The air between them
crackled, not with the lingering dark energy of the slain demon, but with a
tension far more potent, a primal recognition of formidable power. Mo Yuer
felt a jolt, a strange resonance in her spirit core, as her violet eyes locked
onto the cold, crystalline gaze of the man before her. His posture was rigid,
sword held with an almost inhuman stillness, every line of his body speaking of
disciplined strength. He was human, undeniably so, yet his Qi signature was
unlike any she had encountered – pure, potent, and utterly devoid of the
chaotic fluctuations she usually sensed in mortal cultivators. He radiated an
icy authority that both repelled and fascinated her.
He wields his energy like
a sharpened winter's blade, she thought, her grip tightening on her crescent moon
blade. Precise. Ruthless. A hunter.
Han Feng felt a familiar chill, not of the night, but of ancient warnings
resounding in his blood. His eyes, honed by countless battles, quickly
registered the subtle, almost imperceptible markings on her skin, the faint,
shimmering aura of dark Qi that pulsed around her, even as her features were
undeniably beautiful, framed by unbound dark hair. And those eyes – a haunting
violet, unlike anything natural. He had been taught to recognize them, to
despise them.
A demon, the word echoed in his
mind, stark and unyielding. Here. Protecting humans?
Impossible. A trick.
Neither spoke. The
symphony of the ravaged town—distant screams, crackling flames, the wet thud of
soldiers battling lesser fiends—faded into a muffled backdrop. Their silence
was a challenge, a wary dance between two apex predators who had inadvertently
shared a kill. Mo Yuer's internal struggle was immediate. Her mission was
peace, understanding between realms. But his stance, his aura of rigid
hostility, spoke only of ancient enmity. She saw the flash of recognition, of
condemnation, in his eyes, even before he knew her identity.
"Who are you?"
Han Feng's voice, when it finally came, was a low, resonant growl, cutting
through the chaos like honed steel. It held no question, only a demand.
Mo Yuer's lips, usually
soft, thinned. She could flee. She could melt into the shadows, disappearing as
swiftly as she had appeared. But something in his unyielding gaze, in the
silent challenge of his presence, anchored her. And a child's fearful face, still
vivid in her mind, reminded her of her purpose.
"A protector,"
she replied, her voice soft but clear, carrying a surprising strength. She did
not reveal her name. Not yet. Not to this human whose eyes already saw a
monster. "And you? Another hunter from the Human Palace?" The last words
were tinged with a subtle, almost imperceptible scorn. Her people knew the
Human Palace primarily as executioners, not protectors.
Han Feng's jaw
tightened, a muscle clenching beneath his skin. Protector? A demon claiming to
protect? The audacity. "I am Han Feng, General of the Imperial
Guard," he declared, his voice rising, carrying the weight of his rank. He
took a single, deliberate step forward, his sword tip lowering fractionally, an
invitation to a duel. "You trespass. This is human territory."
"Trespass?" Mo
Yuer let out a short, mirthless laugh, a sound like wind chimes in a blizzard.
"It was your human weakness that invited the fissure. Your inability to
keep the balance. I merely helped clean your mess." Her words were a barb,
aimed precisely, testing his composure. The raw truth in her statement was
undeniable. The fissure had indeed been a human failing.
His eyes narrowed,
glacial fury sparking within them. "You dare speak of weakness, demon? It
is your kind that sows chaos, that hungers for destruction!" His Qi
surged, a palpable wave of cold energy radiating from him, pushing against the
encroaching shadows of the town. He was ready to strike. He would not tolerate
this insolence, this open defiance from a creature he was sworn to eradicate.
He recalled his father's words, cold and sharp: "Do not fail." And
failure, in this instance, would be to let this demon escape.
"And it is your
kind that judges without understanding," Mo Yuer retorted, her own Qi
rising to meet his, a dark, flowing current that coiled around her, vibrant and
alive, yet controlled. It was a power born of moonlight and shadow, ancient and
subtle, a stark contrast to his overwhelming force. She saw the judgment in his
eyes, the ingrained prejudice, and a flicker of the old anger, the resentment
of her persecuted lineage, flared within her. "Who truly protects the
innocent? One who slays indiscriminately, or one who acts with mercy, even
against her own nature?"
The accusation hung in
the air, a silent question that pricked at Han Feng's rigid resolve. He
remembered the child, fleeing, yes, but unharmed. And he had felt it – a surge
of her power intersecting with his own to strike down the
monstrous demon. It was an anomaly. A demon, showing mercy? His logical mind
rejected it, yet the evidence of his own senses persisted.
"Mercy from a demon
is a lie," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "A
trap." His sword began to hum, a low, ominous thrum that vibrated through
the ravaged ground. He moved, a blur of motion, his blade flashing in the
moonlight, a silver arc aimed not to kill, but to disarm, to capture. He needed
answers.
Mo Yuer anticipated the
strike. His speed was astonishing, his form flawless. She met his attack with a
fluid grace, her moonlight blade shimmering. Steel met solidified moonlight in
a burst of sparks and a sharp clang that echoed through the ruined streets.
Their duel was a dance of opposites: his power direct and forceful, hers subtle
and evasive. He pressed, each thrust a calculated blow, seeking to find a
weakness, a chink in her demonic defense. She flowed, deflecting, parrying, her
blade a silver haze around her, probing for an opening, a vulnerability in his
unyielding stance.
He's strong, she thought, her
muscles singing with the exertion. Stronger than any human I've
fought. And his Qi… it's like ice, capable of shattering mountains.
She's fast, Han Feng conceded
internally, his mind racing, analyzing her every move. Her movements are unnatural, like smoke. Her Qi is dark, but not…
chaotic. Controlled. Dangerous.
Their blades clashed
again, a furious exchange of strikes and parries. Mo Yuer spun, a violet blur,
her blade a whirlwind aimed at his sword arm. Han Feng parried, the force of
her blow sending a jolt up his arm, forcing him to shift his weight. He countered
with a swift lunge, aiming for her center of balance. She twisted, barely
avoiding the thrust, and their eyes met again, closer this time, the intensity
of their gazes undimmed by the furious choreography of their fight.
Just then, a guttural
roar, far more immense than any before, ripped through the air. A new fissure,
wider, more volatile, erupted just beyond the town's crumbling eastern gate,
spewing forth a legion of greater demons, their forms grotesque and shrouded in
a palpable aura of malice. The ground trembled.
Han Feng's concentration
wavered for a fraction of a second, his gaze instinctively drawn to the fresh
threat. He saw the sheer number of them, the raw power emanating from the new
rift. His detachment, already stretched thin, would be overwhelmed.
Mo Yuer saw it too. The
new wave. This wasn't just rogue demons now. This was an invasion. Her own
people, some of them, twisted by the very dark magic she sought to quell. A
shared enemy.
Their blades, still
locked in a stalemate, suddenly pulled apart. The unspoken decision was made
simultaneously. The personal conflict, the simmering enmity, had to be set
aside. For now.
"More are
coming," Han Feng stated, his voice devoid of his earlier aggression,
replaced by a grim pragmatism. "Can you... contain that rift?" He
didn't ask for her help. It was a question of capability, of strategic
assessment.
Mo Yuer looked at the
swirling vortex of dark energy, then back at him, her violet eyes still
intense, but a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps reluctant
alliance—passing through them. "I can try. But your forces will not hold
them back here."
He nodded, a sharp,
decisive movement. "My forces will regroup and focus on the town's
perimeter. Hold them at the rift. I will join you once the inner threats are
contained." It was an order, yet framed as a necessity. He didn't trust
her, not fully, but he recognized her power, her demonstrated ability to affect
the larger demons.
Without another word,
Han Feng turned, his gaze sweeping the ruined town. "Tianlei! Shen Rui!
Fall back to the main square! Form a defensive perimeter! Bai Qianyu, with me!
We cut through the center!" His voice, sharp and commanding, sliced through
the din of battle, rallying his scattered forces. He moved, a whirlwind of
silver and steel, disappearing into the chaotic fray.
Mo Yuer watched him go,
a strange mix of emotions swirling within her. Curiosity. Resentment. And a
grudging respect for his unwavering resolve. He was a paradox – a cold,
judgmental warrior, yet one dedicated to protection. She looked at the
expanding fissure, its sickly green glow intensifying. The true battle had just
begun. And for now, she was fighting on the same side as the Human Palace
General, the man whose every fiber should have been her enemy. With a sigh that
stirred the dust around her, Mo Yuer launched herself towards the new rift, her
moonlight blade a silent promise of furious defiance. The night was far from
over.