Chapter one: The Ember Returns
Hua Valley
Blood across the alley walls like smeared paint. Red from a thousand signs written in ancient strokes, no one reads anymore. Beneath the flicker of broken lights, a body crashed into a dumpster with a groan.
Another thug screamed as fire wrapped around his arm and exploded, turning him into the air like a rag doll. The scent of burnt leather filled the night. A shadow stepped from the smoke.
Tall, cloaked in black. His face hidden beneath a dragon mask. Only his eyes burning like twin embers were visible. He moved like a ghost, every motion precise.
"Where is Wu jin?" The masked man asked.
The last gang member standing, the youngest, fell to his knees. His essence flickered around him like cracked glass, a sign of his fear. Bloodline of the Wei clan, barely activated.
"I... don't know! He's gone topside! We don't see him...." A burst of heat ringed the air. The masked man raised his hands, flames dancing along his fingers.
"Wrong answer."
The boy sobbed. "Wait! wait! I heard something! He's guarding the black lotus vault! please.... I'm not one of them, I swear!"
Silence.
Then the fire vanished.
The Ember turned.
"Run," he said. "And pray you don't carry their blood."
The boy didn't wait to be told twice. He ran down the alley like a shot.
Behind the Ember, sirens wailed in distance, too late to matter. He stepped into the night, the flames around him going off into smoke that clung to his shoulders like a mantle.
Vengeance requires patience, and tonight the hunt begins.
Thirty minutes later, Black Lotus Vault.
The vault was guarded by Essence charged guards. Every one of them wearing the Han's armor.
One by one, they fell.
A spear of flame. A collapsing roof. A whisper in the dark, followed by a blade to the throat.
Ember moved with purpose, cutting through the guards. The Han clan believed they were untouchable, cloaked in bloodlines that traced back to the Han Dynasty, when Emperors ruled by the Heaven's Mandate.
But the heavens were silent now.
Inside the vault. Wu jin waited. Silver haired, eyes glowing green. Essence of wind. A direct descendant of the Han bloodline, and the man who slit Li Yang mother's throat fifteen years ago.
"Li Yang," he said, standing amidst stacks of jade bars and sealed scrolls. "You really lived."
"I died," Ember said. "And was reborn in flame."