Ash drifted over the ruined battlefield like gray snow.
The shattered halls of the Blood Lotus Sect's outer fortress still smoldered, charred bodies littering the stone steps. Three of the sect's most feared elders—Yanwu, Mo Jie, and Bai Xun—lay broken or vanished in the wake of the battle, their auras severed and dispersed, their corpses either burned or scattered among the carnage.
Lu Xuan stood at the edge of a cracked platform, his robes torn, his arms covered in soot and dried blood. His breathing was calm, but behind his eyes, something stirred—restless and dark. His aura had stabilized, pulsing with the early signs of Core Formation, Mid Stage—a significant leap.
Yet victory did not feel like triumph.
It felt like bait.
Behind him, the wind shifted—and with it, came her voice.
"You've grown, my lord," the Crimson Demoness said, stepping from a tear in space itself. Her form was semi-corporeal, a glimmer of silken robes and wine-colored eyes flickering like flame.
Su Xue's ice qi surged immediately, and she stepped between Lu Xuan and the apparition, Frostbane half-drawn. "You're not real. You're just a piece of her."
The Demoness laughed—a soft, lilting sound with the edge of a blade.
"Indeed. Just a soul shard. But enough to remember your face, Frost-Touched One."
Lu Xuan didn't move. "Why appear now?"
"To watch. To remind." Her smile deepened. "To see whether the god I once followed is truly awakening… or if he's merely pretending again."
"You mistake me for someone else," Lu Xuan replied, his voice flat.
"No," the Demoness whispered. "I never forget the scent of your blood. The taste of your wrath. I served you once, Devourer. And I will again."
She vanished in a ripple of heat.
Silence fell like a blade between the two who remained.
Su Xue turned to him, her expression thunderous. "You didn't even try to resist her."
"I didn't need to," he said coolly. "She's not a threat. Not yet."
"Not a threat?" Su Xue stepped closer, eyes blazing. "She's part of what destroyed the Eastern Kingdoms. That thing helped you burn entire sects to ash in your last life—!"
"And what would you have me do?" Lu Xuan snapped. "Seal her? Kill her again? Maybe let the heavens burn me down while I stand still?"
Her hand tightened on her sword. "Don't pretend you're the victim."
"I'm not," he said. "I'm the consequence."
The words hung there, cold and brutal.
They turned from each other without speaking.
Aftermath in Ashes
Elsewhere, the surviving sect members regrouped at the broken outer gates. The fortress was in chaos, but the inner sanctum of the Blood Lotus Sect remained untouched—sealed behind a series of blood rites only accessible to the sect's highest echelon.
Elder Shui Feng, though wounded, had escaped using his puppet techniques. His remaining corpse soldiers still lurked in the shadows of the valley, waiting for orders. Rumors whispered that the Blood Lotus's true core had moved underground, preparing something ancient… something necrotic.
A death bloom, ready to open.
Su Xue, frost clinging to her steps, tended to the wounded villagers and sect allies. But her eyes kept drifting to the cliff where Lu Xuan had gone. She hated that she noticed.
She hated that she cared.
And most of all, she hated the voice in her head that kept asking: What if he's right? What if he's just what the world made him to be?
Pendulum of Memory
That night, under the half-shattered sky, both Su Xue and Lu Xuan dreamed—but not their own dreams.
They saw through the eyes of their past selves.
A battlefield. Stars falling like tears from the firmament.
Lu Xuan—his past self—stood atop a throne of bones, sword gleaming, eyes black with power.
And kneeling before him… the Crimson Demoness, body bowed in supplication, a fan of crimson silk placed at his feet.
"I give you my soul, my beauty, my blade," she had said. "May your hunger never starve."
Then Su Xue—her past self, cloaked in pale robes of timeless design—had stepped forward, blade aimed not at the Demoness, but at him.
"You've gone too far," she had whispered. "You must be stopped."
But she hadn't done it.
Not then.
Not yet.
They both woke in separate corners of the ruined hall, the cold fire of that memory still dancing in their veins.
Hate is a Mirror
Morning found them quiet again.
Too quiet.
Su Xue stood at the edge of the encampment, binding her arm in frost-sealed gauze. She felt Lu Xuan's presence long before he approached.
"Say it," she said, not turning. "Say you remember."
He didn't answer immediately. Then:
"I remember… too much."
She turned, eyes filled with fury. "And still you side with her?"
"I side with no one. Not you. Not her. Not even the heavens." He stepped forward. "I choose myself."
"Then you're no better than the monster you used to be."
"No," he said, eyes burning. "I am that monster. And I'm the only one who can end what he began."
For a heartbeat, their auras surged—ice and fire, resentment and regret.
And then they turned away.
In the Distance…
Far beneath the Blood Lotus Sect, hidden by thirteen layers of cursed earth and sacrificial barriers, the remnants of the inner sanctum stirred.
A coffin—black, scaled, etched with veins of obsidian—began to crack.
Within it, a heartbeat pulsed.
Not of a man.
Not of a god.
But something in between.
And beside it, a mirror shimmered. In it, the face of the Crimson Demoness smiled.
"We are nearly whole again, my lord."
**End of Chapter 26**