The night over the Ningyuan Judiciary was cold, white as ice.
On the high walls, the lamps flickered faintly, not shining but etching invisible lines into the air. Together they wove into a web of law like spider silk, sealing the courtyard in a net without seam.
Shen Jin sat quietly upon the stone steps, eyes half-closed as though at rest. Yet the mark on the back of his hand crept steadily outward—red and black veins pulsing with his breath, as though another heart had begun to beat outside his chest.
The next stroke…
The whisper pressed harder, sharp as the brush-tip that would not relent. It urged, it mocked, and it waited.
The air shivered. The lines of the law-net trembled. A chill aura pressed down, forcing the bamboos in the courtyard to bow.
Figures in dark law-robes entered without sound, their steps precise as a blade's edge. The pattern on their robes clearly told—they were from Lingyuan Council. At their head walked a man with a thin face and eyes like winter steel. A black-gold tablet floated above his palm, runes flaring as iron chains of law surged forth.
"Shen Jin. By divine decree, you are to be sealed and escorted."
The words struck like iron. The chains crashed down.
Shen Jin's chest convulsed. The flame-mark blazed, scattering sparks as it clashed with the chains. His breath broke; blood rose at his lips. In his mind, the Seal roared, laughter and command entwined:
Hurry! The next stroke!
"Stop!"
Light burst forth—a mirror unfolding like a white moon. It split the black chains into fragments of shadow. Out of the drifting smoke stepped Luo Qinghan, robes fluttering, gaze cold as frost.
"He is already within the Ningyuan. The Judiciary can judge him as law dictates. Why strike at night?"
The Lingyuan envoy's eyes cut sharp.
"Disciple of the Mirror Sect—you serve within the Lingyuan Council, this order comes from the Divine Court itself. Will you defy it?"
The mirror tilted. The light covers the glow of the envoy's tablet. Luo Qinghan's voice was steady, but steel lay beneath:
"Your order hastens, as though someone fears what might get out of control."
Words snapped short as chains and mirror-light clashed. The courtyard shook under the storm.
Then—from beyond the wall—a green shaft screamed through the dark, burning with venomous fire. It arrowed straight toward Shen Jin's brow. Luo Qinghan swept her sleeve, the mirror caught it, bent it back. The arrow struck stone and hissed, carving a black pit where it fell.
From the dark came a chant, low and cruel:
"Bone of the dead… seize the Seal, and half the Yao Abyss shall be yours!"
The Nanhuang Sect's witchcraft.
The envoy snarled. The Lingyuan disciples leapt to meet the intruders. From the rooftops, more shadows fell—green-robed disciples of Miaoji Tower, white-sleeved disciples of Taiqing Sect, blades already bare.
The courtyard erupted into chaos. Law sigils, venom, steel, mirror-light—layer upon layer, colliding like worlds.
Luo Qinghan stood before Shen Jin, holding back chain and poison alike. Yet she knew: had she not acted, the Seal would already have been crushed beneath the Court's decree. Now, the five sects had joined hands in shadow—there was no holding the storm back.
Amid the clash, a calm voice entered like wind through bamboo:
"Why spill blood beneath the Judiciary's roof?"
Ling Wanzhou stepped lightly into the fray, robes unruffled, his expression warm as though speaking at leisure. Spell-charms spilled from his sleeve, settling upon the ground as though to soothe the chaos.
But Luo Qinghan's eyes sharpened. She saw clearly—the spell steadied not the courtyard, but the formation of the escorts. He had taken his place beside them, not against.
—Mediation in name. Protection in truth.
Her heart grew cold.
Meanwhile, Shen Jin's back pressed against the corner, chains of law closing fast. The flame-mark burned white-hot, threatening to burst through his skin. His breath caught—when a mocking laugh cut across his ear.
"What a fine scene. If you're bound here, I die with you. Hardly fair, is it?"
Shen Jin turned sharply. A figure stepped from the shadows—hair unbound, eyes glinting with a strange blue gleam, his mouth curved in a smile that was more sneer.
"Yan Jiuyan?"
The man flicked a finger. A thread of black light shot into the chains, prying open a narrow gap—just enough for Shen Jin to breathe.
"Consider it a debt,"
Yan Jiuyan muttered, his gaze cold.
"But I carry the soul of Kui Niu within me. It gnaws at my heart with every breath. Unless you find a way to unravel it… I'll lose myself to madness. And when I do, your Seal will burn with me."
Shen Jin's eyes narrowed.
"You're… asking for alliance?"
Yan Jiuyan barked a laugh.
"Alliance? No. Call it two fish tied to one line. You drown, I drown. That's all."
Mockery laced his words, yet the resignation beneath was clear.
"Still…"
His voice dropped lower.
"There's a path through the Grayland. The Mirror Gate awaits you there."
Before Shen Jin could answer, Yan Jiuyan's sword flashed. He plunged into the melee, shadow like a serpent coiling, severing chain after chain that reached for Shen Jin.
The flame-mark seared bright across Shen Jin's hand. Against his chest, the Ash-Law Talisman shuddered faintly, as though opening a seam through the suffocating net.
And in his mind, the whisper struck like thunder—no longer distant, but pressed against his ear:
The next stroke…
The battle raged. Yet within the storm, Shen Jin had seen it—his own way forward, cut through ash and shadow.