The pale dawn spread over Lý Sơn's sea, silver waves whispering in countless tongues. Along the deserted shore, Quang Minh supported Bích Thủy step by step. The ocean wind blew cold, carrying the salt of the tide mixed with the iron scent of drying blood upon their robes.
Throughout the long night, Quang Minh had not closed his eyes. One sentence of Bích Thủy's echoed endlessly in his mind:
"The Long Tàng Secret Manual does not merely contain martial arts—it holds the dragon veins' map… my father died for it…"
Her eyes, filled with grief yet unbroken resolve, haunted him still. Each step he took, the burden upon his heart grew heavier.
As they returned to the mainland, they followed hidden trails along the cliffs, winding through silent groves. Bích Thủy leaned weakly upon his shoulder. At times her lips trembled as though she wished to speak, but she fell silent. Only the occasional birdcall and the rustle of leaves answered them.
When they reached the foot of Thạch Lâm Mountain, Bích Thủy whispered, her voice as thin as gossamer:
"Beyond this mountain… there is a small hermitage. Within lives the Venerable Pháp Tĩnh… once a sworn friend of my father. I believe… he can help us unlock the Long Tàng's secret."
Quang Minh nodded. Together they pressed on, their hearts each shrouded by a thousand unspoken questions.
The Night of the Hanging Moon
Moonlight rose, bright and cold as a drawn blade. Its silver glow poured over the mountain paths, illuminating every jagged rock. As they crept along a narrow ledge, a wave of killing intent swept over them like a sudden frost.
Bích Thủy halted, murmuring:
"Someone… is following."
Before she could say more, from behind the boulders came a voice, cold and mocking:
"Bích Hải Dragon Maiden, Phạm Quang Minh—hand over the Long Tàng Secret Manual. Otherwise, neither of you will live to see dawn."
Four black-clad figures stepped forth, their movements light as falling leaves. Moonlight glimmered along the steel in their hands. Each man bore a black dragon's head embroidered across his chest, jaws open to spit a crimson tongue of fire.
Quang Minh shouted:
"The Black-Clad Sect! You dogs cling more tenaciously than leeches!"
The leader strode forward, eyes sharp as knives:
"Hmph! Whoever possesses the manual is a traitor to the throne. Did you think keeping that woman at your side would protect you?"
With a flick of his hand, the assassins surged forward. Blades flashed like flowing water.
Quang Minh drew his sword, unleashing the Heavenly Cloud Sword Art. His Falling Snow Petals scattered into a thousand silvery sparks that slowed their charge. Beside him, Bích Thủy lifted her flute, sending out notes as cold and clear as winter rain.
But the Black-Clad Sect's martial skill was uncanny. They feigned to press Quang Minh, then split into two groups, circling around to strike Bích Thủy from either side.
"Bích Thủy—look out!" Quang Minh bellowed.
One assassin's blade swung down at her head. Quang Minh lunged in time, sword intercepting the strike. Metal clashed in a spray of sparks—but the second man's palm struck Quang Minh square in the chest.
He cried out as he was hurled backward, striking the cliff with bone-jarring force. Blood spattered across the rocks. Bích Thủy screamed, dashing to catch him, but the leader of the Black-Clad Sect was already upon her, his laugh cold as death:
"The Long Tàng Secret Manual—give it to me!"
His hand reached for the hidden bundle within Quang Minh's robe. With a desperate cry, Bích Thủy thrust her flute toward his throat.
The man twisted aside. His palm lashed out, striking Bích Thủy with crushing power. She was flung against the cliff wall. Blood blossomed across her turquoise gown.
Moon Over the Bloodstained Cliff
Quang Minh staggered upright, eyes burning red. His voice cracked:
"If you want the manual… step over my corpse first!"
The leader bared his teeth in a savage grin:
"Very well. I have long wished to test the Heavenly Cloud Sword."
His twin palms rose, churning with black energy that roared like a storm. The cliff itself trembled under his force.
Quang Minh shouted, sword slashing out in Heavenly Cloud Spinning Wave. A silver arc of power clashed with the black tide. The impact exploded in a deafening blast that shook the entire ledge.
Stone shattered. Dust billowed like a stormcloud. Quang Minh and the black-clad leader were hurled apart. The assassin stumbled back seven steps, blood leaking from his lips, eyes wide with disbelief.
Quang Minh dropped to his knees, still gripping his sword. Bích Thủy crawled to his side, her breath ragged:
"You… must not die… the Long Tàng… must be returned…"
The assassin wiped blood from his mouth, eyes glittering with hatred. His voice came like a curse:
"You were lucky tonight. But tomorrow night… at Broken Soul Cliff… you will not escape."
With a gesture, he and his men vanished into the darkness, silent as phantoms.
Bích Thủy leaned her head upon Quang Minh's shoulder. The night wind swept past, laden with the sea's salt and sorrow. She whispered, voice fading:
"Quang Minh… Broken Soul Cliff… my father once bade me to go there… Perhaps… all the answers… await us there…"
Above them, moonlight poured across the crags, silver bright against the blood pooling on the rocks. Far below, the Bích Hải waves roared on, as if summoning them toward a destiny no blade could defy…