The return of the Kirin Heir

Storms Beyond the Ridge

Night had fallen over Qing Village.

The stars glittered above the silent fields, but Jin Longwei remained wide awake, seated in lotus position at the edge of the eastern ridge. Below him, the world was calm—fires flickering in clay ovens, cattle sleeping in fenced pens, the air thick with the scent of rice and smoke.

But his senses extended beyond what normal eyes could see.

He felt it.

Something coming.

> Not a threat yet—but a stirring. A shadow reaching across the mountains, like fingers searching for something long lost.

A distant wind carried the scent of copper and ash. Unnatural.

Jin opened his eyes. The Kirin Flame pulsed faintly in his chest. He hadn’t told anyone—not Mei, not Elder Ren—that his awakening was not isolated.

> The moment he healed Ren Yi, the moment his qi surged again... someone, somewhere, had noticed.

And now, that someone was moving.

---

Miles away, across the vast mountains and dense forests, a horse galloped through the darkness. Atop it rode Xue Fan, a shadow messenger of the Crimson Hand Sect, one of the six lesser sects that had once hunted Jin Longwei like an animal.

In his hand, he held a crimson scroll sealed with black wax—the mark of Patriarch Yun Sheng, a man known for cruelty disguised as diplomacy.

The scroll read only a few words:

> “The Kirin Heir breathes. Send the Blood Envoy.”

Xue Fan spurred his horse harder, unaware of the eyes watching him from the cliff above.

There, standing silent in the dark, was a figure clad in white robes, his long hair tied in a simple warrior’s knot.

His name was Bai Shuye, former sword brother to Jin Longwei. Once, they had sworn blood oaths atop Mount Kunlun.

Now, separated by a decade of betrayal, Bai Shuye watched the world stir and whispered to himself:

> “So… you survived, Brother Longwei.”

---

Back in Qing Village, Jin was stirring too—but not from danger.

He had spent the evening writing talismans.

At a small wooden table inside his ruined hut, he dipped a brush into silver-infused ink and began tracing ancient sigils from memory—each one a protective glyph rooted in the divine language of the Four Celestial Scripts.

Mei watched from the corner, wide-eyed.

> “Will these protect us?”

“From minor things,” Jin said without looking up. “Spirits, small curses, restless dead. But not the ones coming for me.”

Mei blinked. “You really think people are coming?”

He nodded.

> “When a sleeping beast stirs, hunters awaken.”

She shivered. “Then… why stay? Why not leave?”

Jin paused, brush mid-stroke. “Because I fled once. It cost lives. This time, I stand.”

He looked at her.

> “But I won’t let the village be caught in it. You’ll learn. You’ll help me prepare.”

She straightened, jaw firming. “Yes, Master Jin.”

He returned to his writing. “Good. Begin by memorizing the mountain paths. If we need to evacuate, you’ll guide the children.”

She swallowed hard, then nodded.

---

The next morning, messengers arrived.

Not from the capital. Not from a sect.

But from Xuan City, a larger town nestled near the southern valley—where Jin Longwei’s family name was still whispered in both reverence and fear.

The man was tall, dressed in a forest-green robe, bearing the sigil of the Xuan City Trading Guild—a trillion-dollar merchant dynasty Jin once helped build from the shadows.

His name was Zhao Wen, and he had once called Jin his sworn brother.

Zhao dismounted, stunned by the sight before him.

Jin, healthy. Calm. Stronger than a decade ago.

> “By the heavens… it’s true. You’ve returned.”

Jin gave a small nod. “Why are you here?”

Zhao glanced around before whispering, “You triggered ancient accounts the moment your qi surged. The old systems woke. Your private vaults… your holdings… everything tied to your soul mark began reactivating.”

He looked Jin dead in the eye.

> “The world thinks you died. Now, they’ll come for you. And your fortune.”

Jin turned toward the village in the distance—quiet for now.

But not for long.

> “Then let them come,” he said. “Let them all come.”