The Report
The night mist had not yet lifted when Elder Mo Xuan sat in his chambers, brush in hand, writing by the light of a single oil lamp.
He paused mid-stroke when Su Rou entered, bowing low. She placed a sealed scroll before him with trembling hands.
Mo Xuan's smile was calm, but his eyes sharpened. "Speak."
Su Rou hesitated. "Disciple Shen… clashed with someone last night. Not from the sect. A swordsman."
Mo Xuan's brush resumed its stroke, as though he had already expected it. "Azure Sky Pavilion?"
Her silence confirmed it.
The elder chuckled softly. "Ah. So the righteous dogs have caught his scent." He set the brush aside, leaning back. "And did he survive?"
Su Rou swallowed. "Yes. But…" She faltered, choosing her words carefully. "The swordsman spared him."
Mo Xuan's eyes gleamed. "Interesting. Very interesting."
He rose, hands folded behind his back. "A serpent's child drawing the attention of the Pavilion so soon… how fortunate."
Su Rou dared a glance at him. "Fortunate? Elder, if the Pavilion discovers—"
"They already know," Mo Xuan cut her off smoothly. "What matters is how we use it."
⸻
Su Rou's Conflict
When she left his chamber, Su Rou's steps were unsteady. Her chest ached with the weight of her choices.
She had told the elder the truth—but not all of it. She hadn't said how Shen Lian had trembled afterward, how he had nearly lost himself to the hunger. She hadn't said how his eyes glowed like a beast's when he struck.
And she hadn't told him the swordsman's name: Xiao Yichen.
That omission was her rebellion. Small, dangerous, and perhaps meaningless—but it was hers.
She pressed her hand over her heart. "Shen Lian…" she whispered into the mist.
Every step she took deepened the divide between duty and her own will.
⸻
Mo Xuan's Private Thought
Back in his chambers, Mo Xuan poured a cup of bitter tea, watching the steam curl.
"Xiao Yichen," he murmured, though Su Rou had not spoken the name. "Azure Sky Pavilion's prized blade. So, the righteous hounds sniff earlier than I hoped."
He sipped, lips curving.
"But no matter. Let them circle. A devourer grows sharper when hunted."
His gaze turned toward the serpent pits below, as if he could see through the stone to the chained beast.
"The Lotus blooms again," he whispered. "And this time, it will not be wasted."
⸻
A Warning Unspoken
That evening, Su Rou found Shen Lian sitting alone in the abandoned storehouse, the lanternlight casting sharp shadows across his face.
She hesitated at the threshold. He looked up, his eyes faintly glimmering. "You came."
Her heart clenched. She wanted to speak—to warn him that Azure Sky Pavilion now knew of him, that Elder Mo Xuan was weaving nets around him tighter each day.
But the words caught in her throat. If she spoke, she would betray the sect. If she stayed silent, she betrayed him.
In the end, she only whispered, "Be careful."
Shen Lian studied her a long moment, then smiled faintly. "I always am."
But his hand, clenched in his sleeve, trembled.
⸻
Cliffhanger
That night, Shen Lian dreamed again. The lotus inside him trembled, four petals straining to open fully.
Each voice shouted louder. Lu Chen's arrogance. The wolf's hunger. Zhao Kun's fear. And something new, darker, nameless.
He woke with sweat freezing on his skin. The whispers echoed in his ears.
Soon.
And in the serpent pits below, the chained Abyssal Serpent lifted its head, blind eyes glowing faintly as if listening to the same call.