The night was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning wood. Ling Feng crouched in the hidden passage, his heart pounding like a war drum. Through a crack in the wall, he watched his father, Ling Zhan, wield the Frostmoon Blade with desperate ferocity. The blade gleamed like a shard of moonlight, cutting through the darkness as it clashed against the Black Eagle assassins’ weapons. But even his father’s legendary skill was no match for the sheer number of enemies. With a final roar, Ling Zhan took down three assassins before a blade pierced his chest. He fell to his knees, his eyes locking with Ling Feng’s through the crack. “Live… avenge us…” he gasped before collapsing.

Ling Feng’s mother shoved him deeper into the passage, her hands trembling. “Go, Feng! Don’t look back!” Her voice was cut short as a sword slashed through her back. Ling Feng bit down on his lip to stifle a scream, tears streaming down his face. He clutched the Frostmoon Blade, its cold hilt pressing into his palm like a reminder of his duty. He crawled through the narrow passage, the sounds of his family’s killers echoing behind him.

When he emerged into the forest, the moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the trees. Ling Feng ran until his legs gave out, collapsing beside a stream. He stared at his reflection in the water—his face pale, his eyes hollow. “I will make them pay,” he whispered, his voice trembling with rage and grief. “I swear it.”

Days turned into weeks as Ling Feng wandered, surviving on wild berries and stolen scraps. One evening, he stumbled upon an old man fishing by a river. The man’s eyes, sharp and knowing, fell on the Frostmoon Blade. “That blade… it’s not meant for revenge,” the old man said, his voice calm but firm.

Ling Feng frowned. “What do you know about it?”

The old man smiled faintly. “I know that a blade like that carries a soul. It’s not a tool for killing—it’s a weapon for protecting. If you let hatred guide you, you’ll never unlock its true power.”

Ling Feng clenched his fists. “I don’t care about its power. I just want justice.”

The old man sighed. “Justice and revenge are not the same, young one. But if you’re willing to learn, I can teach you how to wield that blade properly.”

Ling Feng hesitated, then nodded. “Teach me.”