The moonlight slanted across the jagged peaks, pale and sharp like a blade that had forgotten mercy. Mo Lianyin stood at the edge of a precipice, his robes torn, his chest heaving with the weight of everything that had come before. His fingers dripped blood, not from wounds alone, but from the ritual circle carved into his own skin. Each line pulsed faintly, carrying the memory of the forbidden art he had dared to awaken.
He could still hear the words of the Seven Arts echoing in his mind, each syllable like a chain linking him to eternity: Sacrifice. Severance. Shadow. Silence. Sin. Sovereignty. Soul.
The air shifted. Behind him, the shadows of those he had slain stirred restlessly—wraiths bound by his blood oath. Their whispering voices clawed at his mind, demanding to be released, demanding vengeance.
"Lianyin."
The name carried across the night like a fragile prayer. He turned, slow and deliberate. Standing there was Ning Yuehan, her sword drawn, her eyes burning with sorrow and fury. She looked at him not as an enemy, not as a savior, but as someone who had strayed too far into the abyss.
"You swore you wouldn't walk this path," she said, her voice trembling. "You promised me once, under the autumn leaves at Qinghe Temple, that you'd fight with your heart—not with darkness."
His lips twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "And what has that promise given me, Yuehan? Betrayal. Abandonment. My clan drowned in lies, my heart pierced by those who swore loyalty. The world has no place for vows kept in light. Only shadows understand me now."
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he raised his hand. The wraiths writhed like a storm of serpents, circling above her. The moonlight dimmed, swallowed by the presence of so many bound souls.
But Yuehan didn't flinch. She stepped forward, her blade trembling but steady, her every breath a silent refusal to abandon him.
"Then let me remind you of who you are."
Her words cut sharper than any sword. Memories flickered unbidden across his mind—his younger self, laughing with her by the temple gates; the warmth of a bowl of lotus soup she had brought him during his long training nights; the sound of her voice calling his name when he staggered from a wound, refusing to let him fall.
For one fleeting instant, Mo Lianyin felt the weight of his oath loosen.
But then, like a dagger, another voice struck through the haze.
"Do you intend to betray me too?"
Zevian's voice. Cold. Mocking. Poison wrapped in velvet. From the shadows behind Yuehan, Zevian stepped forth, his silver hair catching the dying moonlight. His smile was beautiful, cruel, and utterly merciless.
"You see, Yuehan," Zevian said smoothly, "no matter how brightly you shine, his heart will always belong to the dark. He and I—we are bound by something you cannot comprehend. A blood oath written in betrayal. He cannot escape me."
Yuehan's eyes widened. "What have you done to him?"
Zevian chuckled, placing a hand over his own heart. "I merely offered him what the world denied—power. Understanding. A place to belong. You, with your blind righteousness, would never accept what he has become."
Mo Lianyin's head bowed, his chest aching as if torn in two. On one side, Yuehan's unwavering light. On the other, Zevian's intoxicating darkness. Both reached for him, both demanded him.
The wraiths wailed louder, feeding on his torment.
"I…" His voice broke. He clenched his fists until blood dripped into the earth, the ritual circle flaring brighter. "I don't know who I am anymore."
Zevian's smile deepened, and he stepped close, whispering into Lianyin's ear like a lover. "Then let me decide for you."
Suddenly, his hand pierced into Lianyin's chest—not flesh, but soul. Pain exploded through every nerve, the kind that no body could endure. Yuehan screamed his name, rushing forward, her blade cutting through the shadows.
But Zevian only tightened his grip, his eyes glowing with hunger. "With this oath, you are mine."
Mo Lianyin staggered, choking on blood, yet somewhere deep inside, his soul trembled not with surrender—but with rebellion.
He remembered his parents' dying eyes, the betrayal of the elders, the laughter of those who crushed his spirit. He remembered standing alone under the moon, vowing to rise even if his bones turned to ash.
And now, bound between light and dark, he realized something terrifyingly clear—he was neither.
He was both.
With a roar that tore the night apart, Mo Lianyin unleashed the Seven Forbidden Arts at once. Shadows and light collided, Yuehan's blade striking Zevian's hand, his wraiths screaming as they were ripped from their tether. The mountain shook, and the moon cracked behind a veil of storm.
Zevian stumbled back, his expression twisted between fury and something like admiration. "So… you dare defy even me."
Yuehan caught Lianyin before he fell, her tears mingling with his blood. "Hold on. Don't you dare leave me."
But his eyes, though heavy, glowed with a clarity they hadn't held in years.
"I am no one's pawn," he whispered, his voice raw but certain. "Not theirs. Not yours. Not even fate's."
And then, darkness swallowed the world.