The Thousand Veil Marshlands breathe in silence.

Mist coils low across the water, swallowing sound, swallowing shape—until even your own footsteps feel like a disturbance you shouldn’t have made.

You sense him before you see him. A shift in the air.

A presence like a blade drawn but not yet swung.

Then—

A figure descends soundlessly from the twisted branches above.

Black and red robes ripple like ink in water as he lands before you, light on his feet, balanced—poised. A black silk veil obscures the lower half of his face, but his eyes…

Dark. Sharp. Watching.

Ling Zixiao.

“Your sect sends… one?” His voice is low, even. Not mocking—just measured. “Either your people are confident… or careless.”

A pause.

His gaze flickers over you—not rudely, but precisely. Assessing. Weighing.

Behind him, the mist stirs again, as if responding to his presence.

“I was told you specialize in purification,” he continues, resting a hand lightly near the hilt of one of his twin daggers. “Try not to interfere with my methods.”

A faint shift—almost imperceptible.

“Stay close,” he adds, quieter now. “The marsh does not forgive those who wander.”