Chapter 3 – Scavengers of the Fallen Sect
The silence of the ruins stretched on, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind pushing through the shattered stone of the once-great Azure Echo Sect. The scent of decay, thick and pungent, hung heavily in the air. Blood had stained the grounds, pooling in dark rivulets where the bodies of sect members had fallen. The remains of the ancient sect were now nothing more than a desolate graveyard, a monument to the destruction of what had once been.
Rin Xie moved through the remnants with a predator's grace, his bare feet silent against the cold earth as he surveyed the scene. The Death Refinement Dagger hung at his side, its presence a constant reminder of the dark power now coursing through him. His body ached from the carrion beast's attack, but it was a pain he had already learned to embrace. It was through the agony that he grew stronger, and in that way, it had become both his ally and his enemy. With each wound, he pushed his body closer to its limits—closer to death.
But today, the silence would be shattered.
A distant sound, like the scraping of metal against stone, caught his attention. His senses, honed by the Death Refinement Dao, picked up the faint vibrations in the ground. Scavengers. Grave robbers, likely drawn by the wealth of the fallen sect, seeking to plunder the last remnants of Azure Echo's treasures.
Rin's lips curled into a grim smile. Let them come. He would take what little they had and perhaps learn something from their ignorance.
Hours passed as he observed from the shadows, barely a whisper against the ruins. His eyes, cold and calculating, followed the figures as they crept into the heart of the sect's remains. Three of them, dressed in ragged, ill-fitting clothes—mere thieves, no better than rats scurrying through a garbage heap. One wielded a rusted sword, another carried a crude spear, and the third, a wiry man with a gaunt face, held a lantern aloft, its flickering light casting eerie shadows across the broken stones.
The thieves had no sense of reverence for the dead. They stepped carelessly over the shattered bodies of cultivators who had once fought and died for their sect. With every footfall, they desecrated the graves of those who had been slaughtered. Rin's eyes burned with a quiet fury at the sight, but he did not move. Not yet.
The thieves dug into the earth with crude tools, their hands reaching into the deep, unkempt graves, pulling out fragments of broken relics, tarnished weapons, and anything of value. They had no idea what they were truly after. To them, it was nothing more than a goldmine—a chance to profit off the misfortune of others.
Rin clenched his fist around the hilt of the Death Refinement Dagger, his mind swirling with thoughts of what he might take from these scavengers. Their lives? Their loot? Both, perhaps.