Shen Lian's Perspective
The moment Bao Zhi's scaled fist descended, Shen Lian raised his hand, the lotus inside him roaring awake.
Now. Drink him. Break him. Bloom.
His vision fractured. He saw Bao Zhi through four sets of eyes at once—the smirk of Lu Chen, the weeping dagger-boy, the snarling wolf, the raging Zhao Kun.
The lotus pulsed, roots tearing through his veins. Black tendrils writhed just beneath his skin, begging release.
For an instant, he almost let go.
His palm struck Bao Zhi's chest. The scales rippled. His qi poured in, but instead of breaking through, the lotus pulled. It wanted everything—his qi, his marrow, his life.
"No," Shen Lian snarled inside himself. His teeth clenched. "Not all. Not yet!"
The petals resisted. They surged against him, hungry, eager, pulling Bao Zhi deeper. His body shook as if caught between two hands—his own and the lotus's.
⸻
Bao Zhi's Perspective
At first, Bao Zhi grinned. Shen Lian's palm struck him, but his Thousand Venom Scales held. He laughed.
Then the laughter froze.
Something pressed into him—not qi, not venom, but hunger. His scales didn't resist it. They withered. Cracks spread, black veins crawling across his chest.
He tried to wrench free, but his body wouldn't obey. His qi surged—but instead of strengthening him, it drained outward, sucked into Shen Lian's hand like water into dry sand.
His vision blurred. He felt himself falling, not onto stone, but into a vast black field.
A lotus rose before him, its petals yawning open, its shadow swallowing the horizon.
"No…" he gasped. His voice broke. "What… what is this?!"
The petals leaned closer, whispering, hissing, laughing.
Prey. Prey. Prey.
For the first time in years, Bao Zhi felt fear claw up his throat.
⸻
Shen Lian's Perspective
Inside the lotus, Bao Zhi struggled, thrashing against the roots that bound him. His qi bled in streams into the petals, which quivered eagerly.
Shen Lian's breath came ragged. He could end it. He could let the lotus bloom fully and devour Bao Zhi entirely—body, qi, soul.
The voices screamed: Do it. He is ours.
But another voice echoed, faint, fragile—Su Rou's voice in his memory. Remember yourself.
Shen Lian clenched his jaw, forcing the petals closed, inch by inch. The lotus shook, its roots straining, its whispers shrieking.
"No," Shen Lian growled. "You obey me."
Bao Zhi's qi snapped, his scales shattered. He collapsed onto the stone, alive but broken.
The lotus sulked, its glow dimming, its laughter fading into whispers.
⸻
Bao Zhi's Perspective
When he hit the ground, Bao Zhi gasped, every breath agony. His scales were gone, his qi shredded, his limbs trembling.
He stared up at Shen Lian's figure, standing over him.
But what he saw wasn't a man.
It was the outline of a lotus blooming, black and endless, its petals stretching toward him.
"No…" he croaked. "Not… human…"
Then his vision went dark.
⸻
Shen Lian's Perspective
Smoke curled around him. The petals dimmed, retreating into silence. His chest heaved, blood dripping down his sleeve.
But he stood.
And Bao Zhi lay broken.
⸻
Cliffhanger
The crowd's roar crashed back into his ears. Elders hissed. Su Rou trembled. Mo Xuan smiled.
But inside Shen Lian's veins, the lotus laughed softly.
One more petal, and you will never close us again.
Shen Lian's lips curled faintly, his eyes glinting cold.
"Then I will close you one more time."
But even he did not know how many times more he could succeed.