“The deadliest enemies are not those who shout…
They are those who leave no words behind.”
– Saying of the Poison Tribe
Rain fell throughout the night.
By morning…
The Black Marsh was covered in mist.
Every tree stood like a silent guardian.
Every ripple in the water concealed a secret.
…
The scouts returned before sunrise.
This time…
They were not alone.
Between them walked a man.
His hands were bound behind his back.
His eyes were covered with black cloth.
His clothes were unlike anything the villagers had seen.
The fabric was sturdy.
His boots were made for long journeys.
His hands carried the rough calluses of a seasoned warrior.
Not a merchant.
Not a traveler.
A professional.
…
The entire village gathered.
Children whispered among themselves.
“Who is he?”
“Where did he come from?”
“Is he from another tribe?”
Grandmother Wu stepped forward.
She removed the cloth covering his eyes.
The man slowly blinked.
His face remained calm.
Almost…
Too calm.
…
“Who are you?” she asked.
Silence.
“What kingdom sent you?”
Silence.
“What do you seek in the Black Marsh?”
Still…
Silence.
His expression never changed.
As though he had already accepted whatever fate awaited him.
…
One elder slammed his fist onto the table.
“Speak!”
The man smiled.
It was a small smile.
Cold.
Without fear.
Without hatred.
Without regret.
Zhao Long watched quietly.
Something felt wrong.
This man wasn’t acting like a prisoner.
He was acting like someone waiting.
…
Grandmother Wu noticed it as well.
She knelt before him.
“You are not afraid of death.”
For the first time…
The prisoner spoke.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“I have already completed my mission.”
The room fell silent.
“What mission?”
He gave no answer.
Instead…
He looked directly at Zhao Long.
Then…
He laughed.
A quiet laugh.
One that sent chills through everyone present.
…
Suddenly…
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
The hunters rushed forward.
Too late.
His body collapsed.
Grandmother Wu caught him before he struck the floor. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
His breathing had stopped.
She opened his mouth.
Hidden beneath one of his teeth…
Was a tiny capsule.
Poison.
He had chosen death over capture.
…
The elders searched his clothing.
No letters.
No maps.
No symbols revealing his allegiance.
Only one object remained.
A small bronze coin.
On one side…
A wolf.
On the other…
Three crossed swords.
None of the elders recognized it.
Grandmother Wu slowly closed her hand around the coin.
“This…”
“…is only the beginning.”
…
Outside…
The village carried on as though nothing had happened.
Children laughed.
Women gathered herbs.
Smoke drifted peacefully into the sky.
Yet beneath that peaceful morning…
Every elder knew the same truth.
Someone had found the Black Marsh.
And somewhere beyond the mountains…
Others were already coming.
Far away…
In a stone fortress beyond the marshlands…
A commander looked over a map spread across a wooden table.
A single mark had been placed upon it.
A black circle.
The Black Marsh.
He smiled.
“Prepare the companies.”
“This time…”
“We finish the job.”