——The Wind Doesn't Lie.But People Do
Shawn barely slept.
The parchment map lay sprawled across his desk, its faded ink etched into his mind like a brand.
The "V" marked a place he knew all too well—Dao Source Park, home to the ancient Laozi Palace, the birthplace of Taoism's legendary founder.
By dawn, his mind was made up.
Saturday morning broke crisp and bright.
He hopped on his bike, the wind stinging his cheeks as he cut through the waking city. Concrete faded to cypress, pavement gave way to moss-covered paths. The scent of damp soil and lingering incense thickened in the air.
He entered through the East Gate, passing weathered Taoist statues and stone tablets etched with lines from the Tao Te Ching.
The park was quiet. Too quiet. Yet in that stillness, Shawn thought he sensed something—a faint electrical buzz, like a machine idling just out of sight. Maybe it was just in his head. Or maybe something was waiting.
The map had led him to a pavilion beside the lake.
And someone was already there.
A lone elderly man sat on a stone bench, robed in deep blue. Silver hair swept back, not a strand out of place. His fingers traced slow circles in the water, sending ripples across the still surface.
As Shawn approached, the man turned. His eyes—sharp, far too sharp for someone his age.
"Sit," he said, smooth voice carrying an odd familiarity. "I'm William. We have much to discuss."
Shawn hesitated. But the Thunder Core beneath his shirt throbbed, as if urging him forward.
He sat.
Without a word, William reached into his robe and pulled out a photograph, sliding it across the stone table.
A purple jade pendant. Intricately carved with swirling patterns—just like Shawn's Thunder Core, but radiating a different kind of energy.
The Wind Core.
A jolt ran through Shawn.
.It was the same image Quinn had shown him.
"Is this yours?" he asked, unable to hide the urgency in his voice.
William chuckled softly. "No. But its wielder is near."
Shawn's brows knit. "Where?"
William gestured to the lake. "The island."
A small rowboat, half-hidden among the reeds, bobbed near the shore.
Shawn climbed in. The wood creaked under his weight. With each stroke of the oars, the water fell unnaturally silent.
Mist rose as he neared the island, curling like ghostly fingers toward the sky. Gnarled trees loomed ahead, their roots twisting through mossy stone like the veins of some ancient beast.
The air was thick. Too still. As if the island were holding its breath.
Shawn stepped ashore. Leaves crunched underfoot.
Had William lied?
Then—movement.
A tall figure in white robes emerged from the shadows. His garments billowed like drifting clouds. Around his neck hung the same pendant from the photo—the Wind Core.
Shawn froze. Recognition sparked like static in his chest.
The man tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. "You're looking for the Elemental Cores."
Shawn nodded, cautious, hiding his nerves.
"And you think you understand what they're for?"
His fingers brushed the pendant under his shirt, the Thunder Core cool and grounding. "I know they're more than artifacts. They unlock something... something old. And powerful."
A faint smile tugged at the man's lips. "You've learned more than most."
"I need the rest," Shawn said, firmer now.
The man's gaze narrowed. "Do you?" he said. "Then tell me—what's hidden inside the Wind Core?"
Shawn's mind scrambled. The symbols. Each Core bore one, visible only under certain conditions.
The Wind Core's symbol: a rooster.
This was a test—and Shawn knew it.
But if they were testing him, he would test them right back.
He held the man's gaze, then spoke with calculated restraint. "I haven't seen it directly," he said, his tone deliberately uncertain.
"What is it?"
The man's hand drifted to the pendant.
"A sign of ancient power," he replied, the words smooth—but evasive.
For a split second, Shawn's thoughts stuttered.
That wasn't what he expected. Not entirely false, but vague—too vague for someone who should know more.
A flicker of unease stirred in his chest, curling into the edges of his confidence.
Was the man hiding something? Or... bluffing?
Then his eyes flicked down.
The man's wrist. Exposed beneath the robe's sleeve.
Tattooed on the skin: O.S.S.
Shawn's blood ran cold.
He bolted to his feet—but the man was faster.
A dagger slid from his sleeve, its blade etched with serpentine runes. "Leaving so soon?" he purred.
Then—a slow clap echoed through the trees.
Shawn spun around.
Five figures emerged from the forest, clad in black.
Their movements fluid.
Faces hidden behind onyx masks.
Curved blades shimmered in their hands, glowing faintly violet.
At the center of them stood William.
No longer smiling.
The warmth in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a cold smirk.
"Did you really think you were the only one searching for the Cores?" he said.
Shawn clenched his fists, every muscle coiled. "What do you want?"
William sighed, as if bored by the question. "Everything," he said. "Your Core. Your cooperation. Your silence."
Shawn's jaw tightened. "And if I refuse?"
William didn't flinch. He snapped his fingers.
One of the masked figures stepped forward. Reached into his coat. A flick of the wrist—and a single photo drifted to the ground.
Shawn's breath hitched.
His parents. Standing outside their herbal shop. Smiling.
Unaware.
Being watched.
William stepped forward and tore off his mask.
Shawn staggered back.
Dan Parker.
Not an old man. Not even close.
His classmate.
"You... you're William?" Shawn whispered.
Dan smirked. "Did you really think I'd stay in your shadow forever?"
The Thunder Core burned hot against Shawn's chest, energy crackling beneath his skin.
He was outnumbered. Outarmed.
But broken?
Never.
They wanted a storm?
Fine.
He'd give them a hurricane.