The candle flames swayed gently within Fang Tian's chamber, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The Silent Flame Fruit was gone—its power now coursing through his blood like wildfire tamed by will.
Fang Tian sat still, his aura thick and electric, rippling through the room like the hum of a drawn blade.
Then—
Crack.
The sound was subtle, but profound.
A golden light burst from his chest, lines of spiritual script unraveling in the air like burning threads. The seal—a complex weave of suppressive talismans and binding energy—shattered like porcelain.
The chains inside him didn't just snap—they sang, like blades being drawn for war.
His body lightened.
His breath flowed smoother.
Power—raw, fierce, unbound—welled up in his core.
He stood slowly, his dark robe fluttering without wind.
Mid-Foundation Rank.
A faint smile touched his lips. "Now," he whispered, "I can begin."
The next morning, as sunlight spilled over the tiled roofs of Greenwind City, Yue Lian stood at the manor gates. She was dressed plainly, a soft sky-blue robe tied at her waist, her hair loosely braided over one shoulder.
When Fang Tian approached, she smiled warmly.
"You're free," she said. "I felt it in the wind. The seal… it's gone."
He nodded. "I found the way."
Yue Lian's gaze softened, yet behind it flickered the faintest uncertainty—how had he done it? She knew better than to ask. She trusted him. Or rather, she needed to.
"I spoke with Father," she said.
Fang Tian raised an eyebrow.
"He's agreed to let you join the inner sect—his personal cultivation circle."
"Ah," Fang Tian murmured. "So the spider invites me deeper into his web."
Yue Lian frowned. "Don't say that. He's strict, but he's done everything for this city. For me."
Fang Tian offered a quiet smile. "Then I shall join. For your sake."
She looked away quickly, hiding the sudden warmth in her cheeks. "Well… good."
She shifted nervously, then added, "Before training begins—just for today—come with me to the market?"
He hesitated, not because he didn't want to, but because he did.
"Of course," he said, voice gentler than usual.
The city market bustled with life. Silk banners waved above colorful stalls, children darted between shoppers, and the smell of roasted chestnuts, spiced buns, and candied plums filled the air.
Yue Lian tugged Fang Tian by the sleeve through the crowd, excitement lighting her features like the morning sun.
"Come on! Look!"
She pointed to a game stall—rings to toss over jade bottles.
Fang Tian raised an eyebrow. "A child's game."
"So beat it," she challenged, crossing her arms.
He smirked, stepped forward, and flicked the ring with casual elegance. It arced through the air and landed perfectly. Then again. And again.
Within minutes, the stall owner was sweating, handing over prize after prize.
A velvet rabbit. A tiny teacup set. A plush tiger. And finally, a large teddy bear with a crooked smile.
Yue Lian laughed, arms full of gifts. "You're not human."
"Correct," Fang Tian said. "I'm efficient."
She rolled her eyes but was smiling. "Now it's your turn to carry them."
He accepted the pile with mock resignation, the bear's round head bobbing above the stack as he followed her through the crowd.
They stopped for sweets, sharing honey-glazed skewers under paper lanterns.
They watched street performers—a fire-breather, a contortionist, a blind man who played the erhu with haunting beauty.
Yue Lian leaned closer. "This is nice."
Fang Tian nodded, but his mind raced—watching movements, counting exits, sensing Qi signatures.
Yet even he couldn't deny: this was nice.
As the sun dipped low and the market began to thin, the two walked along a quieter street lined with peach trees.
Yue Lian cradled the teddy bear in one arm, her free hand brushing lightly against the edge of her robe.
"Fang Tian," she said. "Do you ever wonder what life would be like… if we weren't cultivators? Just two people in a quiet city."
He looked at her, truly looked.
"If I were anyone else," he said, "I wouldn't have met you."
She stopped walking. Her eyes searched his face.
"Sometimes, I feel like you're always holding something back. Like there's a wall between you and the world."
Fang Tian lowered his gaze.
She'd seen the way he watched the world—like it was always slipping through his fingers. But today, he was here. With her.
"Maybe I am," he said. "But not with you."
Her breath caught. She smiled—soft and fragile.
Then—a cry.
A rustle behind them.
They turned.
A little girl, no older than ten, stood in the middle of the road, dressed in tattered robes. In her hands: a wooden toy sword. Painted gold, chipped at the edges.
She looked up at Yue Lian. "Pretty sister," she said shyly. "Can I have your bear?"
Yue Lian bent down, smiling gently. "Of course. Here—"
And then the child moved.
So fast, it blurred.
The toy sword was no toy.
It stabbed forward—silent, precise—piercing Yue Lian's side just beneath the ribs.
Her eyes widened.
The bear fell.
Blood bloomed against her robe.
Fang Tian's eyes flashed gold.
He moved faster than breath, grabbing the girl by the wrist—but she vanished, dissolving into smoke.
Qi dispersed like smoke—Shadow Sect technique. Rare. Forbidden.
Yue Lian gasped, staggering.
Fang Tian caught her before she hit the ground. Her blood soaked into his sleeves, hot and horrifying.
"Yue Lian!"
She tried to speak, but pain stole her breath.
"Hold on," he said, voice sharper than iron. "I've got you."
He pressed his palm against the wound, channeling healing Qi—slowing the bleed, sealing the worst of it—but the blade had been poisoned. He could feel it coiling inside her meridians like ice snakes.
People shouted. Guards arrived. Too late.
Fang Tian lifted her into his arms, the city blurring as he ran—past gasping merchants, frozen guards, panicked civilians.
Back to the manor. Into the healing hall.
Physicians gathered, lighting incense, boiling herbs.
He didn't leave her side.
Hours passed.
Yue Lian lay pale against white sheets, her breathing shallow. The poison had stalled, but not dispersed.
Fang Tian stared at her sleeping face.
His fingers curled into fists.
The attack hadn't been random. That wasn't a child. It had been a cultivator, disguised, trained in mimicry and assassination arts.
And the target had been clear.
Not him.
Her.
To silence her? To provoke him? Or both?
A message. A warning.
He stood and walked from the room, eyes colder than winter steel.
That night, the stars once again shone down upon Greenwind City.
But for Fang Tian, they no longer gleamed.
They burned.
As he stood atop the tower of the manor, wind tearing at his robe, his heart was not calm.
It had been a beautiful day.
Too beautiful.
It was the first time in years he had felt something real.
And the world had tried to take it away.
"Yue Lian," he whispered. "I won't let them have you. Not the City Lord. Not his enemies. Not fate."
He turned his gaze northward—toward the mountains beyond the city. Toward the place where secrets festered.
Then, for the first time since his childhood, he swore an oath.
A quiet one.
Not for power.
Not for revenge.
But for her.
"For once," he whispered, "my power is hers."