Jia Ruo and Neeko joined Rakan and Xayah's group.
After continuing west for three days, they reached the coast.
The unusual island from the rumors lay across the water.
By the shore stood a small dock, where three or four families of boatmen made their living ferrying people across the sea.
When they heard that Jia Ruo and the others had come to deal with the strange events on the island, a spark of life finally returned to the boatmen's weary, furrowed faces.
Although life as a ferryman was hard—not only did they have to brave the elements, but their earnings were meager.
At least the boatmen had been able to make ends meet.
But when strange changes began on the island across the water—the trees gradually withered and turned pale, and the earth lost its warmth—even ordinary people could sense the ominous presence.
So, half a month ago, all the ordinary islanders had moved away.
Apart from making a handsome profit during the islanders' evacuation, the boatmen had had no further business.
These people, whose families had made their living ferrying others across for generations, were truly at a loss.
"Brave warriors, that island really is a strange place. Everyone who lived there has run off."
An older-looking boatman took the pipe from his mouth and continued, "If you want to cross the sea, this old man can help you."
At last, there was a glimmer of hope for the future. He placed all his hopes in the four people before him.
Whether human or Vastaya, anyone who could drive away the ominous presence would be their benefactor.
"Uncle, sorry for the trouble."
Jia Ruo clasped his hands in greeting, and all four of them climbed aboard the old boatman's vessel.
Though the old boatman was a professional ferryman, at Jia Ruo and Rakan's request, he handed the oars over to them.
Jia Ruo and Rakan rowed the little boat at incredible speed.
The old boatman was astonished. These two young men were so strong! It seemed their story was true. Perhaps they really could put an end to the island's curse.
The journey should have taken two hours, but in less than one, they had landed at a small pier on the island.
"Brave warriors, this old man will wait here for you to return."
"Uncle, if we haven't come back by nightfall, go home without us."
Xayah gave her dark purple Feather Robe a shake and said this.
"Th-then I'll come back tomorrow and keep waiting."
The old boatman understood what Xayah meant. They might be delayed, they might run into danger, and they might... never come back.
Meanwhile, a middle-aged man carrying a Green Sword walked into the small dock they had left behind.
He smiled. "Boatman, I'd like to cross to the other side."
Jia Ruo and the others headed deeper into the island.
The farther they went, the more they felt the oppressive deathly stillness of the place.
"How sad."
Neeko stroked a large tree that had already lost all its leaves.
Everything around them looked just like the scene in her dream—the land had lost its color.
They quickened their pace.
In a gloomy, withered forest steeped in the aura of Shadow Magic, Jia Ruo, Neeko, Rakan, and Xayah spotted a building among the trees.
It looked like an ancient temple, now completely wrapped in withered vines. Dark red light seeped through the gaps.
A Ninja in a black bodysuit and hood, his face hidden behind a dark red mask, seemed to be patrolling as he approached their hiding place.
"Whoo!"
Rakan gave a soft whistle.
The Ninja warily looked over.
At the same time, a purple feather blade struck him in the chest.
Rakan immediately slid forward, caught the Ninja's corpse, and spun around with it by the hand, as if celebrating with a waltz of death.
Xayah, who had dealt the fatal blow, emerged slowly, while Jia Ruo and Neeko hurried over to Rakan—or, rather, to the corpse.
"His Shuoma hasn't dissipated yet," Neeko said. "I'll try to examine it."
If the Shuoma of the living was like an old softshell turtle lying in the mud, then the Shuoma of someone who had just died was like a school of fish scattering in panic.
Neeko would need to spend a great deal of time and effort to catch them.
But Xayah and Rakan were looking around. In the shadows of the withered forest, figures were gradually taking shape.
They wore the same outfits as the one who had just died.
Without a word, Xayah and Rakan charged forward in perfect sync.
Jia Ruo drew You Meng and stood guard beside Neeko.
Rakan took the lead, closing in on the Ninjas and nimbly kicking, hurling, or knocking them down.
Xayah, meanwhile, used her feather blades to take the Ninjas' lives with deadly precision.
Grand Entrance!
Rakan swept up the last five or six Ninjas, sending them all airborne.
With a wave of her hand, Xayah pierced them with an equal number of feather blades.
Glaive Rush!
The feather blades turned into streaks of purple light, wheeled back through the air, pierced the Ninjas once more, and returned to Xayah's hand.
As the bodies fell, Rakan landed with a flourish.
He placed his left hand over his chest, lifted the golden Feather Garment in his right, and bowed slightly.
Jia Ruo watched from nearby as if enjoying a dazzling performance.
Every movement flowed like water.
He marveled inwardly at the pair's combat skills.
Xayah rolled her eyes at Rakan, though a smile played at the corners of her mouth. Just what was it about this flamboyant man that had captivated her so completely? Xayah couldn't say.
More Ninjas closed in, but Xayah couldn't muster any enthusiasm for dealing with such cannon fodder. She might as well let Rakan handle them alone.
She chose to enter the gloomy building.
That eerie red light leaking from inside had to be hiding a secret.
Rakan stretched, as if the fight just now had been nothing more than a warm-up.
Then he twisted around and charged at the oncoming Ninjas.
Jia Ruo stayed beside Neeko, using You Meng to kill the Ninjas who attacked them.
He kept the Sword Saint's teachings in mind: No matter how sharp a sword is, it can never rival a tranquil heart.
To protect this land and Neeko at his side, Jia Ruo's strikes were crisp and decisive.
He had already begun to touch the path of Wuju.
By now, Neeko had also pieced together some fragmentary memories from the Ninja's gradually dissipating Shuoma.
From a young age, this Ninja had been deeply influenced by Ionia's hardliners.
The idea that Ionia's power should be turned entirely toward warfare had been branded into his heart.
As a boy, he had joined a sect called the Shadow Order of his own accord.
In the five or six years since, he had learned only the barest scraps of Shadow Magic.
Though he was somewhat disheartened, he wasn't ashamed of himself. Most of the disciples were just like him.
Geniuses were rare, after all.
The most favored disciple, who wielded a Sinister Scythe, could only be an idol he looked up to.
One day, the sect's leader, Master Zed, summoned a group of ordinary disciples.
He was among them.
Master Zed led them to this island.
Then Master Zed entered an ancient temple alone and ordered the others to keep watch around it.
He didn't know what Master Zed was doing inside, but a repressive red light gradually shone from the temple. The surrounding natural magic seemed to be drawn into it, then suppressed by some unknown force.
After that, the plants in the area began to wither, and all life started to fade.
But the fluctuations of Shadow energy began to grow more active.
He could feel it.
The Shadow energy within him, which hadn't grown in a long time, seemed to be getting stronger.
This had to be a gift from Master Zed to ordinary disciples like him!
Neeko pulled away from the Ninja's Shuoma and pointed at the temple as she told Jia Ruo, "They're from a sect called the Shadow Order. Their leader is Master Zed, and he's in there now."
"Rakan! Hurry inside and find Xayah! We've got things here—go!" Jia Ruo cried.
Before you continue