The roar of the waterfall filled the night, its endless rush drowning even the whisper of the forest. Mist drifted into the clearing, clinging to the air like ghostly breath. Beneath the curtain of falling water, Luo Tian sat cross-legged upon a slick boulder, his eyes closed, his body trembling with exhaustion.
The battle in the gorge had taken more from him than he wanted to admit. His silver and crimson threads were still unstable, vibrating faintly like the strings of a wounded instrument. The taste of blood lingered on his tongue, but his eyes burned with unyielding light.
Ling Xi knelt nearby, preparing herbs over a small flame. Her fingers worked quickly, but her gaze strayed to Luo Tian every few breaths, her heart tight with worry. His chest rose and fell in shallow waves, and yet he refused to rest.
"You should stop, Tian ge," she murmured, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. "Every time you push, you're forcing your body and soul beyond their limits. What if one day it simply… shatters?"
Luo Tian's lips curved faintly, though he did not open his eyes. "If I stop, Xi'er, I'll shatter anyway. The sect isn't waiting for me to heal. They're tightening the noose as we speak."
Ling Xi bit her lip. She knew his words were true, but still, her chest ached with helpless fear.
From the shadows at the edge of the clearing, Mei Yue leaned against a tree trunk, her arms folded. Her black eyes reflected the waterfall's silver glow, unreadable, yet piercing.
"He's right," she said softly, though her tone carried no comfort. "The weak wait for mercy and die. The strong claw their way upward. That is the only truth of cultivation."
Ling Xi flinched at the coldness of her words. "Even so… must strength always come at the cost of burning yourself alive?"
Mei Yue tilted her head, studying Luo Tian's trembling form. "Sometimes the brightest flames are also the briefest. The question is whether he will blaze long enough to scorch Heaven itself before he's consumed."
Her voice dropped to a murmur, meant more for herself than anyone else. "And somehow… I think he just might."
The waterfall's weight pressed upon Luo Tian like the hand of Heaven. Each droplet struck him like a needle, stabbing into his skin, his flesh, his bones. The world above wanted to crush him flat, to remind him that he was nothing but a stray dog gnawing at fate.
He welcomed it.
Threads pulsed within him—silver, sharp and unyielding; crimson, warm and stubborn. They coiled and writhed, half-harmonized, half-clashing, demanding order.
Until now, he had only used them like raw weapons: whips, cords, shields in desperation. That wouldn't be enough. Not against the hunters. Not against Wei Chen.
If Heaven weaves, then so can I.
He inhaled slowly, drawing his qi through battered meridians, guiding it into the twin threads. His consciousness stretched, touching the edges of the invisible loom that bound the world.
The silver strand quivered in his grasp. He pulled. Pain lanced through his soul, but he held steady, condensing it tighter, sharper. The strand flattened, gleamed, and for the first time, it did not dissipate. It lengthened into a blade of light, its edge humming with power.
His eyes snapped open. The blade shimmered in his palm, fragile yet real.
"Silken Edge Slash," he whispered, and with a flick of his wrist, the blade cut into the waterfall.
Water exploded outward, splitting for a breath before collapsing again.
Ling Xi gasped, covering her mouth. Even Mei Yue's cold gaze flickered with surprise.
But Luo Tian was not finished.
His chest burned as he reached for the crimson thread. It resisted him more violently, thrashing like a beast refusing a leash. His vision blurred, his bones screamed, but he refused to yield.
"You are me," he growled through clenched teeth. "You will bend."
The crimson thread pulsed wildly, then coiled, tightening around his arm. It wrapped in spirals, forming a cord of resilience that hummed with stubborn defiance. He thrust his hand forward, and the cord lashed out, striking a boulder on the riverbank.
The rock shuddered, cracks spreading like veins, before shattering into fragments.
"Crimson Bind," Luo Tian panted. "Not just defense… disruption."
He collapsed briefly onto one knee, his breath ragged. But his eyes blazed with fire.
One more.
The silver and crimson threads pulsed together. Slowly, painstakingly, he drew them both outward, weaving them over and under each other, strands fusing into a cocoon that pulsed with protective light.
The cocoon thickened, wrapping around his body. The waterfall crashed down upon it, but the shield held, dispersing the force like rain upon silk.
Luo Tian laughed, a raw sound, torn from his throat. "Weaving Cocoon Guard!"
The cocoon dissolved, its threads retreating into his chest. His aura surged, flooding outward in waves. His meridians glowed faintly, his qi circulating with newfound steadiness. The silver and crimson threads pulsed in harmony, no longer flickering in chaos but thrumming with power.
The waterfall stilled for a heartbeat, as though the world itself acknowledged his advance.
Ling Xi felt it first—the swell of his presence, the shift in the air. She stumbled back, her eyes wide.
"Tian ge… your aura… it's different. Stronger."
Mei Yue straightened, her expression unreadable, though her eyes glimmered faintly. "He's done it. He's stabilized his weaving. He's broken through."
Luo Tian opened his eyes. Silver and crimson light blazed in his irises, reflecting the waterfall's glow. His chest rose with steady breaths, his body no longer trembling but firm, unyielding.
"I've stepped forward," he said simply. "Thread Initiate Realm—Middle Stage."
Ling Xi rushed forward, tears glistening in her eyes. She threw her arms around him, ignoring the damp sweat and blood. "You're insane. You're reckless. But… you did it. You really did it."
Luo Tian stiffened briefly at her warmth, then allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. "I told you, Xi'er. I refuse to break."
Mei Yue's gaze lingered on him, her lips curving in the faintest, sharpest of smiles. "Most cultivators spend years crafting one technique. You've forged three in a single night. Either you'll die young…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "…or Heaven itself will fear you."
Luo Tian met her gaze, unflinching. "Then let Heaven tremble."
Far away, Wei Chen stood upon a cliff, his arms folded, crimson cloak snapping in the wind. He paused, his head tilting as a faint ripple tugged at his scarlet threads.
A breakthrough.
His lips curved into a cruel smile.
"Good. Grow stronger, Luo Tian. Struggle harder. The louder you roar, the sweeter it will sound when I cut your throat."
The scarlet threads pulsed, spreading across the land like veins of blood.
And in the wilderness, Luo Tian raised his head, eyes burning, his threads blazing brighter than ever.
The path forward was still drenched in blood and shadow, but for the first time, he held the blades to carve it himself.