Rain chased them down the mountain path all night.By dawn the clouds sat heavy over Taiching Sect, pressing the peaks into shadow.Li Yan said nothing. Xu Pingsheng said less.When they reached the outer gate, two grey-robed enforcers were waiting.
"Outer Court Errand Team, report," one said.Li Yan opened his mouth; Pingsheng cut him off. "Lantern anomaly. Resolved."
"Resolved," the man repeated. His eyes flicked to the shards under Pingsheng's sleeve. "By whom?"
Silence stretched. Then: "Elder Qinghe requests both of you. Disciplinary Hall."
The Hall sat halfway up the central cliff, carved straight into stone.Inside, rows of lanterns burned smokeless and still, each holding a thread of pale light that pulsed to a rhythm older than breath.The air smelled of iron and storm.
Elder Qinghe waited near the dais, flanked by three other elders whose robes marked rank more than years.Behind them stood a single monument—black jade etched with a spiral of names: the Heaven's Roll, where the Sect recorded those judged by fate.
Li Yan bowed so low his forehead touched the floor.Pingsheng stayed upright.
"Xu Pingsheng," one elder said. "You touched another Lantern."
"Yes."
"You broke its Thread."
"It was killing a town."
"That is not your concern."
"It is now."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Qinghe's eyes flicked, warning or pride—it was hard to tell.
The eldest of the three leaned forward. "You claim to command Threads. Do you know what that means?"
Pingsheng's hands curled. "That the Lanterns drink life to feed Heaven. That Heaven decides who lives long enough to kneel. That I don't agree."
Thunder growled outside. The Lanterns along the wall trembled, their flames bending toward him.
The elder rose. "Blasphemy."
Chains of light lashed from the dais, thin as spider silk, snapping around his wrists.Cold raced up his arms. His vision fractured—each flame in the hall became a Thread dragging toward the black jade monument.Names glowed faintly upon its face, the last line still wet: Pingsheng Xu — Pending Judgment.
"Do you see it?" the elder asked. "That is where Heaven writes what must be."
Pingsheng lifted his head. He did not pull away; he pulled inward.The Soulwheel behind his heart turned.First one ring, then a second half-formed circle of light locked beside it.
The Threads snapped.The lanterns along the wall burst blue.For one instant the monument's newest line flared and vanished.
Elders staggered back, sleeves shielding their faces.Qinghe alone did not move. His eyes were bright and distant, as if watching prophecy catch fire.
When the air cleared, the chains were gone.Only scorch marks spiraled across the floor where they had touched him.
Pingsheng exhaled. Smoke drifted from his fingertips."I see Heaven's writing," he said softly. "It can be erased."
Silence weighed heavier than the storm.Finally Qinghe spoke. "The Disciplinary Hall finds the anomaly contained."
The eldest elder turned on him. "Contained? He burned the Roll!"
Qinghe bowed slightly. "Then Heaven will write it again when it dares."
The others left in a swirl of robes and thunder.When they were gone, Qinghe faced him.
"You have no idea what you just did," he said.
"I do," Pingsheng answered. "I refused to bow."
Qinghe looked toward the blackened stone."Refusal is easy. Enduring what follows—that is the test.From now on, the Sect will watch every breath you take. And Heaven will too."
He turned, robe whispering."Rest tonight. At dawn, the Inner Council will summon you."
When he left, the hall dimmed.Pingsheng stood alone before the burned monument.Among the ashes where his name had been, a single new mark glowed—no word, only a circle of light, half-closed, turning slow.
He smiled once, without humor.Second Ring: 1 / 10 Stars.
The wheel turned.
— End of Chapter 4 —