Crazed Whisperer

Chapter 5: Under the Facade

Three years had passed since the war that tore the world apart—a war fought not only between nations but between entire species. It was a time when the veil that separated the supernatural from the mundane had ripped open, and the existence of creatures that had once only been whispered about was laid bare. Ghosts, spirits, and creatures of darkness, all once considered to be figments of human fear, were real—and they walked among them.

After the bloodshed ended, what remained was an uneasy peace, more of a fragile facade than an agreement. Humans, once convinced of their superiority, were now forced to live alongside those who had once lurked in their nightmares. The streets of Hangzhou, like the rest of the world, had changed—becoming a patchwork of the strange and the familiar. Ancient spirits disguised themselves to walk alongside students, creatures that fed off energy found employment in places where their hunger was easily satisfied, and even beings born from the darkness had carved out niches for themselves within this new society.

This was not to say that prejudice or violence had disappeared—far from it. Old wounds, suspicion, and fear still festered below the surface. The fact remained that it was humanity that had driven the creatures to fight. Corruption, greed, and a hunger for power had plagued those in authority, and many of the supernatural were simply tired of the abuse, the experiments, and the persecution. Now, everyone moved with caution, eyes always on the shadows, waiting for something—or someone—to break the fragile peace.

In the aftermath, the world had restructured itself. The center of control and power now lay with the Enshrouded Assembly, a governing body composed of representatives from every race—human and otherwise. They were tasked with maintaining the delicate balance between factions, ensuring that no one side gained too much power and that tensions did not boil over. For the most part, they succeeded, but it was always clear that the balance could tip at any moment.

Those with extraordinary abilities were collectively referred to as the Marked, a designation that encompassed both those born with gifts and those who had acquired them through less-than-natural means. The Marked held varying degrees of power, often linked to their lineage or the circumstances of their awakening. To hone their skills, they attended specialized institutions, the most prestigious of which was

Crimson Spire Academy—the only elite university that promised to make the Marked stronger, smarter, and more adept at protecting themselves and their families in this new world.

Of course, only the best of the best—or those with considerable influence—could attend Crimson Spire Academy, and Xuan Jing, being from the Xuan clan, fit both categories.

The five main clans of Hangzhou held the most power among the Marked, each with a long and storied history, filled with rivalries and alliances that shifted as easily as the wind. They were:

1. The Xuan Clan - Known for their strategic brilliance and stoic approach to everything. They wielded their influence like a blade, sharp and deliberate, and their abilities were said to be deeply tied to the shadows themselves.
 
2. The Bai Clan - Masters of elemental manipulation, particularly the control of ice and water. They were a proud family, their cold demeanor reflecting the power they wielded.

3. The Feng Clan - Possessing abilities tied to the wind and the air, they were often seen as the swiftest and most unpredictable of the clans. The Feng were known to be fiercely independent, their loyalties difficult to pin down.

4. The Lian Clan - Renowned for their abilities in illusion and spirit communication. They were mysterious, their powers often unsettling to those unfamiliar with them, as they had the ability to see and speak to the dead.

5. The Zhi Clan - A family with an affinity for nature, capable of manipulating plants and even bending the will of animals. They were the most openly hostile towards humans, and many saw them as sympathizers with the creatures that had fought against humanity during the war.

It was in this world of quiet hostility, fragile alliances, and hidden power that Xuan Jing moved, navigating the ever-changing landscape with an indifferent gaze. He was not interested in the politics of the Enshrouded Assembly, nor was he concerned with the rivalries between clans or the unrest brewing beneath the surface of society. To Xuan Jing, these were mere distractions—things that did not concern him, unless, of course, they somehow interfered with his life or piqued his curiosity.

The day after the body had appeared at the gates of his residence, Xuan Jing found himself back at Crimson Spire Academy, seated in the back of a lecture hall, his chin resting on his hand as he stared out the window. It was raining again, the sky a dull gray, the kind of weather that made the city feel even more oppressive. The lecture droned on, the professor’s voice a distant murmur that barely registered in his mind.

Most of his peers were scribbling notes, their attention focused on the lesson. Xuan Jing, on the other hand, was thinking about the man from the night before—about the strange, swirling pattern in his eyes, the way it seemed almost alive. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Wei Lin, but something about it had unsettled him, a nagging feeling that refused to leave his mind.

“Jing-ge,” a voice whispered from beside him, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned his head slightly to see Yan Mei, one of the few people at the academy who dared to speak to him without hesitation. She was from the Bai clan, her long black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her eyes bright despite the gloomy weather. “Are you even listening? Professor Zhang’s talking about the Enshrouded Assembly’s new regulations. It might be important.”

Xuan Jing gave her a blank stare, one that clearly communicated his lack of interest. Yan Mei sighed, rolling her eyes. “Right, I forgot. You don’t care about any of this, do you?” she muttered, leaning back in her seat. “Must be nice, being so above it all.”

Xuan Jing didn’t bother to respond, his gaze returning to the rain-soaked window. It wasn’t that he thought himself above it all—he simply had no patience for things that didn’t matter. Regulations, politics, alliances—these were things that would shift and change regardless of his involvement, and he saw no reason to waste his energy on them.

“Anyway,” Yan Mei continued, her voice dropping lower, her tone turning conspiratorial, “did you hear about the incident last night? They’re saying there was an attack near the Xuan estate. Some kind of creature got in.”

Xuan Jing’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. “Is that so?” he said, his voice devoid of any real emotion.

Yan Mei nodded, her eyes widening slightly. “Yeah. People are saying it was one of the ghosts from the old city. You know, the ones that don’t bother disguising themselves as human. They’re dangerous—my uncle says the Enshrouded Assembly should just get rid of them all.”

Xuan Jing hummed noncommittally, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk. A ghost, she said. He doubted that—it didn’t fit with what he had seen. The man at the gates hadn’t been a ghost; he had been something else, something that shouldn’t have been there. The swirling darkness in his eyes, the unnatural cold of his skin—it was unlike anything Xuan Jing had ever encountered.

As the lecture continued, Xuan Jing let his thoughts drift, the rain outside a steady backdrop to his musings. And despite himself, Xuan Jing felt his curiosity stir. He didn’t care about the politics, the regulations, the balance of power—but this, whatever it was, had caught his interest.

Perhaps, just this once, he would let himself get involved.