Violet Shroud
The arena vanished into violet haze. The smoke was so thick even disciples in the front rows covered their mouths and eyes. The announcer backed away, coughing, barely able to see the platform.
Inside the mist, only two shadows moved—flickering, clashing, twisting.
Wei Jing's voice drifted soft, serene, like a flute through poison.
"Your body fails with every breath, Shen Lian. The mist is already in your blood."
Shen Lian staggered, his vision blurring, veins bulging faintly black. The lotus pulsed, drinking desperately to burn away the toxins. But each purge cost him strength. His arms felt heavy. His chest rattled with each breath.
The petals whispered: Too much. Too deep. Let us drink her instead.
⸻
The Dance of Poison
Wei Jing glided through the mist, her jade vials shattering one by one. Green dust, violet gas, black specks shimmered faintly in the haze. Each step left trails of death.
Her gloved hand brushed the air near Shen Lian's shoulder. The fabric of his robe darkened instantly, eating away in seconds. His skin burned beneath.
Shen Lian's palm lashed out in retaliation, his strike sharp as a serpent. For an instant, he almost grazed her ribs. But her body bent like silk, flowing around him.
His fingers closed on air.
Wei Jing's lips curved faintly. "You cannot grasp mist."
⸻
The Lotus Flares
Inside him, the lotus surged. The petals trembled, their whispers deafening.
She starves you. She bleeds you. Take her. Drink her poisons. They are yours to devour.
Shen Lian's veins glowed darker. His hand twitched, black tendrils flickering faintly, coiling through the mist. The poison hissed against them—only to be absorbed.
For a heartbeat, the violet haze thinned where the tendrils passed.
The crowd gasped. "He's… he's eating the poison?!"
⸻
Wei Jing's Counter
Wei Jing's eyes narrowed, though her face remained serene. She flicked her wrist, pulling a final jade vial. This one was darker, sealed tighter. The powder within shimmered faintly red.
"No one survives this."
She shattered it on the stone. A crimson mist exploded outward, weaving into the violet, searing the air. Even the braziers hissed as the flames bent away from it.
The crowd recoiled, disciples covering their faces in terror.
"What is that?!"
"Bloodrot powder—he's dead!"
Wei Jing stepped through the crimson haze like a phantom, her gloved hand reaching for Shen Lian's throat.
⸻
The Strain
Shen Lian's body convulsed. His blood boiled in his veins, every breath burning. His knees buckled.
The lotus pulsed violently, petals straining, their laughter deafening.
Now. Or never. Let us bloom. Devour her whole.
His eyes flickered, slit pupils glinting faintly. His hand rose, black tendrils writhing, reaching toward Wei Jing's silhouette.
The crowd screamed, half in terror, half in awe.
⸻
Cliffhanger
Within the crimson haze, petals and poison clashed, shadows writhing together.
From the terraces, no one could tell if Shen Lian had seized Wei Jing… or if she had already filled his veins with silent death.
Su Rou's nails dug into her palms until they bled, her voice breaking in a whisper only she could hear.
"Shen Lian… don't vanish into it…"
The haze churned, and the sound of a scream echoed—unclear whose it was.