Bi-Han’s breath misted in the icy air, each exhale dissipating into the cold like a whispered omen. He stood alone at the edge of a frozen ravine, staring out over the landscape with an unshakable stillness that matched the frozen world around him. There was no warmth here—no sunlight to crack the sky, no mercy in the wind that howled through the jagged cliffs. Just cold. Endless, numbing cold.

He liked it that way.

Bi-Han’s grip tightened around the hilts of his twin cryo-katanas. His gaze was sharp beneath the mask, black eyes narrowing as the distant echoes of battle reached him. The Lin Kuei clan had been sent to purge this rebellion, to show their dominance, to crush any thought of defiance. And yet, as his clan fought and bled below him, Bi-Han found himself detached from it all.

The cries of pain, the clash of blades—they meant nothing to him. It was all just noise. Weakness.

They are distractions, he thought coldly, watching as one of his men fell to the ground, a spear jutting from his chest. They cling to petty allegiances, to false hope.

Hope. That word twisted like a shard of ice in his mind. Bi-Han had learned long ago that hope was nothing but a crutch for the weak. It was a fragile thing that crumbled under the weight of reality, much like the bones of his enemies beneath his feet. Only power was real—power, and the will to wield it without hesitation. He would seize that power, and no one, not even the Lin Kuei, would stand in his way.

They had already betrayed him once. Turned him into nothing more than a tool, a weapon for others to wield. The thought of being shackled to their whims any longer was unbearable. But he would endure. He had to. Not much longer now.

His thoughts flickered to his brother, Kuai Liang. Soft-hearted. Naïve. The boy lacked the spine to do what was necessary, to make the hard choices. And Bi-Han knew where that path led—to ruin. His brother didn’t understand.