The forest was quiet again, though the silence felt fragile, as though the world itself held its breath. The echoes of clashing steel and fleeing footsteps had faded, but the tension in Luo Tian's chest lingered.
He sat by a small fire, its flames reflecting in his sharp eyes. Ling Xi busied herself tending his wounds, her hands deft and gentle, though her lips pressed in a worried line.
"Tian ge," she murmured, "how long can we survive like this? Today it was Twilight Serpent disciples. Tomorrow… it could be a Core Elder himself."
Luo Tian gazed into the flames, the silver thread within his chest pulsing faintly. "I don't intend to merely survive, Xi'er. I intend to carve out a path so great that even the heavens themselves must make room."
His words sounded impossibly bold, but the conviction in his tone made Ling Xi's heart steady. She nodded, choosing once more to trust him, as she always had.
---
When the fire dimmed to glowing embers, Luo Tian began to meditate. The broken fragments of his soul threads resonated in his chest, and the First Thread pulsed stronger than before.
But a single thread, no matter how strong, was still fragile against the tapestry of the world. He needed more.
He closed his eyes, sinking deeper.
Threads are not merely weapons… he recalled the assassin Mei Yue's words, the glint of black silk unfurling from her wrist. They are truths, embodiments of the loom.
Then a thought struck him: If a thread can cut, why can it not create?
He guided his qi, weaving the First Thread between his fingers. Slowly, carefully, he shaped it. The silver strand resisted at first, wavering, threatening to snap. Pain lanced through his chest, but he persisted.
A flicker of light coalesced. The thread tightened, folded, wove.
When his eyes opened, a faint shimmer rested in his palm — a blade of silver silk, fragile and translucent like a dream.
Ling Xi gasped softly. "Tian ge… is that…?"
Luo Tian smiled faintly, sweat dripping down his brow. "A threadwoven weapon. Weak for now, but proof that my path is not bound to destruction alone. If others weave lives into fate, then I will weave weapons, tools, and even worlds."
---
The following days passed in relentless training.
Every dawn, Luo Tian wove his threads into new shapes — blades, shields, even a bow of faint silver light. At first, they crumbled within moments, vanishing like smoke. But slowly, steadily, they endured longer.
Ling Xi practiced alongside him, her qi harmonizing with his. Though she could not command threads as he did, her healing arts stabilized his foundation. Together, they moved like needle and silk — inseparable.
---
Yet even as he grew stronger, a shadow lingered.
From the treeline, unseen eyes watched. Mei Yue, the assassin who had once sought his life, crouched among the branches, her black threads coiling lazily around her fingers.
She had been ordered to kill him. Her oath as a deathweaver demanded it. Yet something about him unsettled her.
He cut my thread, she thought, her abyssal eyes narrowing. No one should have been able to. And yet…
Her gaze lingered on the fragile silver blade in his palm. He weaves as though destiny itself bends before him. If he continues… he may truly become a threat to the Loom.
She should have ended him already, while his power was still budding. But each time her fingers twitched, each time her threads stirred to strike, she hesitated.
For reasons she refused to name.
---
One evening, as the crimson sun dipped below the horizon, Ling Xi spotted a faint glimmer in the sky. She pointed. "Tian ge, look."
Above them, faint silken lines shimmered, connecting the stars in a lattice that stretched across the heavens.
Luo Tian's breath caught. "So it's true… the world itself is a tapestry. Each star, each soul, each moment — all bound by threads."
He extended his hand. His silver strand pulsed, resonating with the cosmic loom above. For an instant, he felt himself stretch beyond his body, touching something vast and eternal.
But the moment snapped, and pain lanced through him, forcing him to stagger back.
Ling Xi caught him, her face pale. "You can't force it. Not yet."
Luo Tian nodded, though his eyes still burned. "One day, Xi'er. I'll weave not only threads of men, but the very stars themselves."
---
That night, Mei Yue finally moved.
She stepped from the shadows, her cloak whispering like midnight silk. The firelight flickered across her cold face as Luo Tian rose, summoning his silver blade instinctively.
"Assassin," he said evenly. "You've returned."
Ling Xi tensed, placing herself by his side.
Mei Yue's gaze swept over them, her expression unreadable. "You've grown stronger. Too quickly. The sect was right to fear you."
Her black threads unfurled, writhing like serpents. But she did not strike. Instead, she tilted her head, curiosity glinting faintly in her abyssal eyes.
"Tell me, Luo Tian," she said softly. "What is it you truly seek? Power? Revenge? Or are you simply clawing at threads you cannot hope to hold?"
Luo Tian's silver threads burned brighter, coiling protectively around Ling Xi. "I seek freedom. No weaver, no sect, no fate shall dictate the tapestry of my life. Not even death itself."
For the first time, Mei Yue's lips curved into the faintest smile — a dangerous, amused smile.
"Then show me," she whispered, her black threads coiling in challenge. "Show me that you can weave destiny itself into submission."
---
The duel ignited.
Silver and black threads clashed in a storm, sparks hissing like lightning as life and death collided once more. Luo Tian's silver blade met Mei Yue's midnight strands, each strike shaking the trees around them.
Ling Xi could only watch, her heart pounding, as the fire cast monstrous shadows of the two combatants. Luo Tian fought with desperation and raw will, his blade unraveling and reforging with every strike. Mei Yue danced like a phantom, her black threads slashing with merciless precision.
Yet as the battle raged, Mei Yue's strikes slowed. Her threads curved away from his vital points, grazing instead of killing.
Why? she asked herself, her own hesitation gnawing at her. Why do I not finish him?
Luo Tian, though battered and bleeding, met her gaze with unyielding fire. "Even if you kill me tonight, another will rise. You cannot sever eternity."
Something cracked in Mei Yue's chest. For the first time in years, her deathbound heart trembled.
She withdrew her threads suddenly, leaping back into the shadows.
Luo Tian staggered, panting heavily. "Why stop? You had me."
Mei Yue's eyes glimmered in the dark. "Because I wish to see how far you can climb. If you fall, I will cut your thread myself. But if you rise…" Her smile returned, sharp and enigmatic. "…then perhaps I will weave beside you."
And with that, she vanished into the night.
---
Luo Tian sank to his knees, the silver thread in his chest flickering wildly. Ling Xi rushed to him, tears streaming down her face as she cradled him.
"Tian ge! You can't keep fighting like this—you'll destroy yourself!"
But Luo Tian only laughed, bitter and triumphant. "No, Xi'er. Don't you see? Even death hesitates before me now."
He looked toward the stars, his silver thread pulsing in rhythm with their light. The path ahead was steep, fraught with enemies and betrayals. But in that moment, he felt certainty burn within him:
This was only the beginning.