The silence in the tunnel swallowed the arena roar. He could feel the eyes of Elder Kai, even from the shadows of the VIP box, burning into his back – a gaze devoid of its prior gentle warmth, now sharp with something akin to murderous intent. Bai An maintained his serene smile, the subtle tremor in his leg the only concession to the recent exertion and the simmering fury he had just unleashed. He navigated the winding corridors beneath the grandstands, the cheers and murmurs of the tournament fading into a distant hum. His goal was a secluded exit, away from the throngs of celebratory spectators. He knew the arena’s layout intimately, a childhood habit of exploring every forbidden nook. But as he turned into a narrow, stone-paved alley, shadowed by the towering outer wall of the stadium, the air suddenly grew heavy. Six figures stepped from the deeper gloom, cloaked in twilight-dyed wool. Each held a short, curved sabre leveled at chest height, their spacing disciplined and lethal. Killers sent on short notice, their unison pointing straight to Elder Kai. “Well, hello there,” Bai An said, his voice light, almost amused, though his hand instinctively went to the hilt of his heirloom blade. “Lost your way, gentlemen? The celebratory feasts are in the main plaza.” The lead hunter, broad across the chest beneath his hood, offered no reply. He merely raised a hand, and the others advanced, fanning out to block both ends of the alley. Polished iron caught the pale noon sun. Bai An kept his grin fixed, even as Xun Feng’s spirit flared inside the Shard. *“They mean to butcher you, boy! Strike first!”* Bai An drew his sword. The steel sang a low, resonant note. He knew he was outmatched in sheer numbers and experience. These weren't clumsy cousins. This was a true test. The nearest blade lunged forward. Bai An ducked aside, iron humming past his ear and clipping his topknot. He spun, his own sword a silver streak, deflecting a follow-up attack from another assailant. The clang of metal echoed sharply in the confined space. He moved with a frantic elegance, weaving through the attacks, his Phantom Step working overtime. He dodged, parried, and deflected, but he couldn’t counterattack effectively against six blades pressing in. A curving edge tore through his left sleeve, scoring flesh. His smile tightened into a grimace. He needed an opening, a moment to focus the Shard, but they gave him none. A kick slammed into his ribs, sending him stumbling back against the cold stone wall. The impact knocked the wind from him, a gasp escaping his lips. Two sabres chopped downward together. He parried the right, but the left cleaved into his collarbone. Hot blood flooded his tunic as he gasped, boots scraping the flagstones. *“Bai An!”* Xun Feng’s telepathic cry was sharp with alarm. Just as the tall swordsman raised his weapon to finish him, a clay vessel shattered between them. Acrid sulfur and green vapor detonated outward, scattering sparks across wool cloaks and driving the ambushers backward in choking fits. “Bai An!” A familiar voice, laced with fierce urgency, cut through the din. Lin Suyin vaulted into the alleyway, hem black with ash, a beaded satchel swinging from her wrist. She lobbed a second sphere that flashed white, scattering the remaining fighters into the smog. “Suyin?” Bai An pressed a hand against his bleeding collar, stunned. “No questions!” she shouted, snapping a silver dart into the mortar near the lead pursuer. The tip hissed, vomiting a narcotic fume that set the armed men reeling. “Excellent timing, as always, Suyin!” Bai An managed, forcing a grin despite the pain. The diversion was enough. He seized the opportunity, channeling energy into his blade. His sword pulsed with a faint, internal glow. Bai An lunged through the haze straight toward the squad leader. Instead of a killing strike, his edge sheared clean across the man’s lapel. Snatching mid-pivot, Bai An tore away a pinned metal token and shoved it into his palm. He pulled back, stumbling slightly, his arm now burning. “This way!” Suyin grabbed his uninjured arm, her strength surprising. She dragged him towards a hidden alcove she had evidently prepared, behind a loose grate, away from the main thoroughfare. The pursuers lunged forward, but Suyin jammed an iron latch shut and smeared quick-drying pitch along the seam. They found themselves in a cramped, dark service tunnel beneath the city, the sounds of pursuit muffled, then fading. Bai An slumped against the damp stone, gasping, his vision swimming. Suyin tore linen strips from her undershirt to pack his torn muscle. “Bone stopped the cut,” she said under her breath, hands taut. “After someone broke into my laboratory, I brewed escape mixtures. Who were they? Those weren’t Bai retainers.” Bai An, still panting, opened his palm. The insignia lay there, a small, silver emblem depicting a stylized lion standing proudly atop a towering, three-peaked mountain range, its mane flowing like clouds. It was cast from royal silver, cold and unmistakable. Xun Feng’s voice, usually a raging torrent, was now a low, chilling rasp in Bai An’s mind. *“That crest… The Azure Mountain Lion,”* Xun Feng whispered inside his skull, venom dripping from the thought. *“The Shadow Fangs. His Majesty’s sovereign guard. The Ashen Veil sits at the Emperor’s own hearth.”*

The Ashen Veil's Net