In the Shadows
After the crowd's roar faded and the drums called the next names, Shen Lian slipped away from the noise, down into the forgotten corridors near the serpent pits. The air here was damp, the stones slick with moss, the faint hiss of serpents echoing below.
He sat cross-legged, his robe still damp with sweat and blood. His veins glowed faintly black, pulsing with each beat of his heart.
He closed his eyes.
The lotus waited in his dantian. Four petals, trembling, whispering.
But this time, instead of forcing them down, Shen Lian listened.
⸻
The Insight
He replayed every fight.
Lu Chen's reckless arrogance, Zhao Kun's fury, the wolf's hunger — all voices within him now. Bao Zhi's scales cracking, his qi bleeding like water into the lotus.
Each battle had fed the petals. Each rival's strength became a shadow he could touch.
But that was the danger. Every time he pulled from them, he risked being drowned.
And yet—
Shen Lian opened his eyes slowly, his gaze cold. "If I drown," he whispered, "it will be in my own ocean."
He finally understood: the petals weren't just threats. They were tools. If he could order them—not suppress, but command—he could wield their strengths without losing himself.
⸻
The Plan
He breathed deeply, letting the lotus tremble. He felt the wolf's instinct—sharp, predatory, patient. He felt Zhao Kun's rage, molten and unyielding. He felt Lu Chen's arrogance, a boldness that never faltered.
Pieces of them, fragments of their martial arts and will, woven into him.
Shen Lian raised his palm. Black qi coiled from it, not wild this time, but controlled, like a serpent waiting for command.
The cracks in Bao Zhi's scales replayed in his memory. Weakness was not always in the body—it was in rhythm, in pattern, in arrogance. Every serpent had a gap between coils.
And Shen Lian intended to slip through.
He whispered, more to the lotus than to himself, "The next fight, I will not only survive. I will consume."
The petals trembled, laughing faintly. But for once, they bent to his voice.
⸻
Foreshadowing
Back in the arena above, the crowd screamed as another disciple fell in blood. The names of Zhao Yunhai, Wei Jing, and Jiang Fei echoed like thunder.
But in the shadows below, Shen Lian sat silent, his hand curled into a fist.
The serpent pit hissed, the Abyssal Serpent stirring in its chains. Its blind eyes glowed faintly, as if watching him.
For a moment, Shen Lian almost felt its whisper join the petals.
Yes. Bloom.
⸻
Cliffhanger
Shen Lian rose, his robe whispering in the damp air. His gray eyes glinted faintly with black light, his veins steady, his breath controlled.
He had gained his insight. He had sharpened his fangs.
The next battle would not be Bao Zhi's crushing fists or Liu Feng's constricting coils.
It would be sharper. Deadlier.
And Shen Lian already planned how to devour it.