised a hand.
"You may leave."
They scrambled up with rigid bows, shuffling backward before turning and vanishing beyond the door.
Now alone, the man slowly stood.
He reached to the side of the chair and pulled free a weapon resting in the stand beside it.
A changjian–a double-edged straight sword, long and elegant, with a black scabbard etched in silver cloud patterns. He unsheathed it in one clean motion, the blade whispering against the wood.
Pale candlelight danced on the pristine steel.
He gazed at his reflection in the swords surface–sharo eyes, expression unreadable.
"Injured..." He murmured, the word a whisper drawn out like a blade. "By a couple of death squad members?"
A beat.
Then he laughed.
The sound echoed hollow through the chamber –low, amused and dark enough to chill bone. Not loud, but deep. Controlled. Ominous.
"So the poison is finally dragging you down, is it?"
He turned slightly, shadows shifting across his face.
"Even he, master is not invincible..."
The corners of his mouth curled into a quiet knowing smile.