The snow had stopped falling, but the sky above Xueyang City was heavy with the promise of more.
Mo Lianyin didn't move from where Qingxue had left him. The sound of the marketplace faded, replaced by the slow, deliberate beat of his own heart.
He told himself he would leave in the morning. There was no point lingering where she wouldn't look for him.
But as he turned to go, a cloaked figure stepped from the shadows.
---
The man's face was hidden beneath a hood, but his gloved hand held a rolled scroll bound with black silk.
"From the Vermillion Court," the stranger said. "They told me to put it in your hand."
Mo Lianyin took it without a word. When he broke the seal, a thin line of crimson light ran across the parchment—magic ink, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The words were written in a jagged script:
> *The Roc was only a test. The true hunt begins at dawn.
Your Fifth Forbidden Art is the key to our master's ascension. Surrender it… or watch Xueyang burn.*
---
Lianyin's grip tightened.
The Fourth Forbidden Art still simmered in his blood, whispering for him to destroy the messenger right there. But the man had already vanished into the shadows, leaving only faint bootprints in the snow.
---
He could leave.
He could walk away and let the city fend for itself. It wasn't his fight.
Except… Qingxue was still inside those walls.
The thought alone was enough to make the choice for him.
---
Night fell. Lianyin found a high vantage point on a roof near the city gates, his cloak blending into the darkness. He had fought too many battles blind, trusting instinct. This time he would watch, wait, and strike first.
The hours crawled. The moon crept across the sky. The streets below grew empty, the only sound the distant hum of drunken laughter.
Then—he felt it.
A ripple in the air, subtle but impossible to miss for someone whose soul had been tempered by forbidden power.
---
From the forest beyond the gates, black banners emerged, glinting faintly under the moonlight. Hundreds of Vermillion Court soldiers marched in silence, their armor absorbing the pale glow.
And at the center, carried on a palanquin carved from bones, was a figure in crimson robes and an iron mask—the Blood Envoy.
Lianyin had heard the name whispered before. A master of soul-binding, capable of turning entire cities into obedient husks.
If the Envoy reached the heart of Xueyang, it would be over before dawn.
---
Lianyin's jaw tightened. There was no room for hesitation now.
The Fourth Forbidden Art flared within him—heat and shadow flooding his limbs. But as he gathered the power, something strange happened.
The energy twisted, split, and sank deeper into his veins. The sensation was… different. Sharper.
It was the stirrings of the Fifth Forbidden Art—the very thing the Vermillion Court wanted.
He hadn't tried to summon it.
It was simply awakening.
---
A single thought cut through his mind like a blade:
If he could master it tonight, the city might survive.
If he failed… the Forbidden Art might consume him before the Vermillion Court ever had the chance.
---
The first soldiers reached the gate. Lianyin moved, dropping silently from the roof. His blade left its sheath in a whisper, black fire licking along the edge.
The battle began without warning.
He cut through the first rank before they could even raise their shields, his movements a blur of shadow and steel. But for every soldier he felled, two more closed in.
Arrows hissed past his head. A spear scraped his shoulder.
Then the Blood Envoy raised one pale hand—and the dead soldiers Lianyin had just slain… stood back up.
---
They moved with jerky, unnatural speed, their eyes empty pits. Soul-bound puppets.
Lianyin's breathing slowed. He had no choice now.
He let the Fifth Forbidden Art rise.
---
It was like drowning in molten ice. His vision bled into shades of silver and black, the world slowing around him. He could see the threads of energy binding the dead to the Envoy's will—thin lines of crimson light stretching through the air.
With one slash, he severed the nearest thread. The puppet collapsed instantly.
The Envoy tilted his head, as if amused. "So it awakens…" his voice rasped across the battlefield.
---
Lianyin didn't answer. He had no words left—only the rhythm of battle, the raw, dangerous surge of power in his veins.
Tonight would decide everything.