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Ch.02 — Dust

  Three days.

  Xu Mo walked. Azure Capital unchanged. Lanterns. Merchants. Scent of spice.

  They did not know sky fractured.

  They did not see woman in white robe.

  They lived.

  ---

  Eastern market. Crowded. Xu Mo moved along edges. Black robe unchanged. Three patches.

  Ahead. A crowd.

  He stopped.

  ---

  Crowd circled something. An old man. Collapsed. Dirty clothes. Face to ground.

  Xu Mo approached.

  Hand. Trembling.

  He knew that hand.

  ---

  He turned body over.

  Same face. Weary eyes. Wrinkled. Scar at neck.

  Old man from tavern.

  ---

  Blood on chest. Single hole. Small. Precisely at heart.

  Not ordinary wound. Not knife. Not sword.

  High-level technique. One thrust. Pure qi. No one heard. No one saw.

  Xu Mo knelt.

  ---

  Three nights ago. Tavern. Wine. "You may be the last remaining. Besides me."

  Now no "besides me."

  Now only him.

  ---

  Xu Mo's hand searched corpse's robe. Inner pocket. Something.

  He pulled.

  Torn cloth. Old. One character written.

  火.

  Fire.

  ---

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Xu Mo stared at character.

  Yan Clan. Fire Clan.

  Clan erased fifty years ago. Clan considered dead. Clan with inherited technique, controlling fire from within.

  But this old man had scar at neck. Same as Xu Mo's.

  Xu Mo had different character on his neck. Water.

  Shui Clan. Water Clan.

  Two clans. One scar.

  Why?

  ---

  Crowd grew restless. City guards arrived.

  Xu Mo stood. Torn cloth into robe.

  He stepped back. One step. Two steps. Vanished into crowd.

  ---

  Turn left. Narrow alley. Turn right. Passage.

  He stopped. Wall. Leaned back against it. Breathed.

  Fire. Water.

  Two elements. Two clans. One enemy.

  Who killed his clan? Who still hunted survivors?

  Answer lay in small hole in old man's chest. Pure technique. God-level.

  In this world, only one place could teach technique that level.

  Palace.

  ---

  Night. Immortal Wine House. Xu Mo sat same corner. Same table. Same cup.

  Wine. Untouched.

  Outside, red lanterns. Inside, laughter. People forgot.

  Xu Mo did not forget.

  ---

  Door opened. Two men entered. Not sect disciples. Not merchants.

  Dark clothes. Light movement. Eyes constantly scanning.

  Spies.

  They sat two tables from Xu Mo. Did not see him. Xu Mo made sure.

  ---

  "News from north."

  Soft voice. But Xu Mo heard.

  "Tie Yan moving fast. Next month. Maybe sooner."

  "And inside?"

  "Handled. Several officials already... agreed."

  "Emperor?"

  "Silent. Empress holds control now."

  "And the old man?"

  Silence.

  "Dead. This morning. At market."

  Xu Mo closed eyes.

  They killed him. Not because he was threat. Because he was witness. Because he knew something.

  What did he know?

  ---

  Two men left. Xu Mo did not move. Long time.

  Cup in his hand froze again. Ice melted. Water dripped.

  Water.

  Fire.

  Two elements in one scar.

  Or... two clans. One blood?

  ---

  Xu Mo rose. Coin on table. Foreign stamp. He left.

  Night wind. Still cold. Too cold. From north, black clouds. Closer than three days ago.

  Fracture in sky widened. Faint. But there.

  Xu Mo walked.

  He had one character. One clue. One reason to keep living.

  Find who killed his clan. Find why. Find connection to fracture in sky.

  And one name.

  Tie Yan.

  ---

  Behind him. Immortal Wine House. Still lively. Still laughing. Still alive.

  They did not know.

  At eastern market, old man's corpse already removed. City guards found nothing. No witnesses. No traces.

  As if he never existed.

  But Xu Mo knew.

  He existed. He spoke.

  He drank wine together. He said, "You may be the last remaining. Besides me."

  Now. Only Xu Mo.

  Sole survivor.

  ---

  Sky. Fractured.

  Wind. Cold.

  Xu Mo. Walking.

  Alone.

  ---

  **To be continued...**

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