The sun had barely risen when the first knock came.
It wasn't polite. It was sharp, commanding, the kind of knock that didn't request entry—it demanded it.
Li Tianran opened his eyes slowly. He hadn't slept; the jagged black Qi coursing through his meridians made it impossible. But he didn't need sleep. He needed strength.
"Li Tianran," a voice called from the other side. Calm. Deep. Dangerous. "The Elder summons you."
For a moment, he considered pretending he didn't hear. But no. To ignore such a summons would be suicide.
He rose, joints creaking. His body still felt like a battlefield—Qi tearing and rebuilding his meridians, flesh knitting itself back together from training—but his grip on his blade was steady.
He opened the door.
Outside stood a tall man in pristine azure robes, an inner sect disciple. His gaze flicked over Tianran, filled with quiet disdain. "You. Follow me."
Tianran said nothing. He simply stepped out and followed.
---
The Azure Vein Sect's inner sanctum was another world.
Polished jade floors gleamed in the sunlight, statues of ancient sages towered over marble courtyards, and streams of spiritual mist coiled around carefully manicured gardens. Every step Tianran took reminded him that this was not his world.
Disciples passed by, all wearing the same mocking expression.
"Isn't that the cripple?" one whispered.
"I thought he was as good as dead," another chuckled. "Must be a mistake keeping him here."
He ignored them. But deep inside, the Qi in his veins stirred violently, like it shared his anger.
> "Ignore the gnats," Mo Cangsheng's voice rumbled in his mind. "Their opinions weigh less than air. Only the sharpness of your blade matters."
Tianran clenched his fists. Then I'll sharpen it.
---
They reached the top of the sect's main pavilion—a place Tianran had never dared approach.
The meditation hall smelled faintly of sandalwood. At its center sat a man on a raised dais, legs crossed, robes more elaborate than any Tianran had seen.
Wu Long.
The sect's senior disciple.
He opened his eyes slowly, and Tianran immediately felt it—a crushing pressure, like a mountain sitting on his shoulders.
"So," Wu Long said, his voice smooth but cold, "you're the cripple who humiliated Wu Jian."
Tianran didn't answer.
"Speak," Wu Long demanded, his tone sharp. "Do you know who I am?"
"No," Tianran said flatly.
The man's lip curled. "I am Wu Long. Senior disciple of the Azure Vein Sect. To humiliate Wu Jian is to humiliate me."
Tianran said nothing.
"I should kill you for that insult," Wu Long continued. "But I am generous. So I will give you a choice."
Tianran's eyes narrowed. "…A choice?"
"Kneel," Wu Long said simply. "Beg for forgiveness. Sever your own cultivation. Do this, and I'll let you live."
The room went silent.
Tianran stared at him for a long moment. Then… he laughed.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't mocking. But it was enough to make Wu Long's brow twitch.
"You find this amusing?" Wu Long asked, his voice dangerously soft.
Tianran met his gaze, unflinching. "You think I crawled through hell just to kneel? Kill me if you want. But I won't grovel."
---
> "Good," Mo Cangsheng's voice growled in his mind. "This is the right answer. The Severing Path does not kneel."
---
Wu Long's aura exploded.
The chamber shook as his Qi crashed down like a falling mountain. Tianran's knees buckled. His ribs creaked under the pressure.
"Then you die."
A golden light gathered at Wu Long's hand, condensing into a blade of pure energy.
---
Tianran's hand moved on instinct.
The jagged black Qi surged through his meridians like a raging tide. He drew his crude blade, slashing upward in a vicious arc.
CLANG!
The two forces collided—Wu Long's refined, golden Qi against Tianran's raw, chaotic energy.
The impact sent Tianran flying into the chamber wall. Pain erupted in his chest. He tasted blood.
"Pathetic," Wu Long sneered. "Even with that filthy energy, you're nothing."
---
> "Tianran," Mo Cangsheng's voice cut through the haze. "You are about to die. Is this where you stop? Is this where you let a dog of the heavens decide your worth?"
Tianran gritted his teeth. "No."
> "Then cut him."
"How? He's—"
> "Stop thinking about how. Stop fearing. Stop doubting. Put everything—every memory, every hatred, every reason you live—into your next strike. And sever."
---
Wu Long advanced. "I'll make this slow."
Tianran rose. His vision blurred. His muscles screamed.
But his will sharpened.
He thought of Qing. Her soft smile despite her hunger. The way she hid her pain so he could bear his.
He thought of Wu Jian's smirk. Of every insult, every beating, every humiliation.
He thought of the heavens themselves—indifferent, laughing at mortals like him.
I will not kneel.
I will not break.
I will not be bound.
The black Qi erupted.
For a moment, it felt like the world stopped.
---
Tianran lunged.
His blade moved faster than it ever had, a blur of jagged energy and pure intent.
Wu Long's smirk vanished. He raised his energy blade to block—
Too slow.
Tianran's strike cut through the golden blade like paper.
Blood sprayed.
A shallow but deep slash opened across Wu Long's shoulder, staining his immaculate robes crimson.
Wu Long staggered back, shock twisting his face.
"You—"
Tianran didn't let him finish. He swung again, another vicious slash toward Wu Long's neck.
Wu Long barely dodged, the blade grazing his jaw. He leapt back, panting.
"Impossible," he spat. "You're just an outer disciple. A cripple!"
Tianran leveled his crude blade at him. "Not anymore."
---
> "Good," Mo Cangsheng said, satisfaction dripping from his tone. "That was your second true severing slash. You are beginning to wake up."
---
Wu Long's fury boiled over. "You dare wound me?!"
His Qi surged, golden light blazing around him like a miniature sun.
"You will die here!"
---
And then—
Another presence filled the room.
Colder. Heavier. Stronger than either of them.
"Enough."
The voice was calm, but it froze Tianran's blood.
At the doorway stood an older man with long white hair, his simple grey robes somehow more imposing than Wu Long's gilded attire. His eyes, cold and ancient, swept over them both.
"Elder Jiang…" Wu Long immediately bowed. "This cripple—he attacked—"
Jiang raised a hand.
Silence.
"Leave," Jiang said.
Wu Long opened his mouth to protest—then saw the look in Jiang's eyes and shut it.
He gave Tianran one last murderous glare before storming out.
---
Now they were alone.
Jiang studied Tianran for a long moment.
"You wield a dangerous power," Jiang said finally. "One I've seen only once before."
Tianran said nothing.
The Elder's gaze sharpened. "Mo Cangsheng."
The name hit like a hammer.
"You carry his will," Jiang said. "Do you even know what that means?"
Tianran's grip tightened on his blade. "It means I'll cut apart whatever stands in my way."
Jiang chuckled. "Arrogant. Just like him."
He turned, hands clasped behind his back.
"Be careful, boy. Mo Cangsheng's path doesn't end in glory. It ends in blood."
And then, without another word, Elder Jiang left.
---
Tianran stood in the empty hall, heart still pounding.
> "So," Mo Cangsheng said, amused. "At least one man in this rotten sect remembers me."
"Who is he?" Tianran asked.
> "A survivor," Mo Cangsheng said. "And if he's here, things will soon become… interesting."
Tianran sheathed his blade.
Whatever "interesting" meant, he doubted it would be peaceful.
---
Far from the sect, in that same shadowed place as before, the cloaked figure stirred once more.
"Ah," he whispered, grinning beneath his hood. "The Severing Path walks again."
He vanished into the darkness.