The ruin was nothing special.
Just an old watchtower built long before the sect wars, swallowed by ivy and moss. One side had collapsed. The other still stood, just enough to keep out the rain.
Mo Tian stepped inside and sank against the wall.
His body throbbed. The wound in his leg was turning dark. Still, it wouldn't kill him. Nothing would.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
He didn't sleep. He couldn't—not truly. But sometimes, if he was still enough, the world forgot him for a while.
That was the only rest he had left.
A drip of water echoed from somewhere above. The wind passed through the cracks in the stone like a whisper. His hand brushed against old wood and dust. Something shifted beneath his fingers.
Paper.
He pulled it closer.
A talisman. Weathered. Almost unreadable.
But not to him.
He knew the script. He had drawn it before. Back when he was still human enough to need protection.
A barrier seal. Weak. Crude. Meant for a child.
His heart tightened—not with pain, but with memory.
He had made this one. Years ago. For a girl barely strong enough to walk.
A disciple from the outer court. Young. Fierce. Always staring too long, asking too many questions.
He had forgotten her name.
But not her eyes.
He had given her this charm during a demon beast incursion. Told her it would keep her safe.
She had believed him.
The next day, her name was on the mourning wall.
Mo Tian folded the paper and set it gently on the floor beside him.
So many lives, reduced to fragments. Faces blurred by time. But the guilt never faded. It clung like old blood in the seams of his soul.
Outside, thunder rolled in the distance.
He didn't move.
There was no need. The storm would pass like everything else.
Everything but him.
---
Across the realm, far behind polished walls and glowing jade lanterns, Bai Xueyin stood before a map of the fractured provinces.
Red markers dotted the edges of known territory. Each one placed with careful hands. Each one a sign of movement, of unrest.
She stared at the easternmost one—the one nearest the ruins of the Crimson Lotus.
The elder beside her said nothing. He didn't need to. She could feel his doubt in the way he breathed.
She spoke first.
"Have them search the outer villages. Quietly. No colors. No banners."
The elder bowed slightly.
"If we find him?"
"Don't engage."
That drew a pause.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"I'll go myself."
Silence stretched again. The elder lowered his eyes and left the room without another word.
Bai Xueyin exhaled slowly. Her fingers curled against the edge of the table.
She didn't want this.
But want had nothing to do with fate.
When he lived, the heavens cracked. When he died, they bent. Now that he walked again, the balance would shift.
She had watched it happen before.
And she would watch it happen again.
Unless…
She looked out the window. A breeze caught her hair, carried the scent of something long forgotten.
Burned incense. Wild herbs. Old smoke.
Her eyes narrowed.
He was close.
Back in the tower, Mo Tian opened his eyes.
His hand had curled in his sleep-like stillness. Around what, he didn't know.
The talisman was gone.
Blown away, maybe. Or taken by the wind.
But the warmth of memory remained, faint and cruel.
And just beyond the broken wall, the storm had arrived.
----
Rain fell in thin, steady lines.
It wasn't the kind of storm that roared. It whispered. Quiet. Constant. A slow wash of cold that soaked the ruined tower's broken stones and softened the edges of the world.
Mo Tian stepped outside.
He didn't bother shielding himself. Water clung to his hair, ran down his face, soaked into the seams of his blood-stained robes.
He welcomed it.
The cold reminded him he still had a body.
The pain reminded him it still worked.
Lightning cracked far off in the distance. He paused, watching the brief white flash behind the clouds. He counted the seconds until the thunder reached him.
Seven.
Still far.
He walked.
The slope below the tower curved down into low hills and sparse woodland. The trees here were thin and old, like they'd stopped trying to grow. Roots tangled around bones of old stone paths.
He followed one, limping.
There were no signs, no markers, no reason. Just the weight in his chest pulling him eastward.
He had learned not to fight it.
Wherever the curse wanted to take him, she was usually waiting.
---
Bai Xueyin stood at the edge of the sect's teleportation array.
Rain misted the stone platform, softening the sharp light of the soul-lanterns embedded in the ground. Behind her, guards stood ready, but she had told them not to follow.
This was something she had to do alone.
She pulled her cloak tighter.
There was no need for drama. No war cry. No final vow.
Only duty.
And, buried far beneath that—
A question.
She stepped into the circle.
The light flared. The world shifted.
And just like that, she was gone.
---
Mo Tian stopped under a crooked pine tree and sat on the exposed roots.
His body ached more than before. His left arm was beginning to seize. The bone hadn't set right. His breath came shorter with each hour.
But he wasn't dying.
Of course not.
He never did.
He tilted his head back and let the rain hit his face.
For a moment, he imagined what it would feel like if this were the end. If this was the final moment. Cold rain. Soft thunder. Silence.
Peace.
But it wasn't.
Something shifted in the wind.
His eyes opened.
Not a sound. Not a flash of movement.
Just… presence.
Like the world had flinched.
His fingers flexed. The hilt of his broken sword pressed against his hip.
He didn't draw it. Not yet.
He waited.
He knew this feeling.
She was closer now.
---
Bai Xueyin stepped from the teleportation gate into a field of dead grass and stone cairns.
The wind caught her cloak, sending silver threads of her hair across her face.
She didn't brush them away.
She looked up toward the hills. The forest beyond. The path winding down from the mountain.
She had seen it before.
Years ago.
She took a step forward.
The old sword at her side hummed faintly against her hip, like it remembered too.
And far beyond the hill, though she could not yet see him—
She knew.
So did he.