The strike landed like a sun collapsing.
Light tore through the lotus-realm, each petal splitting into shrapnel of brilliance, the air fracturing with a thousand screams that were not human. Qiuyue's form convulsed at the heart of it, her silhouette flaring, unraveling, then scattering into a storm of pale lotus shards.
And then—silence.
The world stuttered, frozen between collapse and void. Yinan couldn't breathe. Couldn't even think. His whole body buzzed as though lightning had taken residence in his marrow. His gaze found Liansheng—crimson streaking down his temple, chest heaving, one sleeve torn and dripping with blood.
The guardian was still standing. Still holding.
Relief and terror collided in Yinan's chest so violently he almost staggered. He reached him—no, he grabbed him—fingers digging into Liansheng's arm, needing to feel the heat of his skin, proof that he was real.
"Don't—" Yinan's voice broke. He swallowed, tried again, softer, "Don't you dare vanish on me."
Liansheng's lips curved in the ghost of a smile, but the expression trembled, as if even his strength to pretend had been drained. "I told you. I'm hard to kill."
The lotus-realm groaned around them. Corridors of fractured mirrors buckled inward, glass raining down in slivers that sliced the ground like silver rain. The system's walls flickered, half-lit, half-failing.
Yinan didn't let go. His other hand rose instinctively, brushing blood away from Liansheng's temple, thumb smearing red against pale skin. The gesture stopped them both—too intimate, too unguarded. Liansheng's breath hitched, eyes darkening with something raw and unfamiliar.
Yinan froze—then forced himself not to retreat. For once, he chose not to swallow the impulse. He let his hand linger, let the closeness bridge what years of silence had buried.
Liansheng's voice dropped, a rasp almost lost under the collapsing world. "Yinan…"
The space between them tightened, trembling on the edge of something neither of them had allowed.
And then—
Her laugh.
Fractured. Distant. But alive.
"You think this is victory?" Qiuyue's voice rippled through the glitching air, disembodied, venom bleeding through the cracks of the system. "You tore my skin, yes. You made me bleed. And for that—I should thank you."
The shards of lotus light stirred, coalescing into faint ghost-petals that hovered like a storm on the horizon.
"Now I know pain. Now I know hunger." Her tone dropped, silk over steel. "You only made me stronger."
The world heaved again. Yinan gritted his teeth, pulling Liansheng against him as the ground fractured.
Qiuyue was retreating, but not gone. She was weaving herself deeper into the system's marrow, into shadows they had yet to name.
And Yinan understood, with bone-deep clarity, that what had just ended was not a battle. It was only the opening wound.
He tightened his grip on Liansheng's arm. For once, Liansheng didn't pull away.
The storm was only beginning.
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