Chapter 20 – The White Wolf’s Shadow

The training grounds outside Tianjin were quiet, the night wind carrying faint embers of torches that lit the perimeter. Soldiers gathered in silence, whispers running through the crowd. They had heard rumors, but none dared speak too loudly.

In the center stood Kohaku, finally removing his helmet and mask. Gasps filled the air.

His gray hair gleamed faintly under the moonlight, his face scarred yet striking. Golden eyes—serpentine, unyielding—burned with the weight of battles untold. The soldiers felt an almost crushing aura, as if standing before something far greater than a man.

Meiyun stepped forward, sword in hand, her heart pounding. She couldn’t deny it—this was the face from her visions. The face of the White Wolf Spear Saint’s heir.

“So it’s true…” she whispered, tightening her grip. “You really… carry his shadow.”

Kohaku remained silent, only lifting a bamboo spear from the rack. He spun it once, steady, controlled, then planted his feet.

“Show me,” Meiyun demanded, her sword trembling slightly. “If you are the one… prove it.”

The clash began.

Steel rang against bamboo, sparks flying as their strikes echoed across the field. Meiyun’s sword was sharp, her footwork trained, but her heart was restless. Every time her blade met his spear, she saw not Kohaku, but the phantom of Bai Lang Qiangsheng—the legendary Spear Saint reborn.

Her concentration faltered. And in that moment, Kohaku slid forward like lightning. His bamboo spear twisted past her guard, the tip resting against her throat.

Gasps erupted around them. Meiyun fell to her knees, breathing heavily, sword slipping from her hand.

“…Why?” she choked. “Why can’t I reach you? Even now… my heart is clouded.”

Kohaku’s voice was low, speaking in fluent Chinese, his tone both firm and unwavering.

“In the darkest hour, remember this: Despair is only a story we allow to be written. We can tear it apart—because hope always has time to begin a new chapter.”

His words cut deeper than the strike. Meiyun stared at him, her breath unsteady, eyes wide with both awe and disbelief. For a heartbeat, it was as if the Spear Saint himself stood before her, reborn through Kohaku’s form.

Kohaku extended his hand. She hesitated, then took it, trembling.

“You still carry doubt,” he continued, pulling her back to her feet. “But doubt can be burned away—if you choose to fight, not for fear, but for what you wish to protect.”

They locked eyes. Meiyun’s heart pounded—not with fear this time, but with resolve.

She whispered under her breath, almost a vow only she could hear. “I will grow stronger. Strong enough to stand beside you.”

But Kohaku had already turned away. Without another word, he donned his armor once more, the mask sliding back over his face. His golden eyes vanished behind the red glow of the visor, the lone wolf hidden again.

That night, Meiyun’s conviction hardened. She would no longer run from fate.

Meanwhile, in the ruins of Beijing, far from the camp, a reconnaissance unit crept through the shattered skeleton of skyscrapers. Their voices were hushed, trembling.

And then they saw it.

Coiled beneath the rubble of a fallen tower, its scales as black as midnight and its breath shaking the earth—
the Black Dragon slept.

Its eyes flickered once, crimson like molten fire.

The scouts dared not linger. They fled into the night, carrying with them a message that would ignite fear across the Liberation Forces.