The streets of Windmoon City pulsed with life—but underneath the chatter of merchants and the rhythm of trade, there was tension in the air. Something unseen loomed over the city like a shadow, and Alice could feel it in every wary glance, every murmured conversation.
Dressed in her black cloak and mask, Alice slipped through the city unnoticed. Her steps silent, her eyes sharp.
She began where all rumors bloomed fastest: the taverns.
The Silver Fang Inn was crowded with mercenaries and low-ranked cultivators. The scent of wine and smoke mixed in the air. She chose a corner seat, ordering nothing, listening instead.
> "...another caravan ambushed last night." "South road again?" "They're getting bolder. Heard someone saw their leader using fire arts." "Fire arts? That's rare… especially for bandits."
Alice narrowed her eyes beneath the mask. Fire arts? That could be a clue. But she needed more.
She waited till dusk before heading to the Slum District—a neglected corner of Windmoon where the poor and desperate gathered. These places were gold mines for information, if one knew how to listen.
She found a child pickpocket shadowing her.
Instead of confronting him, she let the boy lift a single coin pouch she'd prepared. The child darted into a back alley.
Alice followed quietly.
When the boy turned and saw her, he froze in panic.
> "Please—please don't kill me!" he cried. "I didn't know you were a cultivator!"
Alice knelt and spoke calmly.
> "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want answers."
He blinked, confused. "What… kind of answers?"
She slipped another pouch into his hand. "Tell me about the ones attacking the caravans."
The boy hesitated, then glanced around before whispering, "They hide near the Moonshade Ravine, about half a day from here. There's a cave system. Locals say it's haunted, so no one goes there."
"Anything else?"
He nodded quickly. "There's a woman with red hair leading them. She's strong. Real strong. I saw her burn a tree in a single move."
Alice stood, cloak swaying.
> "Fire arts... this is no ordinary group."
Before leaving, she dropped a small healing pill into the boy's palm. His eyes widened, speechless.
Night fell over Windmoon.
Alice returned briefly to her rented room at a small inn. She lit a single candle, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her storage ring flashed, and she retrieved a map of the region, marking the Moonshade Ravine with a dot.
> "If I strike tonight, I'll have the element of surprise."
She changed into combat gear—black robes designed for movement, reinforced at vital points. Her sword was strapped to her back, but hidden in her sleeve was a small dagger—black, sleek, and sharp, forged from obsidian steel. Her fire and darkness elements pulsed faintly beneath her skin, ready to be unleashed.
Before stepping out, she fastened her black mask—this one marked only with a crimson flame etched over the right eye.
No name. No symbol.
Just death in the night.
She disappeared into the darkness, her heart steady.
The Moonshade Ravine awaited—and with it, the first real challenge of her path as a Foundation Establishment cultivator.