The path to Blade Hall was carved into the side of Mount Severance, the most treacherous peak within the sect's territory. Few dared ascend it unless summoned, and even fewer returned unchanged. It was a place of solitude, of steel and silence.
But Kai was done waiting for change.
He moved swiftly, alone this time, his crimson robe fluttering behind him as he stepped across narrow ledges and winding staircases. Jagged cliffs yawned beneath him. Sharp winds howled through the gorges like the wails of forgotten disciples.
By midday, the obsidian gates of Blade Hall appeared through the mist—massive, imposing, and scarred by centuries of weapon strikes. A warning to all who sought entry uninvited.
Kai didn't knock.
He pushed the doors open with a burst of spiritual force. The air inside was colder than the mountain wind, filled with the scent of iron and old incense.
Blades lined the walls—hundreds, maybe thousands. Swords, sabers, glaives—each humming faintly with residual killing intent. This was no sanctuary.
It was a shrine to war.
From the far end of the hall, a figure emerged.
Tall, gaunt, draped in plain grey robes. His hair was silver, his eyes unreadable. At his side, a single longsword—the Silent Edge, a weapon said to have cleaved a battlefield in half during the Sect Wars.
"Why are you here, Kai?" the man asked. His voice was calm, but every word felt honed to a blade's edge.
Kai bowed, then stood tall.
"I need your help, Master Yue."
The Blade Hall Master said nothing, his gaze piercing. "I swore off sect politics long ago. My blades serve only justice, not games."
"This isn't politics," Kai said. "It's survival."
He stepped forward, unrolling a copy of the pact. Yue's eyes flickered once as he scanned it. His hand twitched—just slightly—on the hilt of his sword.
"I thought Huang was a fool," Yue said quietly. "But this… this is treason cloaked in logic."
Kai nodded. "We're gathering those who will resist. Quietly. With purpose. But we need strength. Not just martial power—but the kind of strength people believe in. Fear. And you inspire both."
Yue turned away, staring at a cracked statue of the sect's founder.
"I trained with Huang," he said. "Watched him claw his way through ranks with ambition, not honor. I stayed silent then. That silence cursed me."
He drew his sword.
Its edge glimmered not with spirit light, but with conviction.
"Not again."
Kai's heart pounded.
"You'll help us?"
"I'll lead the blade-wielders," Yue said. "But understand this, Kai: the moment I draw this sword in defiance, there's no turning back. It's war."
Kai didn't hesitate.
"Then let it begin."
Outside, thunder cracked over the peaks.
Within Blade Hall, the first piece of the resistance had fallen into place—sharp, swift, and silent.