The air shifted unnaturally.
Rain that had once pelted the ancient forest now curved, twisting around an unnatural stillness seated beneath a blackened tree. The boy sat motionless, soaked from head to toe, his gaze unfocused, expression blank.
He neither blinked nor flinched.
No breathing could be seen, and yet… he remained alive.
Three robed figures descended from the clouds, spiritual swords hovering beneath their feet. Their robes bore the crimson-and-gold emblem of the Heaven's Pulse Sect, a mid-tier force tasked with watching over these outskirts.
Their leader, Elder Vensar, narrowed his eyes.
> "This is the one the wandering cultivators spoke of. They said he appeared without aura, without spirit, and without past."
The junior at his side frowned.
> "He looks... empty. Should we try speaking?"
> "Caution first," Vensar replied. "If the reports are even half true, this is no ordinary boy."
He extended his hand and pressed his palm to the air, releasing a spirit-sensing ripple. The air should have returned echoes of soul force, internal qi, or life essence.
But the wave returned nothing.
No core.
No sea of consciousness.
No karmic thread.
Not even the faint residue of someone trying to hide their presence.
> "Impossible..." Vensar whispered. "Even corpses have lingering qi."
The younger disciple took a step forward.
> "He's just sitting there. Maybe he's injured or in shock—"
Before Vensar could stop him, the disciple activated a basic sword light technique, forming a protective shimmer around his body.
The moment the technique lit up—
The boy's eyes shifted.
No glow.
No killing intent.
Just a slow, mechanical motion, like a puppet testing its joints.
Then—
SSHHK—
The disciple's arm vanished from the shoulder down.
No pain registered at first.
Only when he looked at the void where his arm had been did he scream.
> "M-My arm! It's gone! What happened?!"
Vensar raised a talisman, his voice low and urgent.
> "You fool. Did you think something like him would follow the normal rules?"
The boy stood.
The rain around him halted, hovering mid-air like drops held in invisible glass.
He did not chant.
He did not gesture.
He simply stepped forward.
> "Draw back!" Vensar barked. "Now!"
But it was already too late for the second disciple. In a panic, he tried to summon a movement technique—and the rune collapsed mid-air.
Not shattered.
Folded.
Bent in on itself.
And then it turned black, burning out with a muffled crackle.
The disciple gasped—then dropped.
Dead.
No wound. No blood.
Just… gone.
Vensar's face paled.
He slapped down a defensive formation talisman. A dome of golden light encased him as he stood his ground.
The boy turned toward him slowly.
There was no hostility in his gaze.
No curiosity.
No emotion at all.
He approached the dome of spiritual light.
And walked through it.
No resistance. No explosion.
The formation didn't break.
It ceased to exist—like it was never there to begin with.
Vensar backed away in disbelief, clutching his blade.
> "What... are you?"
No answer.
The boy tilted his head slightly.
Then turned away.
And continued walking.
Vensar didn't follow.
Couldn't.
He knelt, trembling—not from fear, but from knowing something that should not be part of this world was walking freely through it.
---
[In a distant sect's hidden hall...]
A group of elders gathered in silence. Word had reached them through broken jade slips and collapsing spirit beacons.
> "The Heaven's Pulse patrol… wiped out?"
> "No survivors. No spiritual traces. Not even artifacts left behind."
> "What could do such a thing without a single fluctuation?"
An elder's voice cracked from the corner.
> "They say he doesn't speak.
Doesn't respond.
He doesn't release energy.
He doesn't draw power.
He doesn't follow any known Dao."
Another elder whispered:
> "Then who is he?"
Silence.
The first elder's eyes gleamed faintly with dread.
> "He has no name.
No origin.
Not even karma dares bind him.
But the mortals in the village where he first appeared… they've already begun calling him something."
> "What name?"
A single breath.
> "The Silent Ripper."