Five years passed as swiftly as arrows.
Chen Feng grew from boy to youth, his body forged by relentless training. His once wiry frame now carried the strength of tempered steel his eyes, once wide with wonder, had narrowed with resolve. He bore the discipline of Li Heng, the ferocity of Guo Tian, the patience of Wu Zhen, the cunning of Zhou Ke, and a spark of each Brother's gift.
Yet even as he learned, the flame within him never dimmed. It roared brighter with each season, a constant reminder of the path that had been thrust upon him.
At seventeen, he returned to Yun Valley for the first time since he left. He longed to see his mother, to show her he had grown, to prove that her boy had become strong enough to protect what she had once feared to lose.
But destiny is cruel.
The valley was quiet when he arrived, too quiet. Smoke drifted faintly from the rooftops, not from cooking fires, but from ruin. Chickens lay scattered, their coops shattered. The fields, once lush, were trampled, their stalks broken under armored boots.
Fear prickled Chen Feng's skin. He broke into a run.
When he reached his home, the door was half-open. The mat lay overturned, as if there had been struggle. He rushed inside.
There, upon the floor, lay Lady Chen.
Blood stained her robe, seeping slowly into the earth. Her breathing was shallow, ragged. Yet when she saw him, her lips curved into the faintest smile.
"Feng'er…"
The wooden sword he had once carried clattered from his grasp. He fell to his knees, clutching her hand. "Mother! No no, please! Who did this? Who hurt you?"
Her voice was weak, a trembling whisper. "The Lotus… Crimson Lotus… they found me."
Rage blazed in Chen Feng's chest. His teeth ground. "I'll kill them. I'll hunt them all down, every last one"
But her hand gripped his with surprising strength. Her eyes, dimming, flared with desperate clarity.
"No! Listen to me… my son. Do not… waste your soul on revenge."
Tears blurred his sight. "But Mother"
Her breath hitched, blood flecking her lips. "They are pawns. Behind them… lies power beyond… what even the Brothers can face. You must… live. Hide who you are. Seek your path. Promise me, Feng'er… promise me you will not burn your life away for hatred."
He shook his head violently, tears streaming. "I can't! How can I live while they've taken you from me?"
Her fingers trembled against his cheek, tender even in death's shadow. "Because you are my son… and because the world… will need you whole. Swear it… to me."
His chest shattered under the weight of her words. His voice broke like glass. "I swear… but I swear also I will find the truth. I will not rest until I know the face of the hand that moved the Lotus against us."
She smiled faintly, relief softening her features. Her eyes closed. Her hand slipped from his.
"Mother!" Chen Feng's cry tore through the valley, raw and agonized, echoing off the ruined fields. He shook her, begged her, shouted until his throat was blood.
But she did not wake.
The sky darkened though the sun had not yet set. Clouds gathered, swirling unnaturally, and from behind them, the moon rose early vast and crimson, bleeding its light across the earth.
The villagers cowered in their homes, whispering of omens, of curses. But Chen Feng did not see them. He saw only the blood on his hands, his mother's still face, and the red moon burning above like Heaven's cruel eye.
"Why?" he shouted at the sky. "Why her? Why not me?!"
His voice cracked, and at last he fell forward, clutching his mother's body, sobbing until his strength was gone.
Far away, the Nine Brothers felt it.
Wu Zhen, meditating atop a mountain temple, gasped as a ripple of anguish pierced his heart. Guo Tian stopped mid punch in the training yard, his fist shaking. Zhou Ke dropped his dice, eyes narrowing. Even stoic Li Heng gripped his sword tighter, sensing the fracture in their bond.
"The boy," Li Heng said grimly. "Something has happened."
Without hesitation, they set out, shadows leaping across rivers and ridges, racing to Yun Valley.
But danger moved quicker.
From the forest's edge, figures emerged cloaked, masked, blades glinting red beneath the crimson moon. The Crimson Lotus had not yet finished their work. Their captain, a tall man with eyes like embers, gestured to Chen Feng's house.
"The fire child returns. End it here."
Chen Feng heard the footsteps before he saw them. He lifted his head, eyes raw with grief, vision blurred by tears. Figures approached through the crimson haze, their blades whispering hunger.
His body screamed with exhaustion, but the fire in his blood surged, wild and desperate. Slowly, he laid his mother's body down, brushed her hair tenderly from her face, and rose.
He picked up his sword.
Not the wooden one of his boyhood, but the steel he now carried a blade tempered in the fires of training, though still untested by true war.
He faced the assassins, his voice hoarse but steady.
"You came for me. Then come. But you will not touch her again."
The assassins spread, circling him. The red moon gleamed on their steel.
Chen Feng's stance wavered with grief and fatigue, but in his eyes burned something that made even hardened killers hesitate a flame that no sorrow could quench.
The first assassin lunged. Chen Feng's blade met his with a ringing clash. His arms trembled, but he held. A second came from the side; he twisted, parried, struck back. Sparks flew.
They pressed him, three, four at once. Steel nicked his shoulder, tore his sleeve, but he moved with raw fury, his blade an arc of fire under the crimson glow.
Still, they were many, and he was one. His breath grew ragged, his strength waned. A blade pierced his side shallow, but burning. He staggered.
The captain raised his hand for the killing blow.
And then the river roared.
"Enough!"
The Nine Brothers stormed the square like thunder made flesh. Guo Tian's fists broke bones with every strike. Wu Zhen's staff spun, knocking assassins aside like reeds. Zhou Ke's daggers flashed, Luo Yan's blade dripped scarlet, Liu Jian's spear swept soldiers like chaff.
Li Heng faced the captain once more. "You dare strike at him beneath Heaven's eye? Tonight you pay in blood."
The clash was titanic. Steel rang, sparks flew, the red moon burning above them as if Heaven itself watched.
Chen Feng, gasping, clutching his bleeding side, fell to his knees beside his mother once more. His tears fell onto her still hands, even as battle raged around him.
"Mother…" he whispered. "I promised. I'll live. But I swear… I'll uncover the truth. Whoever you feared… whoever moves these pawns… I will find them."
The red moon's light deepened, and in that crimson glow, the boy of thirteen was gone. In his place stood a young man tempered by grief, fury, and oath.
The Tenth Brother.
And so the night of the red moon marked the beginning of chaos.
Steel clashed like thunder beneath the crimson glow.
The Nine Brothers fought as one, their movements flowing like the currents of a single river. Guo Tian struck with fists like iron mountains, every blow crumpling armor. Liu Jian's spear whirled, sweeping assassins into the dirt. Zhou Ke danced like smoke, blades flickering in and out of shadows, each strike finding a gap in their foes' defenses.
Wu Zhen moved in great arcs, his staff humming with temple chants, the sound of sutras rising above screams. Luo Yan was silent, his cold blade ending lives with precision, his face unreadable as the red moon glared down.
And Li Heng faced the captain again. Their swords collided with sparks that lit the square like lightning. The captain fought with a savagery sharpened by hatred, his crimson blade weaving arcs of flame. Li Heng, unshaken, countered with exact precision, each strike measured, his breath as steady as stone.
The clash of their duel sent shockwaves through the night.
Chen Feng staggered to his feet, clutching his bleeding side. His sword trembled in his hand, his eyes burning with grief and fury.
"I won't let them escape!" he shouted, stepping forward.
Zhou Ke intercepted him with a grin that did not reach his eyes. "Whoa there, chick. You'll just get your feathers plucked."
"Let me fight!" Chen Feng roared, tears blurring his vision. "They killed her! They killed my mother!"
Zhou Ke's smile softened for a moment. "I know, boy. I know. But rushing blind will only join her."
Wu Zhen appeared, planting his staff before Chen Feng like a wall. His eyes glowed with quiet sorrow. "Grief is fire, chil but fire uncontrolled consumes all. Do not waste her last wish by feeding hatred tonight."
Chen Feng's chest heaved. He wanted to strike, to throw himself into the blood, but Wu Zhen's words pierced him. Do not waste your soul on revenge… His mother's last plea echoed, chains around his heart.
He fell to his knees, sobbing as the battle raged.
The assassins began to falter. Against the Brothers' unity, their numbers dwindled. One after another fell, their bodies littering the square. The captain snarled behind his mask, his crimson blade dripping.
"You cannot protect him forever. The fire is ours. When the Red Moon rises again, you will see."
With a sudden slash that threw sparks into Li Heng's eyes, he leapt back, hurling a crimson talisman into the earth. Smoke erupted, thick and choking. When it cleared, he and his surviving men were gone, leaving only silence and corpses behind.
The Brothers lowered their weapons slowly.
Guo Tian spat into the dirt. "Cowards."
Luo Yan wiped his blade clean with practiced calm. "No. Not cowards. Hunters. They will return."
Li Heng sheathed his sword, his face grim. His gaze fell on Chen Feng, kneeling beside his mother's body, tears streaking his face.
The sight hardened the iron of his heart. "The boy's childhood is over."
They gave Lady Chen a burial at dawn. The villagers, cowed by fear and grief, gathered in silence. The Brothers themselves lowered her body into the earth, Wu Zhen chanting sutras that seemed to shake the heavens.
Chen Feng knelt until his knees bled, his head bowed, his fists clenched in the dirt. He did not weep this time. His tears had been spent, leaving only the hollow ache of loss and the burning brand of memory.
When the last stone was placed upon her grave, he whispered, so soft only the Brothers heard:
"I promise, Mother. I will live. I will hide when I must. But I will also find the truth. I will not stop until I know whose hand moved the Lotus against us. Even if it takes my life."
The red moon, lingering faintly in the dawn sky, seemed to pulse at his vow.
That night, the Brothers sat around the fire outside the village. Chen Feng sat apart, sharpening his blade though it was already keen. His movements were harsh, unpracticed, filled with restless anger.
The Brothers spoke in low tones.
"The fire in him grows," Wu Zhen said softly. "If it is not tempered, it will consume him."
Guo Tian grunted. "Then we temper it with blood and steel. He trains harder, fights sooner. That will burn out his grief."
Zhou Ke shook his head. "Or deepen it. That kind of wound doesn't close by throwing him into more battles."
Luo Yan's cold voice cut through. "The Lotus will not wait for him to heal. He must be sharpened quickly, or he will be broken."
Li Heng remained silent for a long time. His eyes never left Chen Feng's back. Finally he said, "We cannot choose his path. We can only forge his strength. The rest… belongs to Heaven and his own will."
Later, when the fire dimmed, Li Heng rose and walked to Chen Feng. The boy was still at his blade, eyes shadowed.
"You wish revenge," Li Heng said quietly.
Chen Feng's jaw tightened. "Yes."
"Your mother's last wish forbade it."
His hand stilled. His voice was raw. "I don't care. I can't let them live."
Li Heng knelt, his gaze sharp as steel. "You must care. Because if you walk only for vengeance, you will die, and her death will mean nothing. But if you walk for truth… if you seek the hand behind the Lotus, then you may yet fulfill her will. Which path will you choose?"
Chen Feng's breath shook. The fire in him roared, but Li Heng's words struck true. At last he whispered, "Then I will seek the truth. But if vengeance comes with it… I will not turn away."
Li Heng's expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "Then we will make you ready."
From that night onward, training changed.
No longer was Chen Feng a boy struggling to follow the Brothers' lessons. Now he trained with the fury of a man who had lost everything.
Guo Tian hammered his body until his fists split and healed harder than stone. Wu Zhen taught him to breathe through fire, to still his heart when grief threatened to consume him. Zhou Ke taught him to vanish into shadow, to smile even when death hunted his heels. Luo Yan taught him silence the art of killing thought itself before killing the foe.
Feng Wuyue strung his bow and made him listen to the wind until he could loose an arrow into the heart of a bird on the wing. Liu Jian swept his spear until Chen Feng's arms trembled and bled, then taught him to strike in circles, never breaking rhythm. Zhao Ming filled his hands with scrolls, forcing him to study strategy, maps, the movements of armies. Shen Kuan gave him bitter draughts to harden his body, herbs that tore him apart before remaking him.
And Li Heng watched it all, his sword always near, his eyes never leaving the boy who had become their brother.
The red moon had set, but its omen lingered. The world was shifting.
Chaos stirred in kingdoms beyond Yun Valley. Rumors spread of wars brewing in the north, rebellions in the west, famine in the south. The Lotus grew bold, their shadow stretching across provinces.
And in the heart of it, a seventeen-year-old with fire in his blood trained harder than any man alive not just for vengeance, not just for grief, but for the promise he had made at his mother's grave: to find the truth that lay hidden beyond the Lotus' blades.
The days that followed Lady Chen's burial were heavy with silence. Though the villagers offered rice and fruit at her grave, fear kept their words hushed. Few dared approach Chen Feng, for grief and fire clung to him like a shroud.
The Brothers stayed in the valley, warding off lingering assassins and training Chen Feng beneath the shade of Yun Mountain. Morning to night, he was broken and rebuilt: fists bloodied on Guo Tian's iron palms, lungs burning beneath Wu Zhen's meditations, arms trembling from Liu Jian's endless spear drills. When he collapsed, Shen Kuan's bitter tonics dragged him back to his feet.
And always, above them, the red moon lingered pale now in daylight, but never forgotten. The people whispered of omens, of disasters to come, of Heaven's wrath stirred.
One night, a week after the burial, the Brothers gathered upon the ridge overlooking the valley. Chen Feng had been sent to meditate by the riverside, his back straight though exhaustion bent his spirit.
Li Heng spoke first. "The boy's spirit is strong, but strength alone will not shield him. The Lotus will not rest. His mother's death was only the beginning."
Luo Yan's voice was colder than the mountain wind. "Then perhaps we cut the root, before it spreads further."
"No," Wu Zhen countered. "The Crimson Lotus Sect is no mere weed. Its root lies deep beneath centuries. We strike blindly, we only feed it blood."
Zhou Ke gave a humorless laugh. "So what, we keep dragging the boy from fire to fire until he burns himself out? He's not made of steel."
Guo Tian grunted. "Then we forge him until he is."
A silence fell, broken only by the river's distant roar.
Finally, Feng Wuyue spoke, his voice soft but firm. "We have sworn to walk as brothers. That oath binds him as much as it binds us. His fire is dangerous, yes… but it is also needed. We cannot shield him forever. One day, his strength will shield us."
Li Heng's gaze lingered on the river where Chen Feng sat, still as stone. At last he nodded. "Then it is decided. He will walk our path fully. The Tenth Brother must rise."
The following dawn, Chen Feng was summoned to the ridge. He climbed the steps with sore limbs, sweat stinging his eyes, but his back straightened when he saw the circle of the Nine Brothers waiting.
Li Heng stood in the center, his sword drawn and point planted into the earth.
"Chen Feng," he said, his voice steady, "you have suffered loss. You have tasted blood. Yet still you stand. Do you wish to walk with us to share our oath beneath Heaven, to carry both our burdens and our battles?"
Chen Feng's chest tightened. The image of his mother's grave burned in his mind. Slowly, he knelt. "Yes. With all I am, I swear."
The Brothers exchanged glances. One by one, they drew their weapons fist, staff, bow, spear, dagger, hammer, fan, vial, blade and planted them in the earth around him, forming a circle of steel and will.
Wu Zhen intoned: "We are not bound by blood, yet we are brothers beneath Heaven."
Guo Tian rumbled: "We live and fight as one."
Luo Yan's cold voice followed: "If one falls, all remember. If one rises, all honor."
Zhou Ke's grin flashed. "If one steals wine, all drink."
Even Li Heng's lips twitched faintly before he spoke, his tone solemn. "We are Ten. Bound by oath, bound by fate. Chen Feng, from this day, you are our youngest brother."
The air seemed to shift. The red moon, though hidden by daylight, weighed heavy in their hearts.
Chen Feng pressed his forehead to the earth, tears mingling with dust. "Brothers… I will not fail you."
That night, dreams came to Chen Feng.
He stood in a vast plain under the red moon, the earth cracked and scorched. Figures moved in the distance armies clashing, flames rising, shadows with crimson eyes whispering his name.
At the center of it all stood a throne of black stone. Upon it, a figure cloaked in darkness, a crown of fire upon his brow. His voice was not human, yet it burned through Chen Feng's bones:
The fire belongs to me. You cannot escape it. You are but the vessel.
Chen Feng screamed, raising his blade but it turned to ash in his hands.
He woke with a start, sweat cold upon his skin. Outside, the red moon glared through thin clouds, watching.
From then on, his training grew harsher. He no longer resisted it. Every cut, every bruise, every exhaustion became fuel. His body changed, lean and hard. His eyes sharpened, his movements grew fluid. Yet inside, the dream gnawed at him. The voice in the throne lingered.
Still, he held his mother's last words close: Keep your identity. Find your path. Do not waste your soul on revenge.
But the world beyond Yun Valley did not sleep.
Whispers of rebellion swept through the provinces. Bandits grew bold, armies clashed, and villages burned. At every turn, the Crimson Lotus Sect's shadow loomed larger.
And always, the omen of the Red Moon returned a scar upon the sky that no priest or scholar could explain.
The Nine Brothers knew what it meant. Chen Feng, their Tenth, bore destiny's mark. Whether he was Heaven's flame of salvation or Hell's fire of ruin, only time would tell.
And so the saga of their brotherhood, once a wandering vow, became a war for the soul of the world.