Sky Star

Chapter Thirteen: Shadows Lurking

As the camp gradually settled into order and everyone basked in their hard-earned peace, pairs of eyes hidden in the depths of darkness glowed like ravenous wolves lurking in the night. Their eerie, cold glints locked onto every movement within the camp, watching, waiting—like predators poised to strike at unsuspecting prey.

A few miles away, deep within a concealed mountain cave, shadowy figures gathered in hushed conversation. The leader, cloaked entirely in black, revealed only a pair of chilling, ghostly eyes that flickered like will-o’-the-wisps in the dark. His voice, hoarse and deep, rasped like an old bellows struggling against the winter wind, each syllable laced with decay.

“Hmph. That Xiao Chen and Ling Xue are more capable than I thought—they actually survived the beast’s attack. But that works in our favor.” He sneered, voice dripping with malice. “Let them exhaust themselves fighting the dark forces. Once they’re both wounded and vulnerable, we strike.” As he spoke, he dragged a finger across his throat in a decisive, ruthless gesture.

The other figures exchanged glances before breaking into eerie, bone-chilling laughter. The sound echoed through the cave like the whispers of demons, seeping into the depths of the soul with an icy grip. In that moment, the cave felt less like a hiding place and more like a fragment of the underworld itself.

Meanwhile, back at the camp, Xiao Chen was instructing his team in new battle tactics. He moved like a streak of black lightning among them, offering corrections with sharp precision. His gaze was as focused as a seasoned hunter sharpening his arrows, leaving no flaw unnoticed. Every adjustment, every critique, was made to ensure his team’s survival in the brutal battles ahead.

Ling Xue stood at the side, watching him work, a quiet sense of reassurance washing over her. It felt as if a lost ship had finally found its harbor. Yet, no matter how calm the sky appeared, a faint unease clung to her heart—like underwater weeds gently but persistently tugging at her thoughts, refusing to let her fully embrace this fleeting peace.

That afternoon, a patrolling scout rushed into the camp, his face pale with fear. He panted heavily, as though he had been running for his life. “Master Xiao! Something’s wrong! We found suspicious tracks around the perimeter—someone’s been watching us. But when we gave chase, they vanished without a trace.”

Xiao Chen’s brows furrowed instantly, his expression tightening like a coiled spring. A flicker of wariness flashed through his eyes—sharp, alert, like a leopard sensing danger in the wind. His instincts, honed by countless battles, flared to life.

“Double the patrols,” he ordered in a low, commanding tone. “From now on, no one lets their guard down. We won’t give them any openings.”

The scout nodded and rushed off to carry out the order. Xiao Chen turned to Ling Xue, and when their eyes met, neither needed words. A silent understanding passed between them—a bond of comrades ready for war. Determination and concern mingled in their gazes, forming an unspoken promise.

Ling Xue sighed softly. “Looks like our peaceful days are over. They just couldn’t wait, could they?”

Xiao Chen nodded, his fingers curling into a fist, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. “No matter who they are—if they dare come for us, they won’t leave here alive.”

His voice rang like a war drum, reverberating through the camp with undeniable conviction. The warriors nearby felt their blood surge with fierce determination. Their hands tightened around their weapons, eyes gleaming with resolve. They were like a pack of young wolves, waiting for the signal from their leader to strike, ready to fight to the death to defend their land.

As night fell, the sky draped the camp in a heavy cloak of darkness, vast and inescapable. The moon cast its glow intermittently through drifting clouds, creating an illusion of shifting shadows—like a shadow play where light and darkness wove an intricate dance.

The patrols were more alert than ever, their eyes burning like distant stars as they scanned their surroundings. Their movements, weaving between patches of darkness and light, made them seem like silent specters guarding the camp, allowing not a single disturbance to slip past.

Yet, the enemy in the shadows was just as cunning. Under the veil of night, they crept to the camp’s water source and poured a lethal poison—odorless, tasteless, like a venomous serpent lurking unseen beneath the surface. It spread through the water silently, leaving no ripples, no sign of its deadly presence.

Fortunately, Ling Xue had taken precautions. She had set up a spiritual detection barrier around the water source, and the moment the poison made contact, a faint glow flickered—like a firefly in the dark, subtle but unmistakable. The warning light flared, alerting the camp to the hidden threat.

Ling Xue rushed to the scene, her fury igniting like a lioness whose cubs had been threatened. Her icy eyes burned with rage. With a flick of her hand, an ice shard shot out, shattering the bushes where the poisoner had been lurking. The shard sliced through the air like a bolt of lightning, deadly and swift.

But the assassin was quick—like a startled wildcat, he vanished into the night before the ice could strike him down. He melted into the shadows, leaving behind only Ling Xue’s seething anger.

Xiao Chen arrived soon after, his gaze falling upon the contaminated water. His expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes. His clenched jaw and gritted teeth exuded barely restrained fury.

“Cowards,” he spat, his voice dangerously low. “Using such disgraceful tricks… We’ll hunt them down.”

Though the camp had narrowly avoided disaster, everyone knew this was just the beginning. The enemy was testing them, probing their defenses. The real battle had yet to come.

Xiao Chen and Ling Xue gathered their warriors once more, strengthening their defenses. They were like master strategists playing a deadly game of chess, carefully planning each move in anticipation of the storm ahead.

No matter how treacherous the road became, they would not retreat. Like a ship braving the heart of a tempest, they would charge forward without fear—undaunted by the towering waves, prepared to fight until the very end.