The wind screamed down the mountain pass like a wounded beast.
Mo Lianyin tightened the strap on his sword and glanced at Qingxue. She hadn't spoken a word since the argument two nights ago, and the silence between them felt like a canyon neither could cross.
They were almost at the gates of Xueyang City—the place she had said would be her last stop.
He told himself he wouldn't try to change her mind.
He also told himself he didn't care.
Both were lies.
---
The ground trembled.
A shadow passed over them.
From the sky descended a mass of black feathers and bone—an Eclipse Roc, its wings blotting out the pale sun. Behind it came three riders dressed in crimson armor, the insignia of the Vermillion Court blazing on their chests.
Qingxue's hand went instinctively to her bow. "They're here for you," she said, voice flat.
"Then don't get involved," he replied, though even as he said it, he knew she would never walk away from a fight she could win.
---
The Roc screamed, and the riders charged.
Mo Lianyin's pulse slowed. The Fourth Forbidden Art surged in his veins, heat and darkness coiling together. He didn't want to use it—not in front of her, not after what she'd seen—but there was no time for restraint.
Steel clashed with steel.
One rider swung low, his spear whistling toward Lianyin's legs. Lianyin blocked, twisted, and drove his blade upward, cutting through armor as if it were cloth.
The second rider tried to flank him, only to be brought down by an arrow through the throat—Qingxue's arrow.
---
For a heartbeat, they moved as they always had: flawless rhythm, unspoken trust.
Lianyin broke the Roc's wing with a single arc of his sword, black fire trailing in the snow. The beast shrieked and crashed into the mountainside.
The last rider hesitated, eyes flicking between them.
Bad mistake.
Qingxue's arrow pierced his chest just as Lianyin's blade carved through his helm.
---
The wind carried their breath into the cold air. The battlefield was theirs.
Qingxue lowered her bow. She looked at him, and for a moment—just a moment—it felt like nothing had changed.
Then she said quietly, "You see? You can fight without losing yourself."
He didn't answer. He didn't know if she was right.
---
They reached the gates of Xueyang City by nightfall. Lantern light flickered across her face as she stopped, staring at the bustling streets ahead.
"This is where I leave," she said.
The words shouldn't have hurt; he'd known they were coming. But they still felt like a blade sliding between his ribs.
He wanted to ask her to stay. He wanted to promise he'd never touch the Forbidden Arts again. But he didn't lie—not to her.
So he only nodded.
---
She lingered, as if expecting him to say more. When he didn't, she gave him one last look—a mix of pride, sorrow, and something unspoken—and stepped through the gates.
The crowd swallowed her.
And Mo Lianyin stood there in the snow, feeling like the world had gone silent again.