The summons came before dawn.
We were roused by the toll of the bone-bell — a sound never heard except for executions, betrayals, or the death of a captain. The vibration crawled through the safehold's walls like a restless spirit, rattling the stones above our heads.
Wei Lan stirred first, her gourd clinking as she rolled onto her side. Her lips curled into a smile. "Ah. Someone important bled in the night."
Qiao Han groaned, dragging himself upright, scarred arms flexing. "Bone-bell? That's for corpses that matter. Who in the hells died?"
Shen Yu had no strength to speak; his hands fumbled at his satchel, scrolls spilling across the floor in his panic. Ink already smeared his trembling fingers before the first word was written.
I was already standing, fastening my cloak. "We'll know soon."
The corridor outside seethed with movement — wolves from every cell, runners in black, all flowing toward the council hall like ants to the nest's heart. None spoke. None dared. The bone-bell still pulsed through the air, heavy and final.
* * * * * * * * *
The hall was chaos.
The thirteen lamps burned brighter than I had ever seen, smoke rising in thick coils. Captains already filled the crescent of stone seats, but there was no order, no calm. Voices clashed like steel, accusations flying sharper than blades.
At the center of the hall, upon a stone bier, lay the corpse.
I felt Wei Lan's sharp intake of breath beside me. Even Qiao Han's muttering stopped. Shen Yu nearly dropped his scrolls at the sight.
The body was shriveled, veins black as tar, lips cracked, eyes sunken into pits of shadow. The skin clung to bone, brittle as parchment. He had not bled; there was no wound. His flesh had simply collapsed around his frame, as though his lifeforce had been drunk dry.
Captain Black Vulture.
I had never spoken to him directly, but even I knew the name. One of the oldest captains, a man respected for discipline and loyalty, for never bending truth even when shadows demanded it. Wolves whispered that he was the spine of the Lotus — unbreakable, uncompromising, fair even in cruelty.
Now he was ash in skin, a husk.
And the Lotus seethed.
* * * * * * * * *
"Poison," snarled Captain Iron Veil, his voice cutting through the hall like a knife. His veil of black silk fluttered with each syllable. "Only one among us uses toxins that blacken veins. Ink Widow. Do not think your arts are invisible."
Across the crescent, a tall woman rose. Ink Widow's hands were stained to the knuckles, her nails permanently dark from the fluids she brewed. Her eyes flashed with venom to match.
"You dare?" she hissed. "Your chains are subtler, Veil. You could strangle a man's qi in his sleep and leave less trace than this. Do not mask your guilt by painting mine."
The two captains leaned forward, and for the first time I saw it.
A ripple in the air. A resonance.
From Iron Veil's body, faint lines of shadow coiled outward, like threads linking his flesh to the smoke itself. From Ink Widow's fingers dripped faint droplets of dark qi, suspended like beads on invisible strings.
The air thickened. Wolves in the hall drew back, some clutching their throats, others pressing against the walls. Even Qiao Han stiffened, hand twitching toward his saber.
Lein.
Chains of power.
I had heard the word in my last life, spoken with reverence and fear. Only the greatest Murim masters possessed them — living links between body, qi, and will. They were said to be forged in blood, tested in death, strengthened only through relentless killing or devotion.
To see them in truth… was to watch gods bare their fangs.
* * * * * * * * *
"Enough."
The central captain, a broad man with a mane of gray hair, slammed his staff into the stone floor. Sparks of qi flashed where it struck. "The vulture is dead, and already you circle like carrion. Do you mean to devour each other while Iron Hand and Crimson Flame sharpen blades at our gates?"
Iron Veil did not sit. Neither did Ink Widow.
Others joined the storm.
"Perhaps it is external," rumbled the bearded captain, his scars twisting as he spoke. "Crimson Flame's assassins could slip in — drain a man's marrow and vanish. They are fire turned to smoke when they wish."
A thin woman laughed bitterly. "No. This reeks of shadows, not fire. One of us kills our own, and you would look outward?"
The arguments swelled, captains standing, Lein chains sparking faintly in the air. Threads of shadow, coils of flame, whips of smoke, each faint but undeniable. The hall vibrated with restrained power.
One clash, and the mountain would fall.
* * * * * * * * *
I forced myself to stillness. My wolves quivered beside me — Wei Lan's eyes shone with hungry fascination, Qiao Han's jaw clenched, Shen Yu scribbled so fast his ink splattered across his robes.
But me?
I watched.
Not the shouting, not the accusations — the chains. The way qi coiled, how it anchored to breath, how it pulsed when anger sharpened words.
Iron Veil's chains were tight, binding his limbs with discipline. Ink Widow's dripped poison, seeping outward like venom through veins. The bearded captain's were heavy, each link a weight that dragged against the floor when he moved.
I saw patterns.
Threads.
The beginnings of something my last life never granted me.
* * * * * * * * *
The uproar broke only when Silent Reed rose from his seat.
He had not spoken once, had not moved, but when he stood, silence fell.
His voice was quiet. Quieter than the crackle of lamps, quieter than the scrape of Shen Yu's trembling brush. Yet every word carried to the corners of the hall.
"The vulture is dead," Reed said. "The storm is within. Remember your chains. Pull them too tightly, and they will strangle you."
He sat again.
And the captains, one by one, followed. The air eased. Lein threads dimmed, vanishing into flesh.
But suspicion remained, coiled and sharp.
* * * * * * * * *
The central captain's voice returned, harsh and weary.
"The Lotus will not fracture. Not yet. But until the truth is found, every wolf, every cell, every captain is bound under oath: discover what hand killed Black Vulture. Do not let shadows fester in our own halls."
The bone-bell tolled again. The corpse was covered with a black cloth.
The council adjourned.
* * * * * * * * *
We left in silence.
Wei Lan broke it first, her laughter light, almost childlike. "Ahh, beautiful. The mighty captains baring fangs at one another. Shadows devouring shadows. I do so love when predators bleed."
Qiao Han spat. "It stinks of rot. Captains at each other's throats? We're ants under their boots. One misstep and we're crushed."
Shen Yu whispered without lifting his head. "It's the end. Lotus against Lotus… it's the end…" His quill scratched desperately across the parchment, scrawling those words again and again until ink tore the paper.
And me?
I walked, silent.
Because in the hall, I had seen truth.
Not in words, not in accusations — but in chains.
Lein.
The power I had once dreamed of, once touched only faintly in my past life. Now, in this new body, with sharper mind and eyes unclouded by arrogance, I saw its shape.
I did not yet hold a chain. But I understood it better than any wolf had right to.
And one day, I would weave my own.
* * * * * * * * *
The council's smoke clung to us long after we left the hall.
It lingered in our throats, in our lungs, heavy as if we had swallowed the ashes of the vulture himself.
The corridors outside were quieter than usual — no mutters, no laughter. Wolves from other cells passed us, eyes sharp, silence brittle. Every man, every woman, every shadow wore the same thought across their faces: Who killed him?
And behind that thought another: Who will be next?
* * * * * * * * *
We returned to our den in silence. Only once the door shut behind us did Wei Lan let her laughter spill free.
"Glorious," she breathed, dropping her gourd to her lap with a musical clink. "The mighty captains, bristling like dogs over scraps. Did you see the widow's eyes? Poison in every glance. Mmm. Delicious chaos."
She stretched languidly against the wall, savoring the memory like wine.
Qiao Han scowled. His scarred arms folded tight. "Chaos? It's rot. Black Vulture was the spine. Without him, the whole body cracks. And when captains fall, it won't be only them bleeding — it'll be us."
Shen Yu's brush scratched furiously. His hand shook, ink dripping down his wrist. "Lotus devours itself," he whispered again and again, the words spilling like blood. "It always does, always does, always—"
"Quiet."
My voice cut through, low but sharp. He flinched, clutching his scroll to his chest.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, hands on my knees, breath slow, steady, controlled. But inside? My veins still burned with what I had seen.
Lein.
The word itself echoed like the tolling of the bone-bell. Chains of power linking flesh, qi, will — alive, visible, terrible. In my past life, I had only brushed against it once, late, too late, before betrayal snapped my neck. Then, I had not understood. I had only reached, hungry and blind.
But this time, I had seen with clarity.
Patterns.
Flow.
The way Iron Veil's chains tightened when his breath slowed. The way Ink Widow's qi dripped outward, steady and deliberate, like venom seeping through veins.
Not just power. Structure. Logic.
This life had given me sharper eyes, a mind that cut deeper. Lein was no longer just mystery — it was puzzle. And puzzles could be solved.
* * * * * * * * *
Silent Reed entered.
We rose immediately. Wei Lan smirked as though amused at the formality, but even she straightened.
Reed's gaze swept over us — slow, measuring, unreadable. His eyes lingered on me longest.
"You saw," he said.
Not a question.
"Yes," I answered.
Wei Lan tilted her head, intrigued. Qiao Han grunted. Shen Yu shrank.
Reed stepped closer, his presence heavy though his body barely shifted. "The chains. The Lein. You saw."
I inclined my head. "Enough to know what I lacked before. Enough to know why captains stand above wolves."
Reed studied me for a long moment, his silence heavier than words. Then he said:
"This is your test."
The words struck like a blade.
"My… test?" I repeated carefully.
Reed's cloak stirred as though with wind, though no draft touched the room. "The higher masters sent the letter. Black Vulture's death is no accident, no sect assassin. It is the Lotus devouring itself. And in that storm, they wish to see which wolves drown… and which learn to swim in blood."
Wei Lan chuckled low in her throat. "Ahh. Lovely. We're pawns on the board of captains now. Pushed forward to bleed first."
Qiao Han slammed his fist against the wall. "They'll use us as bait. Throw us between captains, between enemies. Wolves against storms. What chance do we have?"
"Chance?" Reed's gaze turned to him, sharp as broken steel. "None. Wolves do not survive storms. Unless—"
His eyes returned to me.
"Unless they become spiders."
The words chilled me.
I bowed my head slightly. "Then I will weave."
Reed's lips twitched — not a smile, but a flicker, gone in an instant. "We shall see."
He left, shadows swallowing him whole.
* * * * * * * * *
The room felt colder after his absence.
Wei Lan leaned toward me, her smile sly. "So, Leader. The Lotus tests you. Captains watch you. How will you dance?"
Qiao Han spat. "With what body? You're still weaker than a sect novice. Lein? You don't even have a spark of it. How do you expect to live through this?"
Shen Yu's quill scratched: Leader cannot live. Leader cannot live. But if he does, he is not man.
I looked at them each in turn. Wei Lan's hunger, Qiao Han's doubt, Shen Yu's fear. And I answered with calm that surprised even myself.
"I don't need Lein yet. I need eyes. I need patterns. I need to see what others cannot. Power without understanding burns itself out. But understanding—" I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the faint tremor of blood through veins. "Understanding can turn weakness into weapon."
Wei Lan's laughter rang soft, musical. "Mmm. You speak like a poisoner, not a warrior. I like it."
Qiao Han shook his head, but I saw something shift in his gaze. Not belief — not yet — but the beginning of grudging trust.
Shen Yu only shivered.
* * * * * * * * *
That night, I did not sleep.
I sat alone in the courtyard, forcing breath slow, pulse slower. I closed my eyes and remembered. Iron Veil's chains, tight as discipline. Ink Widow's poison, dripping like time itself. The bearded captain's heavy links dragging like anchors.
I tried to mimic them.
Not their power — their flow.
I pushed my qi through veins, tracing it with my mind's eye. Every path burned. My lungs heaved. My ribs ached. My fragile body screamed as though it would split apart.
But I endured.
Because this pain was not failure — it was proof. Proof the path existed. Proof I could walk it, however slowly.
The night bled into dawn before I finally collapsed.
* * * * * * * * *
When I woke, Shen Yu was there, scribbling furiously. He startled when my eyes opened, nearly spilling his ink.
"You're… you're pushing too far," he stammered. "Your body… it will break before it chains. You'll die."
I sat up slowly, every joint aching, blood pounding like drums. "Then let it break. And from the pieces, I'll weave stronger."
He stared at me, eyes wide, quill trembling. Then he bent back to his parchment and wrote the words exactly as I'd spoken.
* * * * * * * * *
By midday, a runner came.
Not for Reed. For me.
The boy was young, face pale, eyes averted. He bowed low and held out a folded slip of parchment sealed with black wax.
I broke it.
The words were few.
Lin Xuan. Wolves of Reed. Present yourselves to Captain Iron Veil. Silence will be taken as guilt.
The seal cracked in my hand. The weight of those words pressed harder than any chain.
Wei Lan leaned over my shoulder, her smile sharp as glass. "Ahh. The lie-hunter calls for you. How exciting."
Qiao Han drew his saber half from its sheath, metal whispering. "It's a noose. He'll strangle us with those chains of his."
Shen Yu whispered, "We're dead. Already dead."
I folded the slip, tucking it into my sleeve. My pulse slowed. My breath steadied.
Iron Veil. The man whose eyes saw through masks. The man whose Lein were discipline made manifest.
If I faltered once before him, he would know.
And then the leash around my neck would tighten until it snapped.