The night had deepened. The bamboo dwelling lay in utter stillness, disturbed only by the cold wind that slipped through the paper-latticed window at intervals. Pale moonlight filtered inside, casting the swaying shadows of bamboo stalks across the wooden floor like wandering spirits.
Akin tossed restlessly upon his bed.
The thin blanket had slid from his shoulder. His breathing was uneven, brows drawn tight as though battling something unseen. Sweat dampened his temples despite the chill of the midnight air.
The fingers that had once gripped a sword in a previous life now clutched the blanket unconsciously. His lips moved faintly, as if whispering someone's name.
"Don't…"
The word escaped like a fading breath.
Flashes of fire flickered across his consciousness. Screams tore through the darkness. His body jerked slightly, as though plunging into a bottomless abyss.
And then….!
The entire world was swallowed by a dream.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
The sound of blades cutting through air. The sickening rip of flesh. Countless cries blending into a chaos too overwhelming to comprehend.
Flames roared skyward.
The whole village had become a sea of fire, boiling with spiritual force, resentment, vengeance, and righteousness twisted together. A righteousness that might one day give birth to deeds too cruel to forgive.
Ancient wooden houses collapsed one after another. Charred pillars gave way with thunderous crashes. Tiled roofs shattered, sending clouds of ash billowing toward Akin, who stood frozen, unable to move before the devastation.
Children screamed. Women wailed. Men roared curses into the inferno.
All of it was drowned out by the relentless descent of the Jade Sword.
Then…!
The vision cut off.
As though that dimension had offered him its final image.
Suddenly, Akin found himself standing there, no longer in ancient robes, but in a crisp white shirt, brand-new jeans, and white sneakers utterly out of place in such an era.
He lifted both hands, staring at them in disbelief.
(So… I've returned to myself?)
He stood in the middle of the dirt road of a village reduced to cinders. Black ash drifted through the scorching air like snow fallen from a ruined heaven.
He coughed.
"Cough… cough! Why am I still here? What is this…?"
The heat felt real. The smoke burned his lungs. This was no ordinary dream. And somewhere within the lingering scent of ashes.. He could still hear the faint echo of a sword descending. As though fate had yet to finish its strike.
The stench of burning assaulted his nose.
It was not merely the smell of charred wood, but flesh… scorched fur… something that should never have been burned in a place so small.
The village stood abandoned, devoid of life. Yet the heat remained fresh, as though the calamity had ended only moments ago.
(Where is this…?)
He walked forward, covering his nose.
(It reeks… like burnt meat.)
The instant he took another step…. The world flipped.
The ashes vanished, replaced by a village in the midst of destruction. Flames towered above the rooftops as desert winds drove the fire into a furious storm.
Faded silk banners whipped violently in the air, torn and fraying. Upon one burning banner, the silver emblem of a fox curled in mid-flame.
At the entrance of the village stood an ancient wooden signboard. Deeply carved into thick pine were the Chinese characters: "Baihu Village – 白狐村."
The brushstrokes still retained the dignified elegance of the Tang Dynasty style. What had once been bold black ink was now cracked with age. The edges of the wood were scorched where the flames had licked them.
The desert wind howled. The sign creaked as it swayed, wood grinding against its post like a mournful cry.
And then….!
Crack!
The wood split.
The signboard fell, striking the still-scorching earth. Ash and dust burst upward in a choking cloud. The characters "白狐" shattered along the grain, as if the village's very name were being erased from the land itself.
A hidden settlement nestled at the foot of Jade Mountain, west of the Northern Yumen Gate (北玉门关 – Northern Yumen Gate).
A territory claimed under the protection of the Tang court, yet in truth, a shadowed domain.
A fragile boundary between humans and demons.
The Silk Road passed not far from here. Camel caravans once rested within its walls. Western merchants pitched their tents. Border soldiers stopped to refill their waterskins. White-haired Daoist priests erected ritual altars beneath the open sky. Mahayana monks once lit oil lamps beneath willow trees, chanting sutras into the desert wind.
Some said it was merely a trading outpost. Others whispered it was a demon's nest. And still others spoke in hushed tones...
"This is the borderland where humans and demons forged a pact."
A secret frontier city. A bridge between Tang territory and the demon realms of the desert sea.
(Is this the place…? Do I… remember it…?)
Something stirred violently within Akin's mind. Memories surged like reflections shattered by a stone thrown into still water, Rippling. Distorting. Returning.
And beneath the roar of flames and wind.. He felt it. Not as a stranger. But as someone who had once stood here before.
Fragments of a ritual flashed before his eyes.
A circular Daoist formation, engraved with talismans marking the eight directions.
Monks chanting into the desert wind…..
"Sabbe saṅkhārā aniccā." All conditioned things are impermanent.
(All conditioned things are impermanent.
All that is formed shall one day fade.
All that is born is destined to wither.
Palaces crumble into dust,
Oaths dissolve into wind,
Flames that devour the heavens
Will cool into silent ash.
Joy is fleeting.
Sorrow is fleeting.
Hatred, love, vengeance, righteousness….
All are but passing clouds across an endless sky.
What rises must fall.
What gathers must part.
What burns fiercely today
Will tomorrow be no more than smoke upon the air.
Thus speaks the law of impermanence…..
Not as a curse,
But as the quiet truth
Binding all realms of existence.)
Akin shook his head violently, struggling to gather his shattered consciousness. His gaze swept across the chaos around him.
The sun was sinking, spilling molten orange across the fading blue sky. Copper dusk bled into the crimson blaze of the inferno. Sparks scattered like falling stars cast down from the heavens.
Heat erupted in waves.
Timbers collapsed with thunderous crashes, sounding like the shrieks of a demon lord. Black smoke billowed upward like the tears of a dragon with no home left to return to. Blood pooled upon the earth, reflecting the dying sunlight like offerings in a sacrificial rite.
The pact had been broken. Every living being fled.
Humans in human form. Fox spirits in demonic guise. Children. Women. The elderly.
Some tried to uphold their vows. Some tried to shield their families. Some merely wished to survive another turn in the endless cycle of birth and death.
But the voice of judgment carried by the Jade Sword… Cold. Absolute. Like the law of Heaven itself.
"In the name of the Path of Demon-Slaying. In the name of restoring the balance of Yin and Yang. In the name of the Dharma that dispels ignorance."
Ling Shan's chant burst into Akin's mind without restraint. He heard it clearly. As though the words were leaving his own lips.
Akin's eyes flew open in horror. The voice did not feel distant. It resonated within his chest … vibrated along his spine….echoed through his very bones.
The chanting thundered above the sea of flames.
"By Heaven's mandate and ordained fate… In the name of the Path of Demon-Slaying! In the name of restoring the balance of Yin and Yang! In the name of the Dharma that dispels ignorance!"
That voice was no longer merely human.
The Eight-Directional Formation burst open.
Golden talismans rose into the air, Daoist sigils blazing like coiling golden dragons. At the heart of the formation, a sacred Dharma seal rotated slowly, like the turning of a celestial wheel.
"Heaven and Earth without limit.. Let the cosmos lend its law!.... With the Three Pure Ones above… Let all paths return to their origin! Form is emptiness, Emptiness is form!"