The rain had been falling for three days without pause, turning the once-bright courtyards of Xuanming Sect into pools of black water that reflected a fractured sky. Mo Lianyin sat beneath the pavilion roof, his robes soaked despite the shelter, his long hair clinging to his cheeks like dark silk threads. He hadn't moved in hours, save for the faint twitch of his fingers tracing invisible runes into the wet wood of the bench.
The Seventh Forbidden Art — Heart Lotus Severance — was a cruel technique. It promised power beyond measure at the cost of hollowing the soul, yet Lianyin could not ignore it. The enemy was too close, and his enemies were not men easily felled by ordinary cultivation.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft splash. Someone had stepped into the shallow puddle at the edge of the pavilion. A slim figure approached — crimson umbrella, snow-white robes lined with gold thread. Even through the curtain of rain, the man's face was striking: delicate enough to seem harmless, but with eyes that glittered like drawn blades.
"Mo Lianyin," the man greeted, voice like wine poured into crystal. "Still chasing the arts that will destroy you?"
"Zevian Vale," Lianyin replied coldly, not lifting his head. "If you've come to mock me, the door is behind you."
Zevian laughed, the sound lilting yet edged. "Mock you? No. I've come to warn you. The Heart Lotus Severance will strip away what remains of your humanity. You'll be nothing but a husk driven by vengeance."
"That's all I need to be."
The words fell heavy between them. For a moment, the rain seemed to still. Zevian's gaze lingered on him — not pitying, not cruel, but… searching.
"You think vengeance will fill the void they left in you," Zevian murmured. "But it will only widen it."
Lianyin's eyes snapped to him. "And what do you know of voids?"
Zevian closed the umbrella, rain sliding down his hair and collar. "Enough to know that once the lotus blooms red, you can never return to white."
He stepped closer, close enough for Lianyin to smell the faint sandalwood scent on his robes.
"You'll need a blood anchor," Zevian said softly. "Without it, the Severance will consume you before your enemies ever touch you."
"I'm aware," Lianyin answered, though his voice tightened.
Zevian's lips curved into something unreadable. "Then you also know what that means. A willing heart bound to yours… or an unwilling one, taken by force."
The memory of a single person's face flickered in Lianyin's mind — someone he could never bind that way, someone who would never forgive him if he tried.
"I will find my own way," he said flatly.
Zevian tilted his head, his smile deepening. "Then hurry. The Crimson Lotus Court moves tonight. If they reach the Inner Sanctum, your precious Moon's Shadow Seal will be nothing but a story told by drunk disciples."
With that, Zevian turned, walking into the rain without another word.
Lianyin sat still for a long time after he was gone, the rainwater dripping from the pavilion roof onto his boots. He could feel the Severance stirring in his core — a cold, deliberate hunger, whispering for a heart to anchor it. His fingers clenched against the bench until the wood cracked.
If the Crimson Lotus Court was moving tonight… then so would he.
He rose, the water streaming from his robes as he stepped into the downpour, his shadow stretching like a black blade across the flooded courtyard.
The night was far from over. And before dawn, someone's heart would be bound to his — whether willingly or not