The rain never truly left the Black Cloud Sect. It returned night after night, crawling down from the peaks like a second skin for the mountains, a slow and patient hunter. Wei Lian had come to love the rain. It washed the blood from the courtyards, blurred tracks, drowned secrets—and was honest in its coldness.
But tonight, even the rain felt watchful.
Wei Lian sat cross-legged in his cave, incense smoke coiling up to the low ceiling, blue flame flickering over the altar. The silver talisman from the mysterious messenger still glimmered in the shadows. Its Qi signature pulsed like a faint heartbeat, a reminder that his legend—and his danger—now reached beyond sect walls.
To be feared is to live with a blade at your throat. But to be truly unknown—that is the only armor left.
He meditated on the tenth layer, careful to keep its true pulse hidden behind the steady rhythm of Foundation Qi. Each breath was measured. Each thought was weighted.
A knock broke the stillness.
Wei Lian did not move.
A second knock, softer, like the tap of bone on stone.
He reached for his sword and rose.
The door slid open. Lin Yu stood there, hair plastered to his skull, breath coming in little gasps.
"Senior Wei… it's the alchemy hall. Two dead, inner disciples. They're saying your name." His hands trembled. "There's a note…"
Wei Lian pulled Lin Yu inside, closing the door behind them.
"Speak plainly."
Lin Yu's voice cracked. "It says you promised them protection. That you betrayed them. Elder Su sent guards—he's calling for you."
Wei Lian's gaze sharpened.
"Who were they?"
"Yu Mei and Lian Kun."
He felt a cold pang. Two of his own pawns—useful, but never trusted with secrets. Both had been quietly ambitious, easily nudged, but not loyal. Still, someone had twisted their deaths into a message.
He donned his raincloak and stepped into the night.
"Stay here. Answer no summons. If anyone asks, you were tending the archives."
Lin Yu nodded, grateful and terrified.
Wei Lian vanished into the storm.
The alchemy hall was a nest of lanterns and hushed voices. Elder Su stood over two bodies, their faces twisted in agony, lips stained black. Disciples clustered in doorways, eyes huge, as if waiting for the next thunderbolt.
Wei Lian entered without ceremony.
Elder Su raised a scrap of paper.
"Read."
Wei Lian scanned it quickly:
Wei Lian promised us a shield, but his protection is a curse. To cross him is to die alone. May the sect beware.
He studied the corpses—Yu Mei and Lian Kun. Their fingers were curled, as if clutching for hope at the end.
Wei Lian's face was a mask.
"Lotus venom. Hard to obtain. No one in the inner court could brew it without help."
Su sneered.
"But you could."
Wei Lian did not flinch.
"If I wanted them dead, there would be no paper trail. And no bodies."
Elder Mu entered, face like stone.
"You are clever, Wei Lian. But clever men die as easily as fools. You are confined to quarters until this is solved."
Wei Lian bowed
"As you command."
But inside, his mind was already unspooling the web. Someone is turning my own pawns into a noose. And they want the world to see me hanged.
Back in his cave, Wei Lian paced in the darkness. The silver talisman glowed faintly. He ran a thumb along its edge, feeling the strange, alien Qi. He remembered the masked messenger in the garden, her warning: The next test will come from beyond.
He summoned Lin Yu again.
"Who have you seen in the sect? Any new faces? Anything out of place?"
Lin Yu hesitated.
"There are… new servants. And a masked man was seen near the alchemy stores tonight."
Wei Lian's eyes narrowed.
"Masked?"
Lin Yu nodded.
"White, like for funerals. No one knows him."
Wei Lian nodded.
"Disappear for three days. The kitchens will give you work."
Lin Yu bowed and fled.
Wei Lian was left alone.
He meditated. The tenth layer pulsed deep beneath the Foundation surface. He recited the old adage: Those who move fastest in the shadows die slowest in the light.
A memory surfaced—his mother's voice:
"Don't trust even your own shadow. It only follows you when you face the sun."
He smiled, bitter. Trust is a weakness. But suspicion is a poison. Too much of either, and you rot from within.
Hours passed. Wei Lian changed into black, left the cave through a secret exit, and slipped through the rain-drenched pines to the outer compound. There, in the refuse behind the kitchens, he waited.
Soon enough, he saw him: a new "servant," broad-shouldered, moving too carefully for a real laborer.
Wei Lian followed at a distance. The man stopped by a small shrine, knelt, and left something—a thin slip of paper.
Wei Lian moved closer, silent as breath
He read the slip by the light of lightning:
"If you want your secret to remain yours, meet me at the river bridge. Midnight. Alone."
A test. Or a trap.
He returned to his cave, mind burning. The tenth layer was a myth. Now it's a rumor. One more step, and it becomes a death sentence.
He weighed his options.
Go, and risk a knife in the dark.
Don't go, and risk his secret becoming a weapon for others.
He smiled.
No matter how far you climb, the ghosts of the world will come knocking. The only question is, will you answer—or will you break the door?
He slipped the Severed Pulse Sword into his sleeve and vanished into the night—heading for the river, ready to face whatever ghost knocked twice.