Chapter 4 — Ashes Beneath Lianshan
The sky was burning.
What had once been a serene night under lantern-glow was now stained with roiling clouds of spiritual corruption. The southern ridge, Lianshan's natural wall of defense for centuries, cracked and peeled like rotten bark. Fire didn't fall — it bled from the sky, thick and slow like ink poured from some celestial wound.
Aorin stood frozen as he watched darkness ooze toward the village.
"Sayuri," he said, voice low. "Go wake the eastern guard. Get the kids to the temple vault. Now."
She didn't argue. One look at his eyes — no longer soft, but glinting with cyan fire — told her he had already decided.
She vanished in a flicker of illusion-stepped light, wind whispering where she once stood.
Aorin turned toward Elder Renshu. "Who is it?"
Renshu's voice was grim. "Karax. One of the Demon Sovereignty's commanders. A former human — Stage 78 before he fell."
"How much time do we have?"
Renshu looked at the sky. "Less than a bell's toll."
Aorin's fingers curled around the yoyo locked at his wrist. It shimmered softly — a crescent-shaped weapon of polished orichalcum, etched with old-world sigils from both eastern and western arts. His breath steadied. He had never fought anyone above Stage 50. But something inside him was stirring — as if ancient memory was coiling through his blood.
His Flow was waking.
---
At the Village Outskirts
The air ruptured.
Karax didn't walk — he descended, pulled down by gravity that seemed to buckle under his presence. Tall, gaunt, and draped in a cloak made of screaming shadows, the corrupted general touched down before the southern gate with a grin carved like bone across his face.
Behind him, dozens of lesser demonic humans crawled from the mist — disfigured, mutated, whispering madness as their forms twitched with unstable power. Each one had once been a cultivator. Now, they were nothing more than walking spiritual tumors.
"Lovely little village," Karax muttered, his voice a cold wind that made even the lanterns dim. "So much warmth. So much hope. Let's set fire to that, shall we?"
---
Inside the Temple Vault
Children huddled, their eyes wide with terror. Sayuri stood at the front of the chamber, blade drawn, flute trembling slightly at her waist. The temple's barrier — powered by a Stage 60 array once gifted by a traveling monk — flickered uncertainly.
She touched the stone with her palm. "Hold a little longer… please…"
Behind her, an older girl whispered, "Are we going to die?"
Sayuri didn't turn around.
"No," she said simply. "Because he's still out there."
---
Outside
Aorin met the enemy at the gate.
His spiritual energy surged — cyan light flaring in arcs around him, the ground fracturing from the pressure. His yoyo spun, releasing threads of spiritual silk that snaked through the air like vipers.
Karax chuckled.
"You're the boy they're all whispering about. The one with flowbound blood."
"You're the thing that used to be human."
Karax's smile widened. "Still am. Just… improved."
The ground erupted as they clashed.
Karax's claws — half-flesh, half-corrupted iron — struck against the spiraling thread of Aorin's yoyo, parried just in time. Sparks of dark and light shot through the sky. The village shook under the force of their battle.
Karax spun, lashing out with a shadow tendril, but Aorin dropped low, the yoyo splitting into twin discs that spun around his arms, forming a spiraling cyan shield. He leapt upward, drawing his energy into his palm.
"Fifth Form — Chain of Azure Echoes!"
The yoyo roared, expanding mid-air and slamming into Karax's shoulder, cleaving through his armor in a shockwave of color.
Karax staggered, growling. "You're... better than expected."
Aorin panted. "You're slower than I hoped."
The demon's eyes narrowed. Then, he raised both hands to the sky.
"I was saving this for the Eighth City," he hissed. "But let's see how you handle a continent-breaker."
The sky cracked.
Thousands of black eyes opened in the clouds.
---
Temple Vault
Sayuri gasped. She felt it. A pressure beyond words. Beyond logic.
A spiritual weight pressing down on the entire village.
She turned to the children. "Stay here. Don't move."
She vanished.
---
Above the Village
Karax chanted in a lost language, one only demons remembered. The sky howled in response. A pulse of darkness surged downward — like a falling star made of hatred.
Aorin tried to rise — but the pressure crushed him. His arms trembled. His spirit threads snapped. Cyan light flickered, failing.
"Get up," he growled to himself. "Move—!"
The black meteor closed in.
And then—
Flute music.
A single note, pure and clear, rang out like glass across a storm.
Karax blinked. "What—"
Sayuri appeared between the blast and Aorin, her flute-blade humming. Her hair danced in the wind, her presence blazing with musical runes.
"Illusion Form — Thousand Petals Scatter."
She played.
The sky shattered into flowers of sound.
The meteor burst — slowed, then dissolved — as if even darkness couldn't resist her melody. The corruption trembled and fled.
Aorin stared, breathless.
She turned, eyes fierce. "You were too slow, husband."
He smiled through the pain. "I married a queen."
---
Later…
Karax had fled. Wounded. Furious.
The village stood — but barely. Fires burned along the edges. Elder Renshu had sealed himself within the old shrine, speaking with voices from beyond.
The Flow was stirring across the world.
And Aorin knew, as he took Sayuri's hand under the ruined arch of their childhood shrine…
This was just the beginning.