The rain fell gently, like the sky whispering apologies it could never take back.
Mo Lianyin stood beneath the twisted branches of the Widow Tree, his black robes dampened and clinging to him like regrets. He hadn't returned here in years—not since the massacre. But the wind still carried the faintest scent of burned wood and cold blood. It hadn't forgotten. And neither had he.
He traced his fingers along the bark of the tree. Once, this had been the courtyard where his sect brothers practiced sword formations. Now, it was just dirt and ghosts.
Behind him, Lin Shaoyun watched in silence, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade.
"You shouldn't have come alone," she said softly.
"I wasn't alone," he replied, eyes fixed ahead. "They're all still here. Watching. Waiting."
She hesitated. "Even ghosts can't breathe life into vengeance."
Mo Lianyin turned. His expression wasn't cold—it was empty. "Then they'll suffocate with me."
Shaoyun stepped forward, placing something in his hand. A lotus hairpin. Broken at the stem.
"You dropped this the night the Sect fell."
He stared at it. Time folded in on itself, pulling him back into memory. That night—his master's trembling hands, the crimson flood, the roar of betrayal. And Liyue's final smile. She had given him this pin, whispering, "To remember the quiet parts of you, even when the world screams."
It had been his vow to protect her. To protect them all.
And he had failed.
Lianyin clenched the pin tightly, the metal biting into his skin.
"I have no right to hold onto this."
"You do," Shaoyun said. "Because you're the only one left who remembers what it meant."
A flash of spiritual energy split the sky. Both turned as a figure landed just beyond the tree line. Dressed in silver and blue, the man bore the insignia of the Cold Rain Pavilion—a sect loyal to the emperor, and enemies to those who practiced the Forbidden Arts.
"Mo Lianyin," the figure barked. "You've been marked. Come quietly, or face righteous death."
Lianyin's eyes darkened.
"So the emperor sends his dogs now."
"You defy the laws of cultivation! You harbor demonic techniques!"
He laughed bitterly. "And what of the emperor who allowed a righteous sect to be burned in secret, all to silence a prophecy?"
Shaoyun moved beside him, drawing her blade.
"We don't have time for debate," she whispered. "If he sounds the alarm—"
"I know."
Lianyin stepped forward, silent and graceful like the still surface of a poisoned lake.
"You want to see the Forbidden Arts?" he asked.
The man hesitated, noticing the sudden shift in the air. Shadows curled at Lianyin's feet. The sky grew heavier.
Then came the whisper—"Unchain."
From beneath his sleeves, the bindings broke.
Black veins pulsed along his arms. His eyes glowed with eerie moonlight. The power he had spent years containing flooded out like a tide that had waited too long.
The Cold Rain envoy barely had time to react.
With a flick of his wrist, Lianyin's spirit energy condensed into a blade of pure night. He moved like a shadow unstuck from time, cutting through air, reality, and mercy.
The envoy crumpled, eyes wide in disbelief. His final breath vanished into mist.
Silence returned.
Shaoyun stared at him, stunned. "You… you've grown stronger."
"No," Lianyin said. "I've grown tired."
He sheathed the darkness back into himself, the forbidden energy retreating like a beast obeying its master.
"Let's go," he murmured. "Before more come."
But as they turned to leave, a whisper floated on the wind. Soft. Almost forgotten.
It was a child's voice.
"Gege…?"
Lianyin froze.
The voice echoed again. This time from the Widow Tree.
"Gege, don't leave me…"
He turned slowly.
There, within the bark—etched in ancient spiritual ink—was a seal he hadn't noticed before. It pulsed faintly.
"No," he whispered, walking closer. "That's not possible…"
Shaoyun followed, brows furrowing. "What is it?"
"I know this voice…"
He reached out, pressing his palm to the seal.
The ground trembled. The wind stopped. And the world around them folded into darkness.
For a heartbeat, he was falling.
Then—
He was standing in the courtyard again, only this time, it was whole.
Disciples trained, laughter filled the air, and a small boy tugged at his robe.
"Gege! You promised to teach me the Sky Petal step today!"
Mo Lianyin's heart cracked.
"Xiao Rui…"
His younger brother.
Alive. Whole. Smiling.
But this was a memory. A trap. A cruel illusion hidden beneath a forgotten vow.
He dropped to his knees.
"I couldn't protect you," he whispered. "I tried. I really did."
The boy just smiled, glowing faintly. "It's okay, Gege. You lived. That's enough for us."
Then the image faded, the courtyard dissolving into ashes.
And he was back beneath the tree.
Shaoyun caught him as he collapsed.
"What… what did you see?" she asked.
Lianyin's voice trembled. "My brother. The last promise I broke."
He stood, shakily.
And for the first time in years, he let himself cry.
Not for weakness.
But because he had remembered why he was fighting.