Extra 4 (Part 1): Moonlace Bloom

In the heart of the Golden Core Avenue, nestled between two mirrored mountains veiled in celestial mist, a strange herb swayed beneath a canopy of stars.

The Moonlace Bloom.

With silver petals like spun silk and a translucent glow that pulsed faintly to the rhythm of the moon above, it was also known as the Dreamscape Herb. Ancient texts recorded its rarity—born only where yin and yang harmonized, where the sky bled light and shadow in equal measure. Consumed in tandem, it allowed two cultivators to enter each other's mental realms—merging perception, soul, and intent. A dangerous method of cultivation, yes. But for those with trust—and resonance—it was unparalleled.

Su Min rolled a dried petal between her fingers, its softness a sharp contrast to the golden sunlight she radiated. Across from her, beneath a glimmering tree whose bark shimmered like moonstone, Xie Yingying observed in silence. The coldness in her expression was no longer blade-sharp, only cool—tempered by days spent fighting together, bleeding together, breathing in each other's qi.

"So," Su Min said, voice low but light, "are you sure you want to do this? The Moonlace doesn't lie. Even the things we hide from ourselves... it'll drag them out."

Xie Yingying held her gaze. "I know. That's why I agreed."

They consumed the petals—one silver, one gold.

The world folded.

~

When Su Min opened her eyes, the sky above her was split—half bathed in pale silver, half in golden flame. Moonlight and sunlight overlapped but never clashed, curling together like ink in water. She stood in a land that was not hers, yet not foreign. Ancient pavilions drifted above cloud seas; glowing lotuses bloomed between stars; runes shimmered across stone paths like fireflies.

"Your dreamscape…" she murmured. But it wasn't hers alone. She could feel it—the pulse of another soul, distant but near, cautious but open. She turned—

And there stood Xie Yingying, wearing black robes that fluttered with no wind, her silver eyes catching both sun and moonlight.

They didn't speak for a moment.

Su Min's first instinct was to reach out—study this strange place, test its boundaries, take hold of what was offered. But… that would be the old her, wouldn't it?

Xie Yingying began to walk, bare feet silent on the translucent path that materialized beneath them. Su Min followed.

The landscape shifted with each step. Memories pulsed through the dreamscape like echoes: an image of Su Min, bloodied and kneeling before a burning manor. A younger Xie Yingying, meditating beneath a frozen waterfall.

Their burdens. Their truths.

Xie Yingying's voice broke the silence. "They say the Lunar Sovereign is fated to resonate with the Solar… drawn like tide to sun."

Su Min looked at her, heart suddenly uneasy. "So that question had festered too".

"Does that bother you?" she asked, voice deliberately light, but her fingers curled slightly.

"It bothers me that I can't tell… whether I'm drawn to you," Xie Yingying paused—her gaze lifted to the horizon, where the moon hung low, "or just to what you became."

Solar Sovereign Physique.

The words weren't spoken, but they didn't need to be.

Su Min didn't answer. She couldn't. Because wasn't she also here for something else? She glanced away, heart twisting. She remembered the flicker of greed she'd buried—how she'd longed for Xie Yingying's inheritance, the complete legacy of the Heavenly Yin Sect…

She swallowed hard. "I suppose," she murmured, "we're both wondering if we want each other… or what the other has."

Another silence stretched—but now it hummed, taut and aching.

Then, without a word, Su Min reached out—not to seize, not to grasp, but simply to offer. Her fingers hovered near Xie Yingying's, and for a moment, neither moved.

The air between them shimmered faintly, heat and chill mingling as if even the dreamscape held its breath.

Xie Yingying's hand lifted.

Not quite touching—her fingertips brushed the space just above Su Min's knuckles. As though to confirm that the warmth she felt wasn't simply the dream's illusion.

It wasn't.

A faint ripple passed through the dreamscape. Petals from moonlotus trees began to drift upward instead of falling, suspended like stars. Light bent around them gently, cradling instead of blinding.

Xie Yingying didn't flinch from the nearness.

She stepped closer, just enough that Su Min could feel the press of her spiritual aura—a soft, moon-slick sheen that curved toward Su Min's flame like a moth to fire.

"You're always holding something back," Xie Yingying said, not accusing. Just observing.

Su Min's smile faltered. She had no ready lie. But instead of answering with words, she lifted her hand again—this time pressing it softly against Xie Yingying's shoulder.

"I don't want to take," Su Min said, voice low. "I want to… understand."

Xie Yingying's breath hitched.

It wasn't a grand gesture. It wasn't lust or longing sharpened to hunger. But it was intimacy—the kind that could only come when both parties stood at the border of themselves and let the other look in.

A memory surfaced from Su Min's side of the dreamscape—not from seclusion or alchemical toil, but from a far earlier scar.

She was fourteen again.

Standing barefoot on cold tiles slick with blood, watching the ancestral Su Clan Mansion burn.

The night had smelled of peach blossoms and ash.

Soldiers in gold-threaded armor moved like ghosts through the smoke, blades still dripping. Somewhere beneath the roar of fire, she could hear the cries—her cousins, her elders—dying not in battle, but in the Emperor's mockery of justice.

In another flash, the scene shifted: a stone-walled cell, damp and rank. Su Min curled around herself in the corner, listening to her uncle scream until his voice gave out.

"Confess," they'd said. "Confess your treason."

She hadn't cried. Not then. She had simply waited—silent, unmoving—until even the rats avoided her.

And now, in this dreamscape, that girl looked out from the memory's edge and met Xie Yingying's eyes.

But Xie Yingying didn't recoil.

Instead, her own memory surfaced in reply—of her kneeling alone in the sealed sanctuary of the Heavenly Yin Sect, hearing her masters die one by one as they activated the self-destruction formation to shield her. Cold moonlight had poured through the broken dome above, and she'd sworn she would carry their will alone.

She hadn't expected anyone to ever see that moment.

And yet—here they stood, gazing not at each other's brilliance, but at their ruins.

They both saw.

They both understood.

Without speaking, they began to move—through a corridor formed of starlight and memory. They crossed shifting bridges of moonbeams, climbed terraces where the sun bled golden sap through branches, and stood in silent harmony atop the twin statues of the Sovereigns, Lunar and Solar, as if measuring the distance between them.

As they walked, their steps grew more synchronized. A quiet rhythm emerged—heralded not by clash or command, but by trust.

One such trial came in the form of a powerful illusion in the shape of a dark, twisted version of Su Min—a version consumed by her greed for power, her soul shattered and unrecognizable. In the illusion, Su Min was cold and calculating, willing to sacrifice everything, even Xie Yingying, to achieve her goals. Xie Yingying, struggling with the overwhelming feelings of betrayal, almost gave in to the illusion, believing that Su Min had truly become like the people who had once betrayed her.

But Su Min's voice broke through, calling out to Xie Yingying with an intensity that shattered the illusion. "You know me," she said, her words a lifeline. "I will never become them."

In that moment, Xie Yingying's heart shifted. The truth of their bond, the rawness of their emotions, couldn't be denied anymore. She had feared becoming just another person in Su Min's world—a casualty of fate—but in the end, she realized that Su Min's heart, like her own, was still healing, still capable of love and trust.

The next trial was even more personal—a manifestation of Xie Yingying's own fears: the overwhelming pressure to remain distant, to hide her true feelings behind the cold facade of the Lunar Sovereign Physique. In this illusion, she was trapped in a cage of moonlight, her body aching from the strain of restraining her desires, her power, and her emotions.

Su Min entered the illusion to save her, but she didn't do so as a protector. She entered as an equal, as someone who understood the weight of what Xie Yingying was facing. As the two of them faced the trial together, Su Min reached out, her touch tender yet firm. "You don't have to hide, Yingying. Not from me."

The cage shattered.

Xie Yingying's greatest fear had always been that her connection to Su Min was a product of their fated resonance, of the Solar and Lunar energies intertwining. She had lived in constant doubt, unsure whether her feelings were hers or just an effect of their unique bond. But in this moment, with Su Min standing beside her, with her heart open and vulnerable, Xie Yingying finally realized that what she felt for Su Min was real. It wasn't just the resonance—it was the quiet, unspoken moments they had shared, the way Su Min had never treated her as just a cauldron, but as a person.

Before she could fall, Su Min caught her wrist. But instead of pulling her close, she steadied her and released her.

She didn't take advantage.

She didn't demand thanks.

Only met her gaze.

"You always move ahead like you're alone," Su Min said, almost gently.

Xie Yingying's lips curved—sad, but soft. "Because I always was."

A beat passed.

"Not anymore," Su Min said.

This time, Xie Yingying didn't look away.

Their hands met again, this time naturally. Interlaced—not with hunger, but with recognition. As if their souls were now walking beside each other too, a step at a time.

And then came a final test—an empty courtyard where the dreamscape dissolved around them, leaving only themselves and the marks of their inheritance pulsing faintly across their skin.

Here, the resonance peaked.

The Solar and Lunar Sovereign Physiques didn't clash—they breathed together, pulses syncing like a tide answering the sun.

But there was no explosion of passion. No breaking kiss.

Just stillness.

Their foreheads touched.

And in that quiet place, Su Min finally admitted—not in words, but in the curve of her hand against Xie Yingying's cheek—that she didn't just want her legacy.

She wanted her.

And Xie Yingying, with the barest tilt of her head and the weightless sigh that followed, allowed herself to want in return.

Want her—not because of some heavenly resonance, but because of who Su Min was underneath the brilliance.

When they parted, it was with lingering fingers and a silence no longer taut, but warm.

The dreamscape began to dissolve. The shared world slowly unraveled.

And in the last moments, just before waking, both women found the answers to the questions they hadn't dared speak.

But neither voiced them.

Not yet.

They carried them in their hearts, like heat beneath the skin—silent, unseen, but impossible to ignore.