Chapter 10
The Whisper Before Dawn
The next morning arrived red.
Not from sunrise — but from the smoke that coiled above Holy Bell City.
Nyxen stood on the temple's outer cliff, wrapped in a gray monk's robe, eyes closed as he listened to the chaos below.
The bells of morning prayer had been replaced by shouts.
The Pure Heart Monks had found something — or someone.
And the air carried the bitter scent of burning parchment.
He opened his eyes slowly. "They've started the purge…"
He'd seen it before.
Every time the old orders sensed decay within themselves, they didn't cleanse — they burned.
The Council of Fire
Inside the Grand Hall, monks in golden robes knelt before the Abbot.
The statue of the thousand-eyed Buddha loomed above them, its expression unreadable under the flickering light.
"Sin has entered our temple," the Abbot intoned.
"The bell has been shattered. The faith of the young is tainted. One among us carries the scent of the fallen Dao."
Murmurs filled the hall.
Lianhua stood among them, her head bowed.
Her heart pounded — not from guilt, but fear. She knew who they meant.
Nyxen.
Then a shadow stepped forward, kneeling.
It was Monk Yuan, once Nyxen's quiet supporter, now trembling with zeal.
"Abbot, I saw him return. The wanderer — the one who defied the trial — he still walks among us!"
The Abbot's voice was calm but heavy. "Bring him to the Lotus Furnace."
At those words, the monks chanted — low and chilling.
Purify the false. Restore the silence.
The Gathering Storm
That night, Lianhua slipped out of the hall.
The moonlight touched her black-and-gray hair as she ran across the temple bridges.
Her thoughts spun wildly — her master's teachings, Nyxen's words, the warmth of his hand.
"If love is impurity, then why does it feel so close to heaven?"
She reached the outer gardens, where she felt it — his presence.
He was standing by the frozen pond, eyes fixed on the reflection of the shattered bell tower.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered.
"I could say the same," he said, not turning. "They've declared me a heretic."
"Then why stay?"
He smiled faintly. "Because I'm tired of running from ghosts. Maybe it's time I faced them."
The Lotus Furnace
The temple courtyard was filled by dawn — hundreds of monks in formation, chanting as fire roared in the center.
The Lotus Furnace — the sacred pyre used to burn corrupted relics — had not been lit in decades.
Now, it awaited a living sacrifice.
Nyxen walked forward calmly, his gray robe fluttering in the wind.
The monks stepped back — fearful, uncertain.
"Do you confess?" asked the Abbot.
Nyxen tilted his head. "To what?"
"To walking the path of desire. To touching forbidden truth."
He smiled faintly. "Truth cannot be forbidden."
Gasps spread through the monks. The Abbot's staff struck the ground, and flames rose higher.
"Then you leave us no choice."
Chains of spirit light wrapped around Nyxen's body, searing through flesh and bone.
Lianhua stepped forward instinctively — "Wait!" — but two monks seized her arms.
The Abbot declared,
"By the will of the Lotus, impurity shall be burned from this world!"
The Hidden Sect
Just as the fire surged, the ground trembled.
The air warped — and a roar thundered beneath the temple.
Crimson light burst through the floor as the tiles cracked open.
A monstrous figure rose — a twisted monk, half-flesh, half-statue, eyes glowing with molten gold.
The Abbot staggered back, horror on his face.
"This… this is impossible—"
Nyxen's eyes hardened. "So this is the real faith you buried beneath the temple."
He broke the spirit chains with a surge of energy — black and white light spiraling from his hands.
The monks screamed as the abomination turned on its creators.
Lianhua's heart pounded. The air filled with ash, fire, and chants turning to screams.
"Nyxen!"
He turned to her, voice steady amidst the chaos.
"Go! This isn't your battle!"
Flames and Faith
She didn't move. "I won't leave you!"
He met her eyes — for the first time, no mask, no distance.
"You will. Because I can't protect you and fight it at the same time."
He leapt forward, drawing from the flow of his dual Dao — purity and chaos.
Every strike tore through the monster's molten skin, yet it healed instantly.
Lianhua broke free from the monks holding her.
She ran to the furnace and drew her own weapon — a prayer staff forged from lotus wood.
Chanting a forbidden mantra, she struck the creature's leg, light exploding from the impact.
For a heartbeat, the monster reeled.
Nyxen caught her eye. "That's it!"
They fought side by side — blade and prayer, shadow and light — until the entire courtyard became a storm of flame and dust.
The Fall of Holy Bell Temple
The abomination screamed, its molten blood splashing across the altar.
The Abbot, consumed by madness, rushed forward —
"Stop! You are defiling the Lotus!"
The creature turned its head and struck him down in one blow.
The golden statue behind them cracked, its thousand eyes bleeding molten tears.
The entire temple began to crumble.
Nyxen caught Lianhua's arm and pulled her toward the outer gate.
She stumbled, coughing through the smoke.
"Don't stop," he growled, "or you'll die here."
They ran across the collapsing bridge, the fire reflecting on the frozen pond — red and gold, like dying stars.
The Silent Aftermath
When dawn came, Holy Bell Temple was gone.
Only ashes remained, and the scent of burnt incense lingered like the ghost of a prayer.
Lianhua lay in the grass, trembling. Nyxen knelt beside her, blood dripping from his shoulder.
"It's over," he said quietly.
She looked at him — at the soot covering his face, the exhaustion in his eyes.
He looked almost mortal.
"What happens now?" she asked.
He smiled weakly. "Now? We start walking again."
"Walking where?"
He looked to the horizon — where distant mountains glowed faintly in the light.
"To a place where faith doesn't mean blindness."
She didn't understand his words fully.
But as she stood beside him, something in her heart shifted — like a lotus blooming in mud.
The Fire Beneath
As they left the ruins, a final bell tone echoed faintly behind them — cracked but alive.
Neither turned back.
For both, the fire beneath the Lotus had burned something away — not purity, not sin, but certainty.
And in its place, a question was born.
What does it mean to truly be pure…
when even gods bleed?