Blood and Autumn Winds

The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. A lone figure in a black cloak strode down the dirt path, his steps soundless despite the weight of the sword strapped to his back. He paused at the crest of a hill, looking down at the city of Suzhou below—a city that once belonged to his family, now ruled by those who had stolen everything from him.

Lin Xian had returned.

Ten years had passed since the massacre of the Lin family. He was only eight when the killers came—shadowy figures in the night, blades flashing like silver lightning. The screams of his parents, the crackling of flames as their estate burned, and the chilling laughter of the man who orchestrated it all... these memories had never left him.

The world believed the Lin family had been wiped out completely. But Lin Xian had survived, saved by an old swordsman known only as "Mister Yun" a wandering master with no sect or allegiance. Under Yun's ruthless tutelage, Lin Xian had spent a decade mastering the ways of the sword, refining his body into a weapon honed for one purpose—revenge.

Now, the time had come.

As he entered the city, his sharp eyes scanned the streets. Suzhou had changed. New banners hung above the tea houses, bearing the sigil of the Bai Clan—one of the powerful families that had conspired against his own. Their men patrolled the streets, arrogant and unchallenged.

Lin Xian's hand itched to draw his sword, but he knew patience was key. Revenge was not a single stroke of the blade—it was a game of strategy, a slow and deliberate dismantling of his enemies. He needed information.

He made his way to the Drunken Immortal Pavilion, a famous gathering place for warriors and wanderers alike. The air inside was thick with the scent of wine and roasted duck, the murmur of conversation filling the space. He took a seat in a dimly lit corner, observing.

At a nearby table, a group of swordsmen laughed boisterously, boasting about their recent exploits. One of them, a man with a scar running down his cheek, slammed his cup down.

"Did you hear? The Bai Clan is hosting a grand banquet tomorrow night. They say Master Bai is celebrating something big."

Lin Xian's eyes narrowed. Bai Tiancheng, the head of the Bai Clan—the man whose blade had cut down his father.

A banquet... an opportunity.

A smirk played at Lin Xian's lips as he took a slow sip of his tea.

The hunt had begun.