"Your father would be proud," the man said, now certain the girl couldn't hear him.

The truth was, the burden of carrying the secret of Aurora's existence had earned him excommunication from his school. All for vowing his life for someone other than the school’s leader.

However, the importance of that bloodbath had triggered a wave of events that he could only predict to a certain extent. Kaji School’s army would be forced to march for days, rain, and sun, seasoning their Zen bodies and minds.

The prophecy was real, and the blood moon would rise in sixty days. Preparations would have to be completed much earlier. The man had long been waiting for this moment. It appeased his soul to know that his and his old partner's plan had worked.

Knowing that the girl wouldn't be up for a while, he decided to set his hands to work. Aware of the measures that would be taken by Kaji School as soon as the news of a new necromancer spread and reached them, he knew exactly where to go and who to ask for help. He knew Kaji School would want revenge, to show the world that they weren't afraid of anything and that even dark chi couldn't stop them.

He walked down the narrow corridor, the dark wood walls housing the soft noise of his breathing in contrast to the clatter of his boots. He scrubbed at his robe, darkened ashes with a burning smell floating through the air.

He was a humble man, fond only of the pleasure of an occasional cigar. He lived in a comfortable house near the edge of the city. As soon as he entered his room, he took a deep breath, the trail of ashes that had stuck to the stubble inside his nostrils being thrown out. A gray cloud still rose in front of him, but he quickly demystified it with a vertical hand cut. Seen from the outside, it would look like he'd just sliced the smoke ball. Only those who had already reached at least Level Three would have seen two of his fingers infused with chi, diluting the black charge in each particle, even the ones only slightly bigger than one centimeter. After all, maneuvering chi was not an easy task for those who were not ready or careful.

I'll have to be careful with the girl. She still doesn't know how to control chi and can be subdued by her inner demons, the man thought as he entered a vault in the right-hand corner of his tiny room.

It had been a while since his hands were lost among that collection of worldly objects and relics from another era; chi-imbued knives, scrolls containing demonic beasts’ invocations, and even a blue pearl—the core of one of them. After all, deep down, the man had a tender appreciation for artifacts capable of changing the course of a battle.

He picked up a silver ring with little black spots around the outside of the band and a purple diamond on top. He blew until he could see his face reflected in the surface. The purple spot glowed in his hand and he caressed it like an old friend.

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"It's good to see you. We'll walk together once again, if you wish," he said, his voice echoing throughout his little room.

He lay down on the double bed, the red satin sheets and the hard bedspread molding to his body. Beams of light streamed in through the red-and-yellow tapestry that covered the triangular window in the right corner. The water from the creek continued to fall.

Once he placed the little silver ring on his ring finger, sweeping energy flooded his body. He gargled and traces of saliva dripped down his thick lips. Within, a light purple, almost violet, tornado blew the dusty corners of his body. Due to not using much of his chi for years, some of the most isolated corners had gained a certain kind of mold, a green goo that hindered the perfect circulation of chi across all the meridians. Even the energies could rot like the human body. Without extensive care of them, the natural balance of the body, his Yin-Yang, would lose its ideal essence.

It was for the same reason that the members of a school were obliged to meditate and train daily. The lack of use and training had rusted the man, his gears now slowly moving.

A few minutes passed before the ring's brightness faded. The man's eyes, small and sharp, conveyed a peaceful sensation. The power to which he now had access at a snap of his fingers competed with some of the greatest fighters on the continent.

Ex-friends and enemies, he knew everyone would try to stop him. And yet, he was convinced it was the best solution. Promises had been made and only blood could break them. It was how pacts in the kingdom of Luau worked—by giving one his blood, the other would have to carry out the mission until he could no longer walk on Earth or his soul would burn forever, unable to reincarnate. Not even the kindness he had in life would save him. If he died without achieving success, he would be reincarnated as a lowlife, someone who could never reach high heights no matter how hard he tried.

His body levitated, lifting him up, his shoes hovering over the ground. His shadow was chopped off by the threads of light that shone against him. He stretched out and a burst of energy jolted the lamp above him.

"Easy, old friend," the man said, looking at the ring. "I'm not used to taming such power. A bit will do for now," he said, oblivious to the dangers that were already drawing closer.

Fear had accelerated Kaji’s soldiers’ plan. After all, there was nothing like the possibility of downfall to cause even the most feared leaders or even peasants to shiver. Black Chi was forbidden. Raising the dead was desecrating the laws of nature and the user should be punished with death. It had always been that way and it always would be while the heavens watched.

Opposite forces watched the house; isolated, hidden, by a curtain of dense trees. They had followed the smell of death, the mana clinging to the trunks and plants, trying to survive without a host on which to feed. The man knew the traces he had left behind; the dead, gray leaves crumbling to dust, the green of the trees losing their color, the smell of petrol driving the animals away. It was a map for the most curious and daring, and his house was the treasure. Until the boy learned to control and disguise the mana's absorption, they would likely leave a trail behind; dozens of crumbs that would lead cultivators from the other four schools to them.

The man headed for the kitchen. The door was half-open. A cloud of smoke flew over the place, slowly going out of the window on the opposite side. The windows were fogged up and the white of the walls had lost their color, already stained with black and brown in the corners and where the roof of the same color began. He had their lunch cooking on the stove: the head of a boar that he had beheaded in the forest.

The shadows were closing in.