Black Lotus Cult

The scent of burning incense drifted through the chamber, thick with sandalwood and dried lotus petals. The dim glow of red lanterns cast shifting shadows on the lacquered pillars, flickering like phantom silhouettes against the dark walls.

At the heart of the hall, resting upon an obsidian altar, lay a sword.

Even sheathed, its presence was overwhelming. The hilt, wrapped in black silk, bore faint traces of ancient runes, their edges smoothed by time. It was silent—yet it seemed to hum, as though something within it had yet to settle.

A single man sat before it.

Ye Xuanli.

Clad in flowing robes embroidered with silver lotuses, he lounged against the carved armrest of his chair, fingers absently trailing the rim of a jade cup. His expression was unreadable, the candlelight reflecting off his half-lowered lids.

Kneeling before him, a black-clad subordinate pressed his forehead to the floor. His voice was steady, yet laced with caution.

"Master, the sword has stirred rumors once more. The martial world is restless."

Ye Xuanli's fingers stilled.

The underling hesitated before continuing. "There are whispers that it is here."

For a long moment, there was no response.

Then, Ye Xuanli exhaled softly, the corner of his lips curving into a faint smile.

"A sword hidden in the dark is no different from a sword lost in the river. Let them search—it will be like grasping at mist."

His voice was slow, almost indulgent, but the weight of his words pressed down like a cold blade.

The underling swallowed. Yet he dared not stop.

"Li Xin has left the town."

This time, the air shifted.

The jade cup in Ye Xuanli's hand cracked, a thin line snaking across its surface before it shattered completely. A crimson stain spread across his palm as wine dripped from his fingers, but he did not even glance at it.

His smile remained, but his gaze had darkened.

"That man should have withered away in nameless dust."

The kneeling man lowered his head further, his breath shallow.

Ye Xuanli tilted his wrist, letting the last drops of wine slide from his fingertips before brushing them off as if discarding something trivial. His tone remained light, almost amused.

"He will come. Not for vengeance, nor for himself." His gaze flickered toward the altar. "He will come because fate leaves him no other path."

A heavy silence followed.

Then, Ye Xuanli leaned back lazily, the red lanterns casting shifting patterns across his face. "When he does—" he lifted his fingers, flicking away an unseen speck of dust.

"Let him come."

The underling pressed his forehead to the floor once more before retreating into the shadows.

The candle flames trembled for a brief moment before stilling.

Ye Xuanli's gaze returned to the sword, his fingertips grazing the silk-wrapped hilt. The coldness of the metal seeped into his skin, yet the sword remained motionless.

"Do you still long for the hands that once wielded you?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

No answer came.

Yet deep within the darkened halls of Hei Lian Jiao, the air itself seemed to tighten—

As if the sword had heard,

And was waiting.

The morning air carried the crisp scent of damp earth and distant pine. A faint mist still clung to the temple grounds, softening the edges of the world.

Li Xin sat beside a weathered stone, his back resting lightly against it, fingers idly tracing the hilt of the sword across his lap. The blade, though silent, seemed to hum with an unspoken weight.

To wield a sword was to choose,maybe to become a blade, a weapon, a force that cut through the flow of fate.

And once again, he had chosen.

Right or wrong, it no longer mattered.

The quiet crunch of footsteps on gravel broke the stillness.

"You look better."

Jian Hu's voice carried the warmth of a morning breeze, neither pressing nor distant. He stood a few steps away, arms crossed, the ever-present glint of amusement in his eyes.

Li Xin did not immediately reply. He lifted the sword slightly, studying the way the morning light kissed its edge—cold, sharp, unwavering. Then, with a fluid motion, he held it out to Jian Hu.

Jian Hu accepted it without hesitation, his fingers running along the sheath as if reacquainting himself with an old friend. He glanced at Li Xin, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

"It suits you," he mused, his tone laced with meaning.

Li Xin said nothing, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before it disappeared, swallowed by the morning light.

Jian Hu gave the sword one last glance before securing it at his side. He stretched lazily, exhaling as he turned toward the temple steps.

"Come, breakfast is ready." He paused, then added with a casual wave of his hand, "Where is Xiao Yi? Call her as well. We leave after this."

The wind stirred the trees, sending a ripple through the temple's courtyard. Li Xin lingered for a moment longer, gazing at the sky. Then, with a quiet breath, he pushed himself to his feet.

The morning mist had lifted, revealing the world beyond the temple's stone walls. The dirt path stretched ahead, winding through the distant hills that would lead them back to the town. Sunlight painted the sky in pale gold, yet the chill in the air had not faded.

Li Xin stood at the temple's entrance, his gaze distant. Beside him, Jian Hu adjusted his sword, preparing for the journey ahead. A few steps away, Xiao Yi leaned against one of the wooden pillars, arms crossed, eyes fixed on him.

She tilted her head slightly. "You look better."

Li Xin met her gaze briefly before turning his attention to the path ahead. "What are you up to?" he asked.

Xiao Yi exhaled through her nose, a smirk twitching at her lips before fading just as quickly. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Li Xin's expression remained unreadable, but his voice carried a quiet weight. "It's a dangerous path you're walking on. Your feet will be injured." His tone was calm, yet there was something final in it. "Never let yourself walk it again."

For the first time, Xiao Yi's shoulders tensed. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, her nails pressing into her palms. She laughed softly, but it held no amusement.

"You know nothing." Her voice was steady, but the faint tremor beneath it was impossible to miss. "I'm trying to survive. Doing my utmost. This is the path I chose myself. It lets me breathe... gives me a chance to live."

Li Xin said nothing. He merely watched her, his gaze impassive.

Xiao Yi clenched her jaw, her emotions threatening to spill over. "And what about you?" she continued, her voice rising slightly. "Didn't you do the same? You abandoned everything—you abandoned me too."

The words struck like a blade, though Li Xin's expression did not waver.

Xiao Yi let out a bitter laugh. "You ran away. You left it all behind, didn't you? Weren't you the one escaping reality all this time?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on. "I waited for you, Li Xin. For too long... but you never came back. And now, you want to tell me to stop?"

The silence between them was deafening. Even the wind had stilled.

Jian Hu, sensing the weight of their exchange, took a step back, pretending to be busy adjusting his robes.

Li Xin exhaled softly. His gaze, once distant, settled on her with something unreadable—something neither sharp nor gentle, but carved with time itself.

"Then keep walking," he said at last. "If that's the path you chose."

Xiao Yi's breath hitched.

For a moment, she simply stared at him. The morning sun cast a soft glow over his face, highlighting the deep calm that had settled in his features—an indifference that wasn't cruelty, but something far worse.

Acceptance.

Her lips parted, as if to say something, but no words came.

She scoffed, turning away sharply. "Tsk. Annoying as ever."

Jian Hu, watching from the side, clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough with the heavy talk. If we stay any longer, the monks might recruit us." He shot them both a pointed look. "And I don't intend to shave my head just yet."

Neither Li Xin nor Xiao Yi responded, but the tension in the air finally eased.

With that, the three of them stepped onto the path leading back to the town, walking forward together, yet further apart than ever before.