Outside, the forge was still burning. The spiritual coal accumulated inside fueled the flames with fury, causing tongues of fire to dance like serpents among the rubble. Thick, dark smoke rose toward the sky.
Xuan Fei arrived at the scene, his face contorted with rage. His robe, disheveled and stained, showed how hastily he had left upon receiving the news. Beside him, Xuan Rong walked in silence, brow furrowed, and a few steps behind, Black Centipede, unshaken, calmly observed the disaster.
The flames lit up Xuan Fei's face with reddish flashes.
"Who dares...!?" he roared, his voice loaded with rage and spiritual power. His shout echoed among the destroyed walls, making even the smoldering embers tremble.
A figure descended from the sky, flying on a gleaming sword.
It was the City Lord. He landed on the broken stone remains.
"Patriarch Xuan," he said in a firm tone. "What happened here?"
Xuan Fei clenched his teeth, holding back words that wanted to come out dripping with venom.
"I don't know, City Lord. I just received news that our forge was attacked by unknown enemies."
The City Lord silently observed the burning remains.
"An old enemy, perhaps?" he asked in a neutral tone. "Have you offended anyone recently?"
Xuan Fei didn't respond immediately.
The City Lord narrowed his eyes at the lack of response, sensing something.
"Be that as it may... I hope your family can resolve its own disputes without dragging the city into it."
Without waiting for a response, he turned around and firmly ordered the city guards who had arrived to help extinguish the fire.
Patriarch Xuan stood staring at the place with fury burning in his eyes. His breathing grew heavier by the second, as if forcing himself not to lose control.
Behind him, Xuan Rong furrowed his brow. His expression wavered between disbelief and awe.
"Father... was it them...?" he asked cautiously.
Xuan Fei did not respond immediately. His face was tense.
"It must have been them," he muttered bitterly. "They're the only ones who have dared to confront us lately."
But before he could continue, a swoooosh tore through the air. An invisible projectile was speeding toward Xuan Rong's heart.
There was no warning. No murderous aura. Only the whistle of death.
TCHAK!
The impact was clean, brutal. The bullet pierced the young man's chest as if his defense didn't exist. Flesh, bone, and blood exploded in an instant. The force of the shot flung him like a broken puppet.
"Rong'er!" Xuan Fei shouted, his voice cracking for the first time in years.
Xuan Rong fell on his back, eyes wide open and body trembling. Blood bubbled from his lips. He tried to speak, but only a wet gasp escaped before his body went limp.
Time seemed to stop.
Black Centipede took a step forward, eyes narrowed, but said nothing. His gaze locked in the distance with precision, as if he already knew exactly where the shot had come from.
Beside him, Shen Yinfeng looked toward Xuan Rong's body. He frowned without showing emotion, then lifted his gaze toward the city's edge, evaluating silently.
"NO!" Xuan Fei roared. He knelt beside his son's body, lifting him in his arms as if sheer will could wake him. His robe soaked in blood. His breathing erratic, his gaze a mixture of disbelief and pure fury.
He looked up, focusing on the direction the attack had come from. Without another word, eyes bloodshot, he shot off in that direction with his sword drawn and a cry of rage that echoed through the city.
A few meters away, next to the City Lord, a guard approached cautiously.
"City Lord... should we intervene?"
The City Lord frowned, following the trail of energy Xuan Fei left behind.
"Send a group of guards to investigate. After all, murder is not permitted within the city's limits." He paused briefly. "But don't go too far. In the end, this is a Xuan family matter... not our problem," he said with a cold snort.
Without adding more, he turned, mounted his floating sword, and rose into the air, calmly flying away as the tension at the scene was just beginning to build.
On a dark rooftop, V-12 precisely closed the bolt of his rifle, ejecting the smoking shell.
He caught it in the air with a swift motion, held it between his fingers for a second, then stored it in a small pouch attached to his thigh.
"Target neutralized," he murmured coldly to himself.
Without another word, he stood up and vanished into the shadows, without looking back.
He descended from an adjacent rooftop and slipped through a series of alleys until he reached a brighter area: the night market.
Paper lanterns hung between the stalls, casting a warm light over the goods. The usual bustle was tinged with an unusual murmur. Several people looked toward the sky, where a column of dark smoke rose in the distance, toward the city center.
"Did you see that?" whispered a merchant, covering his goods with a tarp.
"Looks like... the Xuan smithy."
"From the Xuan Family? Impossible..." replied another, lowering his voice upon noticing a cultivator nearby.
"Seems like someone set it on fire."
"Bah, rumors. Probably just an accident with spiritual coal," said a third, shrugging.
The market kept operating, though with more caution. Some cultivators looked toward the smoke with interest, as if considering going to investigate. Others simply kept drinking or bargaining, oblivious to what had happened.
V-12 blended among them with ease.
He stored the rifle in a long sheath, hiding it beneath a travel cloth as if it were a carpenter's tool. He covered his face with a common cloth, like those worn by porters. He walked between the stalls with a confident stride, without haste or visible tension. As soon as he entered the main area, he bought a strip of dried meat, held it for a few seconds like any other customer, and continued walking. No one stopped him. No one looked twice.
Then, a muffled blast shattered the market's relative calm. A second later, a pressure wave made several hanging lanterns vibrate.
Xuan Fei emerged from one of the side alleys, his robe rippling from the impact and his sword drawn.
His face was a mask of fury. He had felt the attack. It came from this area. The killer was close. Perhaps still hiding among the crowd.
His spiritual perception expanded instantly. The market was full: low-level cultivators, mortals, merchants, travelers. Sounds, scents, and spiritual fluctuations mixed together.
He couldn't pinpoint the attacker.
And then, his fury overflowed.
His eyes turned red. His steps thundered. Killing intent gathered around him like suffocating pressure. If he couldn't find the culprit, he would make everyone pay. If he had to kill every person present to eliminate the killer, he would.
Several cultivators stepped back upon sensing his intent. A child began to cry. An old man fell to his knees, trembling. No one dared to speak.
Xuan Fei raised his sword, charging it with spiritual energy. His murderous aura wrapped the area like a tightening rope.
At that moment, a voice echoed directly in his mind.
"Xuan Fei. Enough."
It was a spiritual transmission. Clear, authoritative.
"If you do something foolish, I'll kill you myself."
Xuan Fei froze. His sword still raised. The accumulated power vibrated, ready to be unleashed.
He took a breath. Then another. Slowly, he lowered the sword.
"I hope the City Lord investigates what happened," he muttered, still tense.
No response came.
The transmission had ceased. Silence was absolute, as if the warning had been the only thing permitted. The message was clear: one more misstep, and not even his surname would protect him.
His eyes returned to their natural color. The spiritual pressure gradually faded.
With one last glance at the crowd, he turned on his heel and leapt onto the nearest rooftop. He vanished among the rooftops, continuing the search.