The valley lay shrouded in twilight, the aftershocks of battle still humming through its soil. Broken trees leaned against one another like wounded soldiers, and the air smelled faintly of burnt silk — the remnants of clashing fate threads.
Luo Tian sat cross-legged once more, but this time his body trembled with exhaustion. Blood streaked his lips, and the glow of silver-green threads in his chest had dimmed to faint embers.
Yet within the pain, he felt something new. Something alive.
The assassin Mei Yue had cut deep into his soul, forcing him to awaken. Ling Xi's intervention had saved him from collapse, her essence stitching his broken strands into a fragile harmony. But beyond survival, Luo Tian had glimpsed the truth: life and death were not opposites, but interwoven forces.
His destiny had not been severed. It had only begun.
---
Ling Xi knelt beside him, carefully feeding him a decoction brewed from the herbs she'd gathered earlier. Her slender fingers supported his jaw, her expression a mixture of relief and fear.
"You shouldn't speak," she whispered. "Your soul threads are still unstable. You need rest."
But Luo Tian's eyes burned with determination. "No, Xi'er. Rest would mean wasting this chance. When death stood before me, I glimpsed the loom. I saw the path I must walk."
Ling Xi frowned, tears welling in her eyes. "Is the path so cruel that even death itself must be woven into it?"
Luo Tian closed his eyes. "If I am to defy destiny, I cannot reject any thread — not life, not death, not even sorrow. Everything must be woven into the tapestry. Only then will it be mine."
---
He drew a slow breath, and for the first time since his exile, he sank into cultivation.
The world around him shifted. The breeze carried with it faint whispers, like the murmur of unseen weavers. The stars overhead glimmered brighter, each one connected by strands of invisible silk.
Within his chest, the fractured core of his soul pulsed. Faint silver-green threads stretched outward, struggling to bind themselves. He focused, guiding them with willpower alone.
Threads are the veins of destiny, his master's voice echoed from memory. But to grasp them is to risk being cut. Do you still dare?
"Yes," Luo Tian whispered into the silence of his mind. "Even if every thread slices me apart, I will weave them until eternity bows."
---
Pain surged through him as the first thread resisted. It coiled like a serpent, sharp and unyielding, threatening to unravel into nothing. His vision blurred, blood spilling anew from his nose.
Ling Xi gasped. "Tian ge, stop! You'll—"
But then, she hesitated. Her heart clenched as she saw the faint light within his chest stabilizing. The wild strand slowly calmed, resonating with a rhythm that mirrored his heartbeat.
The broken cord aligned. It shone faintly, no longer a fragment of chaos, but the first completed thread of his own making.
---
Hours passed. Dawn's light crept into the valley once more. Luo Tian finally opened his eyes, his breathing steady, his aura transformed.
Ling Xi stared at him, wide-eyed. "You… you did it."
Luo Tian looked down at his palm. Silver light flickered faintly, not chaotic but harmonious. "Yes. I have bound the First Thread. From this day, I am no longer merely a fallen heir of the Loom. I stand at the beginning of the Thread Initiate Realm."
A faint smile crossed Ling Xi's lips, though tears still clung to her lashes. "I was so afraid… but you really are different from anyone else, Tian ge. Perhaps even destiny cannot contain you."
---
But their moment of calm was brief.
A rustle echoed from the treeline. Luo Tian tensed, summoning his newly stabilized thread. But instead of the assassin's return, a group of figures in sect robes emerged.
Their insignia was unmistakable — the Twilight Serpent Sect, a minor branch notorious for its cruelty.
The leader, a young man with arrogant eyes, sneered as his gaze fell upon Luo Tian. "So it's true. The exile hides here like a wounded dog."
Ling Xi stiffened. "You—how did you find us?"
The young man smirked. "The elders spread word of your banishment. The sect's disciples now treat you as prey. Whoever brings back your head gains a reward. A fine opportunity, don't you think?"
His followers laughed cruelly, drawing their blades.
Luo Tian rose, his body aching but his spirit blazing. He stepped forward, shielding Ling Xi with his presence. "If you wish to test me, then come. But know this—" His voice cut like steel. "I am no longer bound by your petty looms. My threads are my own."
---
The battle erupted.
Blades glinted in the dawn as the sect disciples rushed forward. Luo Tian extended his hand, silver thread unraveling from his chest like a whip. It lashed across the air, slicing through steel as though it were paper.
A disciple cried out, his sword cleaved in half. Another staggered back, clutching a bleeding arm where the silver cord had grazed him.
The leader's arrogance faltered. "You… you've already advanced?"
Luo Tian's eyes burned. "Step forward again, and I will cut not only your weapons, but your threads of life."
Fear rippled through the group. The young leader cursed, signaling retreat. "Fall back! This isn't worth our lives!"
The disciples fled into the forest, leaving only silence and the stench of fear.
---
Ling Xi exhaled shakily, collapsing to her knees. "Tian ge… you scared them off."
Luo Tian's gaze lingered on the treeline. "No. They'll return with stronger allies. The elders will not let me grow unchecked. That assassin was only the beginning."
He turned to her, his expression solemn. "Xi'er, from today forward, every step we take will be against the current of heaven. If you walk beside me, the world will treat you as an enemy too."
Her answer was immediate, her voice firm despite the tremor in her frame. "Then let it be so. I would rather weave a single thread with you against heaven than a thousand threads without you."
Luo Tian's heart trembled, the bond between them glowing brighter.
---
That night, as the stars stretched endlessly overhead, Luo Tian meditated once more. The first thread hummed within him, steady and strong. Yet beyond it, countless others awaited — fragile, dangerous, and full of promise.
He thought of Mei Yue, the assassin bound to death. Of the elders who feared his potential. Of the tapestry of fate that loomed overhead, vast and unyielding.
And he whispered to the silent sky:
"Let them come. Let destiny itself descend. I will weave until eternity trembles.