The caravan had been burning for hours by the time Mo Lianyin and Qingxue reached it. Smoke clung to the sky in thick, black waves, carrying the acrid scent of scorched wood and blood.
Bodies lay scattered along the dirt road—traders, guards, even children. Their attackers had been efficient and cruel, leaving nothing worth saving.
Nothing except one.
From beneath the overturned cart came a faint cough.
Lianyin was at her side in moments, pulling aside splintered wood to reveal a girl no older than twelve. Her face was pale under the soot, her ankle crushed beneath a fallen beam.
"She's still alive," he said, glancing to Qingxue. "Help me lift this."
They heaved together, the beam groaning as it shifted. The girl whimpered in pain, but relief washed over her dirt-streaked face when she saw them.
And then the enemy returned.
---
Four riders crested the hill, black banners snapping in the wind. Their armor gleamed even in the dim smoke, their expressions hidden behind silver masks.
Bandits, but too disciplined for common thieves.
One raised a spear toward the girl. "Leave her," the leader called, "or join her."
Qingxue stepped forward, blade raised. "She's a child."
"She's a witness," the leader replied, spurring his horse forward.
---
The fight was instant and vicious. Qingxue engaged two of them at once, her sword singing against their steel. Lianyin moved to meet the leader, his blade sparking as it deflected the heavy spear.
But the leader was strong—too strong—and every second spent holding him back allowed the other riders to circle toward the girl.
The smoke burned his lungs, his body still weakened from the assassins' wounds. He knew he couldn't keep all of them away from her.
Unless—
---
The bell.
It rang once, clear and slow, cutting through the noise of battle. The Eighth Art rose in his mind like a tide, black and endless.
> One thought, the voice whispered. One breath. They will fall like the others.
Lianyin's grip tightened on his sword. He could feel the choice crystallizing in the space between heartbeats.
If he opened the door again, Qingxue would see. She would know. But the girl would live.
> They will thank you, the voice coaxed. And you will finally see how far mercy can reach.
---
The spear grazed his shoulder, the heat of blood mixing with the heat of the flames.
He let go.
---
The world slowed. The riders froze mid-charge, their horses rearing in silent panic. Lianyin's vision tunneled, the toll of the bell vibrating through every bone.
He reached out—not with his hands, but with the command that pulsed in his veins.
And one by one, the riders' hearts stopped.
---
Time snapped back. The bodies hit the ground in unison, the horses scattering into the smoke.
The girl stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.
Qingxue turned slowly, her blade lowering. She didn't ask what he had done. She didn't need to.
---
Later, as they led the girl toward Yunqiu, Qingxue kept her distance. Her silence was heavier than any wound.
The voice inside him was not silent.
> See? This is what power is for. And we have only just begun.