The soft glow of dawn shines behind the numerous mountains that cover the horizon, colouring the sky in shades of lilac. The light shines through one of the windows of the Pavilion of the Sun and into a room where a meeting is taking place. The clan leader is sitting at a table, accompanied by his marshal and his generals.

Yang Cheng, the leader, finishes drinking his tea and announces some almost mythical, or perhaps mythical, information. The feelings of most of the generals are as turbulent as the destruction left on the crops by an unexpected storm in the fall. A continuous murmur among the warriors is persistent, they shake their legs, fearful, not because they are in danger, or perhaps there really is danger, but the fear of the implacable fighters comes from useless fantasies. And still, surrounded by chaos, is Yang Lian, trying to concentrate, but the noises penetrate his mind like a sharp blade. The day has barely begun and his head hurts.

Yang Lian stands up, and only the marshal notices his silent footsteps, but the others present wouldn't realize if he was clumsy because nothing but the recent “supernatural” events can steal their attention. Yang Lian approaches the marshal, his master. He places his hand on the marshal's shoulder and shakes it gently. Without having to say a word, his master realizes that he wants to say that the excessively loud noises are almost driving him mad.

Yang Wen orders him to leave the meeting, preventing a general with sensitive hearing, who has never even been on a battlefield, despite the current occurrence of a war, from wasting his energies in a chaotic environment in which he has no use.

Yang Lian crosses to the window and sits on the roof made of sturdy dark wood. His long ebony-black hair is loose, and he removes the general's iron and leather purple-dyed mask on dragon form, revealing an unexpectedly handsome young face that rarely expresses any emotion, partially covered by a black eye patch.

The whispers of the autumn breeze carry scarlet leaves, which crumble in the air and sway the Yang Lian's purple-tinged hanfu. He sighs, his distant cold gaze watching them and, still with a headache, he jumps off the roof after putting his mask back on. 

Yang Lian enters a simple, organised office situated at the top of a tower. There is only a dark wooden desk surrounded by bookshelves and windows, where he sits only for a fleeting moment, because frantic knocks on the door shatter the soft silence of the room. The colonel persists with the desperate knocks until they open.

— Is there a problem? — inquires Yang Lian. He has a cold tone of voice that exudes hardness, like a blade of ice.

— Today, the gardener Yang Rong reported the murder of five majors, after finding their bodies sitting around a table in the garden of the house of his boss, Yang Guang, who was also one of the victims. The other majors were Yang Xian, Yang Hui, Yang Yong and Yang Fu. There was a lot of blood, but only a cut on the neck of each of them. The crime scene has been sealed off, would you like to visit it? Are you interested in the report?

— Hand the matter over to intelligence and, if they need my support, I'll do whatever it takes. Later, give me a report on the case.

— Roger that. Do you want to talk to the gardener? He's scared and saying odd things.

— Strange?

— He believes that the murderer is a spirit, because nobody saw him, not even the victims who remained in their places, without running away or screaming.

— How did he deduce that the victims remained in the same place? Or was it just a simple observation?

— One of the soldiers responsible for analysing the crime scene told the gardener that.

— In the report, also write down for me the gardener's entire situation.

— Understood.

Yang Lian says goodbye to the colonel with a gesture and closes the door. Throughout the day, focussed on the bizarrely extraordinary crime that happened the previous morning, army intelligence doesn't allow Yang Lian to work on anything else that is independent of them and contacts him numerous times.

Everyone's efforts co-operate to protect the Yang clan, and the passage of time is not an enemy. The delicate darkness of night wraps the sky in its arms, colouring it with nebulae and gorgeous constellations. The chance to rest is granted to the military officials working for his clan, and Yang Lian returns home.  

The icy breeze ruffles his hair as he approaches the balcony, where an exceptionally tall man, around two metres tall, with brown skin and a dominant presence, is leaning on a wooden column, arms crossed. His master, despite his imposing appearance, has his head down and his eyes heavy, almost asleep and oblivious to the chaotic state of his brown hair.

— Good evening, Lian — he raises his gentle gaze and opens the door for them both to enter.

— Hi, Master Wen.

— Do you know what they discussed at the meeting? — he says after closing the door.

— I think so, was it about the death of the five majors? 

— Yes.

— I see, I had a lot of work today because of this matter, intelligence was contacting me almost every minute.

— Have you managed to resolve anything?

— A little. We've reinforced the clan's security, and we're investigating the circumstances of the deaths.

— How many possible attacks did you prepare for?

— As many as I could think of.

— Good, and is the clan safe to try to lure out the murder? It's less labour-intensive than looking for a ghost.

— Ghost? 

— Not literally.

— Not yet, maybe next week.

— When you were in charge of security, did you realize that the deaths might be a distraction?

— Yes, the murder carried out a complex job competently enough to kill just a few military personnel and throw the whole clan into despair. This could be the harbinger of something bigger or a crime to cover up a worse one. 

— Exactly, I can always count on you, now just rest, you deserve it. Today, Yang Wu and Yang Zhong will be patrolling the borders, and I'll be backing them up.

— Thank you.

Yang Lian sits down somewhere on the floor that wasn't even built for this purpose, closes his eyes and lies still. He remains motionless, thinking about who knows what, perhaps he doesn't think about anything, or maybe he's already asleep.

Yang Wen looks at his disciple, smiles, and picks up one of his books from a nearby shelf to continue reading. He lies down on a table in the living room, also ignoring the purpose of its creation, and flicks through its pages.

The silence has a short domain, already being shattered by the loud and rude opening of the door.

— Hi, Dad. Hi, brother — says a little girl, pulling her into the house.

— Hi, a-Ji¹ — he closes him book and leaves the table.

— Are you going to protect me from Jiang Shi?² — approaches his father.

— Do you need protection? — says a confident little boy of a similar age, entering the house while the teenager accompanying them closes the door.

— It doesn't exist — Yang Lian replies quickly.

— People are saying that Jiang Shi invaded the clan and killed the majors. It's just that I don't want them to drain my ki³.

— Don't waste your time fearing legends, humans are worse.

— I DON'T WANT HUMANS DRAINING MY KI!

Yang Lian is startled by little Ji's reaction, but doesn't show it. The little girl opens her eyes wide, screams and runs straight to Yang Wen's lap, who hugs her.

— Don't worry, I'll protect you from Jiang Shi and the humans.

— All right, dad. Good night, I'm going to sleep.

— Good night, a-Ji.

— I'll protect you too, sister — says little boy Yang Feng, while their older brother, Yang Ming, takes them to their room.

— Your ability to deal with people is impressive — he sighs — I'm going to sleep too, it'll be nine o'clock soon.

Hours and hours go by as if they were worthless. Yang Lian lies in his bed, his eyes closed for hours, however he is still awake. There is no moonlight, only tiny stars are the hope that illuminates the night. Yang Lian gets up and walks around his room, lies down, gets up again, lies down, gets up, walks and walks and lies down. He closes his eyes, repeating in his mind that his master is competent enough not to need his help during his time of rest, and relaxes his tensed muscles, endeavouring to sleep and prevent tiredness from getting in the way of the next day's work. 

However, just one night awake isn't so bad. 

He gets out of bed, adjusts the brown details of his hanfu, puts on his brown boots and asks the intelligence division where the next murders might take place. Then he looks for a good view of the deduced victims.

Yang Lian stands on a roof made of dark wood, and the icy breeze gently sways the strands of his hair. Occasionally, the silence of the sleeping souls is interrupted by the singing of nocturnal birds, but he doesn't get distracted.

Hours of vigilance are spent and normality remains, the night is as still as a dead. His eyes are heavy, almost closed, and the remaining strength that still sustains his body gradually dissipates, however a surprise almost makes him jump.

Before his eyes, all his plans crumble as he recognizes the enemy. He hides, gasping for breath. Yang Lian knows he is alone, and any intervention would only result in his death, leaving him only to witness the murder of his companions because he is unable to fight the killer and there is no time to warn the army before the enemy flees due to the distance.

When he is sure that the murderer has gone, Yang Lian returns home. He opens and closes the door quietly, wanting to avoid waking his family, bends down to take off his boots, but falls, causing a sound that resonates in the wood. He tries to continue in an attempt to sneak into the marshal's room to warn him of what has happened, but realizes that he is not alone in the dense shadows that reside around him.

— Master Wen?

— Lian? Why are you coming home at this hour?

— I found out that “Jiang Shi” is the White Tiger⁴, but where were you? — he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door.

— We arrested him hours ago, and I left them to look after him. I didn't imagine he would escape this time.

— I realized there was smoke in the prison, it must have been him who set it alight again

— I made a terrible mistake, I forgot to check that the changes I'd ordered for the prison had been made. And how did you find out?

— I asked the intelligence division who was going to die and kept an eye on them, because I thought that “Jiang Shi” would be weaker than me. However, it didn't work out… at least I got to witness the murders.

— What did you see?

— I saw the White Tiger killing Yang Xue, Yang Lan and Yang Xing.

— Detail.

— Ah, there was nothing worth saying.

— Are you sure it was really him?

— Yes, how could I forget? His white hair and fighting style are unmistakable.

— I see — and start cracking — I figured you wouldn't easily forget the beating you took when you two fought — Yang Lian sighs.

— At least it wasn't a boring fight — his words only provoked more laughter from his master.

— Let's go to sleep, then we'll get on with our work.

-

Footnotes:

¹ Chinese affectionate diminutive.

² Chinese mythological being, according to legends, an undead.

³ Life energy according to Chinese beliefs.

⁴ The title given to my character refers to the Chinese legend of the four guardian animals of the cardinal points. It is also a symbol of strength and courage, and is traditionally carved on tombs to protect the dead from evil spirits.