Chu Yang rubbed his sore, tired eyes. The blue glow of the computer screen was particularly harsh in the dimly lit office. *23:47*—the numbers in the bottom right corner reminded him that he had once again worked late into the night.
"Chu Yang, remember to send me that API documentation before work tomorrow," said Project Manager Li Feng, patting him on the shoulder as he left. There was no room for negotiation in his tone.
"Got it, Manager Li." Chu Yang forced a smile, but as soon as the elevator doors closed, his expression collapsed. He sighed deeply, saved his code, shut down the computer, and grabbed his already-packed backpack.
The early autumn night breeze carried a biting chill. Chu Yang hunched his shoulders and zipped his jacket all the way up. The walk from the office to his rented apartment took about twenty minutes—a route he had taken for two years, so familiar he could navigate it blindfolded.
As he turned at the third intersection, Chu Yang suddenly froze. A strange scent lingered in the air, like rust mixed with some kind of spice, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"Who's there?" he instinctively called into the darkness of the alley.
No answer came, but the smell grew stronger. Chu Yang frowned. Reason told him to leave immediately, but an inexplicable impulse urged him to take a step forward.
Just then, a black shadow plummeted from above and crashed onto the ground less than five meters away. Chu Yang stumbled back in shock, barely stifling a scream.
It was an old man, dressed in an odd gray robe, his chest soaked in a dark stain that shimmered eerily under the moonlight. Chu Yang immediately realized—it was blood. A lot of blood.
"Young man... come here..." The old man lifted his head, revealing a wrinkled yet unnaturally flushed face. His eyes glowed faintly with a golden light in the darkness.
Chu Yang stood rooted to the spot, his legs leaden. The scene was too surreal—was he hallucinating from overwork?
"No time... take this..." The old man struggled to pull out an ancient-looking jade slip from his robes, covered in intricate carvings Chu Yang had never seen before. "The Taixu... legacy... must not be lost..."
A blinding red light suddenly streaked down from the sky. Chu Yang instinctively raised his arm to shield his eyes. Through his fingers, he saw a figure cloaked in black robes hovering midair, gripping a longsword wreathed in crimson flames.
"Old fool, I've finally found you!" The black-robed man's voice was hoarse and grating, like metal scraping against metal. "Hand over the Taixu Art!"
The old man suddenly lunged, seizing Chu Yang's wrist with shocking strength. Chu Yang couldn't break free, panic surging through him.
"Remember... Qi flows through the Ren and Du meridians... the spirit guards the Zifu..." The old man spoke urgently as he forced the jade slip into Chu Yang's hand. The moment it touched his skin, a jolt like electricity shot through his entire body.
The black-robed man roared and swung his flaming sword downward. The old man shoved Chu Yang away and threw himself toward the deadly light.
"Run!" the old man shouted at the last moment, his golden eyes filled with emotions Chu Yang couldn't comprehend.
A deafening explosion erupted, and a blast of heat sent Chu Yang flying. His back slammed against a wall, and darkness swallowed his vision. The last thing he felt was the strange warmth radiating from the jade slip in his hand, and the old man's voice echoing in his ears:
"Your path of cultivation... begins now..."