The golden flare faded as quickly as it had come. One heartbeat, the world was swallowed in brilliance; the next, only the ragged panting of Luo Tian remained, his chest heaving, body trembling from exhaustion. The Loom's brand pulsed faintly on his skin, like a tiny sun imprisoned in his heart, its afterglow seeping through flesh and bone.
The sect hunters staggered back, shielding their eyes from the fading radiance. Their leader, a sharp-faced cultivator with a long scar dragging down his cheek, cursed and spat into the dirt.
"What the hell was that?" he hissed, glaring at Luo Tian with undisguised venom. "This cripple… he carries something the sect should own."
Luo Tian swayed on his feet. His threads trembled, two fragile strands of light — one green, one silver — flickering in the air around him. Life. Resilience. That was all he had. No profound techniques, no polished mastery. Just instinct, desperation, and a burning refusal to fall.
Inside him, Ling Xi's voice quivered. "That flare… it was the Loom's blessing. The brand won't let you die so easily. But it won't save you again, Luo Tian. You need to escape!"
Luo Tian coughed, tasting iron on his tongue. His lips curled into a bitter smile. "Escape? If I run now, I'll always run. No… it ends here."
The hunters regrouped, forming a loose semicircle. There were four of them left, all outer court enforcers clad in gray robes with the insignia of the sect stitched onto their chests. Not true elites, but stronger than the average disciple. Against Luo Tian, half-dead and threadbare, they might as well have been mountains.
The scarred leader sneered. "Listen to him—talking like a hero before the grave. You crawled out of the Loom, cripple, but you won't crawl out of this forest. Kill him. Strip the brand from his corpse."
They lunged.
Luo Tian's vision blurred as blades gleamed under moonlight. He raised his hands, threads unfurling with a shaky hum. The green strand of Life lashed outward, burrowing into the soil, twisting into crude vines that whipped upward to entangle the closest hunter's legs. The man stumbled, cursing, his sword slashing at the bindings.
At the same time, the silver thread of Resilience coiled around Luo Tian's arm, condensing into a translucent shield. The first strike crashed against it with a resounding crack. Pain lanced through his bones as the force nearly shattered him, but the thread held—barely.
"Damn it," Luo Tian growled, digging his heels into the earth. His body screamed, every muscle frayed, yet something inside him refused to yield.
The second hunter struck from behind. Luo Tian twisted, snapping the Life-thread free from the ground and pulling it across like a whip. The strand glowed faintly, slapping against the man's face. It didn't cut, but it startled him, buying Luo Tian another breath.
"You can't keep this up!" Ling Xi cried. "Your threads are crude, unrefined. They weren't meant to be used like this."
"Then I'll force them," Luo Tian spat.
The scarred leader's laughter grated like iron. "Pathetic tricks. You think vines and shields can save you?" His sword lifted, gleaming with a faint aura of power. Unlike the others, his cultivation had already stepped into the later stage of the Mortal Loom realm. His strike could cleave through stone.
Luo Tian's heart pounded. If that blade landed, even his Resilience thread wouldn't protect him.
The hunters pressed closer. One slashed low, another high. Luo Tian ducked, weaving between strikes, his threads snapping back and forth to deflect. His movements were clumsy, his defenses ragged, but he survived.
Until—
"Do you know what became of Mei Yue?" the scarred leader sneered suddenly, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Your precious little junior sister? The sect wants her too. She's being hunted even now. Perhaps she's already screaming for mercy."
The words slammed into Luo Tian harder than any blade.
Mei Yue. Her name was a spark in the darkness, a memory of soft laughter, of eyes filled with stubborn fire. The thought of her being dragged back by these animals, broken and enslaved by the sect's will—something inside Luo Tian snapped.
"No." His voice was hoarse, yet it rang with steel. "No one touches her."
The threads around him blazed. The green of Life pulsed brighter, twining with the silver of Resilience. For a heartbeat, the two strands resonated, their hums overlapping, fusing.
Ling Xi gasped. "They're synchronizing!"
The scarred leader frowned, sensing the shift. "What is this—"
Luo Tian thrust his hand forward. The fused threads erupted in a burst of raw energy, lashing around the neck of the nearest hunter. His eyes bulged as the glowing strands tightened, crushing flesh and bone with merciless force. With a sickening snap, his body went limp, collapsing to the forest floor.
Silence.
The remaining hunters froze, their faces paling. One of their own lay dead, strangled by the very threads they had mocked.
Luo Tian stood over the corpse, chest heaving, his eyes wild yet cold. His hands trembled, not just from exhaustion, but from the weight of what he had done. He had killed before in self-defense against beasts, but this… this was the first human life taken by his hand.
It should have broken him. Instead, a grim calm settled over his heart.
"I told you," Luo Tian said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "If you want my fate, then step forward. But know… I'll drag you into the abyss with me."
The scarred leader's face twisted with fury. "You dare kill one of my men, cripple?! You'll die screaming!"
The remaining hunters exchanged uneasy glances. They had thought this would be simple—an ambush, a quick kill. But this half-dead outcast had slain one of them in front of their eyes, with nothing but two threads and sheer willpower.
For the first time, doubt crept into their hearts.
Luo Tian's threads shimmered faintly around him, dim yet unyielding. Blood dripped from his arm, his body swaying like a candle in the wind. Yet his gaze never faltered.
Inside, Ling Xi whispered softly, almost reverently. "So this is your choice… not to run, but to fight against heaven itself. Perhaps… you are worthy of the brand after all."
The night deepened, the forest silent save for the hiss of blades being drawn once more. Three hunters remained, their faces grim, their leader burning with rage.
And Luo Tian, battered and bloodied, stood ready to face them, threads gleaming like fragile sparks against the vast darkness.
The battle was far from over.
But something had changed.
The prey had bared his fangs.