The forest smelled of iron.
Luo Tian stumbled through the undergrowth, each step leaving behind a smear of crimson on leaves and soil. His breath rasped in his throat like a broken bellows, and the gashes along his chest wept freely. The moonlight above filtered through the canopy in trembling beams, silver light painting his battered form in a ghostly glow.
Behind him, the silence of fresh graves lingered. Six hunters had fallen, their bodies interred shallowly in the earth with his trembling hands. He hadn't buried them out of respect—he could not respect those who hunted him like a beast—but out of necessity. Corpses drew beasts, and beasts drew attention.
Still, as his knees buckled and his palms pressed against the damp ground, Luo Tian wondered if perhaps he should have left them to rot. After all, wasn't that what they wanted for him?
"You fool," Ling Xi's cold voice pierced the haze in his mind. The silver-haired spirit drifted into sight, her luminous form hovering just before him. "Do you realize what you've done? Forcing synchronization between Life and Resilience Threads? At your stage, it's tantamount to tearing your soul in half."
Luo Tian coughed, crimson splattering across the dirt. His lips curled into a weary grin. "Yet… I'm still alive."
"That is not proof of wisdom. Only proof of your sheer stubbornness." Ling Xi's brows furrowed, her ethereal eyes glowing faintly. "Your mortal frame was not meant to endure such a strain. If not for the Loom's brand suppressing the backlash, you would be nothing but ash right now."
He said nothing, only collapsed backward onto the ground, staring at the swaying branches overhead. The stars peered faintly between them, as though curious at his struggle.
The golden brand upon his chest pulsed once, a faint warmth spreading through his battered flesh. Slowly, it dulled the ache, knitting together ragged edges of torn muscle. It wasn't enough to restore him—not even close—but enough to keep him from slipping fully into death's embrace.
The rhythm of the pulse echoed in his ears, and soon the forest faded into a dream.
In that dream, Luo Tian stood within a boundless void. Threads of gold and silver danced through the darkness, weaving intricate patterns across an endless tapestry. Stars blinked into existence at the crossings of threads, while whole galaxies pulsed like knots.
He reached out, and a thread brushed against his palm. It burned, searing his soul, but within that pain was the whisper of infinity.
Destiny, the thread seemed to murmur. Fragile, yet eternal.
When he turned, he saw them—shadows of figures beyond his comprehension, titans walking upon paths paved by threads, each step resonating like thunder across eternity. One of them paused, glancing toward him with eyes like suns. Luo Tian's heart nearly stopped beneath the weight of that gaze.
And then—
"Wake up."
Luo Tian's eyes snapped open. The void shattered, replaced by the damp scent of soil and the faint crackle of a fire. He blinked, confused, until he realized he was no longer alone.
A familiar figure knelt beside him, grinding herbs with trembling hands. Her dark hair was tied loosely, strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. A simple robe clung to her slender frame, dirt smudges along the hems, and yet she carried a softness that no hardship could erase.
"Mei… Yue?" His voice was hoarse, as if dragged through gravel.
Her hands froze. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. For a moment, disbelief flooded her eyes, as though afraid that speaking would shatter the illusion. Then, in a rush, she dropped the pestle and leaned closer.
"You're alive!" Her words cracked, tears brimming as she pressed a trembling hand against his bloodied arm. "I—I thought you were gone. Everyone said you couldn't survive. That the sect's hounds would—"
She bit her lip, forcing herself to calm. Carefully, she lifted the paste she'd been making and spread it across his wounds. The cool balm stung, but Luo Tian did not flinch. He only watched her, a strange warmth in his chest easing the weight of exhaustion.
"I told you before," he murmured weakly. "I'm not that easy to kill."
Mei Yue sniffed, glaring at him even as tears streaked her cheeks. "Idiot. You nearly bled yourself dry. Look at you—skin pale as snow, breathing like an old man. What part of this is 'not easy to kill'?"
Despite her scolding, her hands were gentle, wrapping his wounds with strips of cloth she must have scavenged. The faint scent of crushed herbs lingered in the air, mixing with the smoky warmth of the fire.
For the first time in weeks, Luo Tian felt… safe.
Unseen by Mei Yue, Ling Xi hovered a short distance away, arms crossed. Her sharp gaze lingered on Mei Yue for a moment before she scoffed softly.
"So this is the girl who tethers your heart," she whispered, unheard by mortal ears. "Pathetic… and yet, perhaps, necessary."
While Mei Yue worked, far away within the sect's grand hall, a survivor knelt before the elders. His face was pale, his voice shaking as he recounted the slaughter in the woods.
"He killed them," the hunter rasped. "Six of them—all dead. He forced the Threads to obey him. Golden light, weaving together life and strength. No… it was something more. It was as if the Loom itself moved through him!"
Gasps rippled through the gathered elders. Whispers rose like storm winds, until the oldest among them raised a hand. His eyes were sharp, gleaming with cold intent.
"The Loom's legacy… has chosen." His words were heavy, pressing upon the hall like a decree. "We cannot allow it to fall into the hands of a stray. If Luo Tian is not claimed, he must be destroyed."
The order spread swiftly. Disciples whispered in the shadows. Hunters prepared their weapons anew. For Luo Tian, the reprieve bought with blood was only the calm before the storm.
Back in the forest, Mei Yue finished tending his wounds. Her hands lingered against his skin, reluctant to pull away.
"You shouldn't fight them alone," she said softly. "You'll die if you keep going like this."
"I won't die," Luo Tian replied, his voice steady despite his weakness. "Not now. Not until I've torn away the chains they've wrapped around us." His eyes, though heavy-lidded, burned with a quiet fire. "We've lived as prey long enough. That ends now."
Mei Yue's throat tightened. She wanted to tell him to rest, to abandon vengeance, to simply survive. But when she looked into his gaze, she saw something unshakable—an iron will that no storm could bend. And though fear twisted in her chest, a part of her… believed him.
So she simply nodded, whispering, "Then I'll stay by your side."
Luo Tian's lips curved faintly, exhaustion finally pulling him back into slumber.
As the fire crackled, Ling Xi materialized beside Mei Yue, unseen. Her gaze lingered on the girl's trembling form as she leaned against Luo Tian's side for warmth.
"You'll suffer for following him," Ling Xi murmured, her voice a breath in the night. "But perhaps suffering is what forges eternity."
Her eyes shifted to the distant horizon, where the faint stirrings of pursuit were already rising.
"The sect will not stop. They will come again, fiercer than before. And when they do… blood will dye the forest once more."
Thus, beneath the stars, Luo Tian rested in fragile peace. His body was broken, but his spirit had never burned brighter. And with Mei Yue's return, the threads of his fate began to weave anew.
The ashes of the hunt were not its end. They were only the beginning.