The blizzard eased by dawn, revealing a washed-out sky streaked with pale gold.
Lianyin and Qingxue walked in silence along the frozen riverbank. Their shadows stretched long and thin across the ice.
The only sound was the brittle crunch of snow underfoot.
---
Qingxue finally broke the quiet. "We need to talk about last night."
"No, we don't," Lianyin replied without looking at her.
"You killed them all, Lianyin. Even the ones who were trying to surrender."
"They were raiders. They would kill again."
"That's not the point—"
"It is the only point." His tone cut like frost.
---
Qingxue's jaw tightened. She wanted to argue, but she could still see the way he'd moved—too fast, too precise, too… empty.
Before she could say more, a low, bone-deep rumble echoed through the air. The ice beneath their feet trembled.
She glanced toward the tree line. "We're not alone."
---
A figure stepped out from between the frostbitten pines—tall, cloaked in ragged furs, a metal mask covering his face. Behind him, six others emerged, their weapons gleaming with frost-qi.
The leader's voice rasped through the mask. "You're the one who carries the Veins of the Abyss."
Lianyin's hand flexed at his side. "Who's asking?"
"Those who will take it from your corpse."
---
The attackers struck first—blades slicing the air, qi surging in freezing arcs.
Lianyin moved to meet them, silver veins blazing. His body felt light, his movements unstoppable.
Too unstoppable.
---
He caught the first attacker by the wrist and twisted. The man screamed as bone shattered. Without thinking, Lianyin's free hand speared forward—not to incapacitate, but to pierce through the man's chest.
Blood steamed on the snow.
Another came from behind; Lianyin spun, striking with enough force to tear the man's head from his shoulders.
---
Somewhere at the edge of his vision, Qingxue shouted, "Lianyin, STOP!"
But her voice barely reached him.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears, a drum of violence. His limbs moved on their own, each strike killing without hesitation.
The last enemy fell, his body crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut.
---
Lianyin stood over the corpses, chest heaving, but there was no satisfaction, no relief—only a gnawing hunger in his veins, urging him to find more.
He looked at his hands. They were shaking. Not from fear… but from restraint.
---
Qingxue approached slowly, eyes wide with a mix of horror and concern.
"That wasn't you," she said softly.
His voice was low, almost a growl. "It was me. And it will be again."
"No… it's the Art. It's changing you."
He laughed, short and sharp. "Maybe I'm just seeing clearly now."
---
Before she could answer, Lianyin's knees buckled. He collapsed into the snow, clutching his head.
Silver light burst from his veins, spiraling upward like ghostly threads. Visions flooded his mind—war, slaughter, rivers of blood under a black moon.
And at the center of it all… a figure with his face, smiling.
---
When the vision faded, Lianyin was on his hands and knees, panting. Qingxue knelt beside him, gripping his shoulders.
"What did you see?"
"Me," he whispered. "The me I'm becoming."
Her voice trembled. "Then we'll find a way to stop it."
He looked up at her, his eyes colder than the snow. "You can't stop what's already inside me."
---
Far away, in the deep halls of the Azure Moon Sect, a messenger knelt before the Grandmaster.
"The boy has awakened the Fifth Forbidden Art," the messenger said. "Its hunger is stirring."
The Grandmaster's gaze turned grave. "Then we must decide… whether to guide him or destroy him."