A bloody sky stretched overhead, streaked with coal-black clouds that moved like migrating mountains. Beneath, the scorched land was cracked and split, glowing veins of lava visible through the wounds in the earth. A nimble black horse deftly avoided the pitfalls and jagged ground, carrying a young man, Goichi, forged by chaos yet poised, towards a distant walled city.
The city gates loomed ahead, and guards bowed as he trotted past, while streets bustled with handcarts, wagons, and merchants shouting their wares. Despite the crowd, all eyes seemed drawn to Goichi, clad in silvery lamella armor and red silks, his presence a stark contrast to the poverty around him.
Soon, he dismounted before a gate adorned with dragons frozen in a struggle for a polished iron orb. Inside, the sprawling palace glittered amidst ornamental gardens. Gold reflected from corridors lined with silk-clad servants, and he strode to the throne room where the emperor sat in brocaded purple silk, dwarfed only by the golden throne itself.
"Goichi," the emperor said, voice deliberate, "you are to retrieve a package and deliver it directly to the palace. Three guards will accompany you." An advisor handed Goichi an ivory scroll case.
"Yes, my Lord," Goichi bowed. Outside, three guards waited, fresh horses tethered, each introducing themselves with a mix of curiosity and caution.
They rode through rocky terrain, wooded hills, and fertile basins dotted with paddy fields, eventually arriving at a clearing. There, a cart awaited, its solid cage crammed with women, some in rags, some half-naked. One woman, her burnt sienna hair tangled but graceful, caught Goichi's gaze. Her ochre-brown eyes were sad yet luminous, and he found himself captivated despite the dire circumstances.
The journey back to the palace was tense; Goichi's eyes never left her. When they arrived, the procession was greeted with awe, but he kept his focus on her as she disappeared into the palace's interior. Later, under a blooming jasmine tree by a lake, Goichi and the woman, Sagaki, met in secret. They spoke of her past—her village destroyed, family slaughtered, captured and brought to serve the emperor. Tears streamed down her face as she recounted it, and Goichi held her, silently vowing to protect her.
Their nights together were brief and dangerous. They had to slip past guards, avoid watchful eyes, and navigate the palace's labyrinthine corridors. Love and longing were interwoven with fear and anticipation, each moment stolen yet cherished.
But danger found them. In his dreams, Goichi was dragged from his chambers by imperial guards, thrown before the emperor. Sagaki was bound and gagged before him. The emperor's words cut deep: "You shall be executed along with your pitiful excuse for a woman."
Goichi reacted instinctively, tearing through the guards, seizing Sagaki, and fleeing through the palace. They rode through the city streets on horseback, dodging guards, chaos erupting around them. Weeks later, they found refuge in a village called Shinelin, posing as war refugees.
Meanwhile, Bao woke inside a small hut, other trainee monks resting on rice mats around him. Through the walls, the forest whispered its morning songs. Bao dressed and walked to the main temple, where crested swifts flitted above, chirping. Inside, he sat at the front of the mass of monks and recited a mantra, a subtle premonition crawling over him. A young monk touched his shoulder.
"My apologies. I sense a disturbance in your aura—innocent white and gold, yet now dull. I can help, should you desire."
Bao nodded. "Then meet me under the dove tree on the south side of the settlement."
Later, Bao approached the tree, hesitating at the unknown beyond the hut door. Inside, flickering candles cast shadows on a room with a single pillow. Bao knelt, and the disciple spoke of his potential and past pain. Bao recounted his childhood—abandonment, survival through crime, betrayal, and loss—his voice trembling with grief.
"I acknowledge your sorrow," the young master said. "Your aura will grow through training and meditation, but your pain is genuine, and you see clearly."
Bao left the hut, mind whirling, resolved to confront fear no matter the cost.
In Xidi, villagers worked to rebuild. Hammers struck roofs, compost was gathered, and plans were made to pave streets with bricks fired in a new kiln. Goichi, drunk and lamenting his losses, staggered into a tavern. The ground trembled violently, and he realized Mt. Atsui had erupted. Black smoke poured into the sky, ash floated through the streets, and winged demonic shapes descended, devouring townsfolk. Goichi clutched his chest, heart hammering as visions of Shinelin burning mingled with past failures.
The old monk pointed to the rising plume of Mt. Atsui. "It has been prophesied. Chaos will descend, and bloodthirsty demons will feast upon the earth. The White Lotus strays from our teachings, infused with demonic essence. Only five have survived, and I fear they make their way to the village below."
Bao's thoughts went to Jin, willing him to be safe.
Jin, having trained tirelessly, walked with a lotus monk through corridors and courtyards, preparing to face the disasters in Xidi. He watched the devastation—the ruins of homes, burned trees, and rubble where families once lived. Amidst it, he discovered the mangled body of his father, realizing the full weight of loss as tears streamed down his face. His mother was somewhere nearby, possibly beyond saving. The air reeked of smoke and burning hair.
The smoke thickened, the sky darkened, and the distant rumble of Mt. Atsui's eruption shook the earth beneath them. Shadows moved through the ruins—figures cloaked in white and gray, lotus emblems on their chests, infused with a dark, unnatural aura.
Bao and Jin took their positions, hearts pounding, breathing ragged.
"We face them together," Bao said.
"Together," Jin echoed, gripping his sword.
The earth quaked violently as a towering, grotesque figure pulsed with demonic energy emerged from the molten depths of Mt. Atsui. Its minions descended, shrill howls piercing the air. Flames and smoke rose, villages burned, and chaos reigned.
Bao and Jin stood shoulder to shoulder, the last line of defense for the villagers below.
And from the boiling sky above, something ancient, terrible, and alive began to descend toward them.
The ground trembled. The shadows grew.
And then—
A monstrous shape, larger than any man, leapt from the plume, its eyes glowing molten gold. Bao and Jin's hearts stopped. The battle for their lives—and the fate of the world—had begun.