Chapter 9
The bell rang a third time.
Each toll was slower than the last, heavy enough to press against Shenping's chest like an unseen hand. The cellar walls trembled, dust raining down in thin streams.
"This isn't machine-made," Shenping said. "It's cultivation."
Sang Sang stood, fear and curiosity mixing in her eyes. "So there are still people like… your master?"
"Maybe," he replied. "Or maybe something worse."
The sound shifted direction.
Not closer by distance—but by presence.
Shenping felt it clearly now. Someone was bending the flow of time the way cultivators bent qi, stepping across moments instead of land.
The cellar entrance blurred.
Then cleared.
An old man stood there.
He wore plain gray robes, torn at the hem, his hair bound loosely behind his back. His eyes were sharp, far too sharp for a face lined with age. A bronze bell hung from his wrist, swaying gently though he had not moved.
He looked past Shenping and fixed his gaze on Sang Sang.
"So," the old man said, "the blood anchor lives."
Shenping stepped forward instantly, space warping as he placed himself between them. "State your name."
The old man chuckled. "You bend time like a butcher swings a cleaver, yet you dare question me?"
The pressure intensified.
Shenping felt his distorted space strain, threads creaking as if close to snapping.
"My name," the old man continued, "is Mo Yuan. Keeper of the Broken Epoch Sect."
Sang Sang whispered, "I've heard that name."
Mo Yuan's eyes flicked to her. "Of course you have. Your blood remembers what your mind does not."
Shenping clenched his fists. "Why are you here?"
Mo Yuan lifted his wrist slightly. The bell chimed once—soft this time. Shenping's vision swam as memories not his own tried to surface.
"I felt the Walker's death," Mo Yuan said. "Something that should not exist was erased by something that should not be born yet."
His gaze sharpened. "That interests me."
From the forest beyond the cellar came movement.
Not machines.
Men.
Figures in dark robes emerged silently between the trees, faces hidden, bodies radiating controlled killing intent. Cultivators. At least twelve of them.
Mo Yuan sighed. "And of course, they followed."
"Who?" Sang Sang asked.
"The people who believe bloodlines are tools," Mo Yuan replied. "And the people who fear what will happen if this girl lives."
Shenping felt it then—killing intent layered over fate itself.
"These aren't robots," he said.
"No," Mo Yuan agreed. "They're worse. They can choose."
The cultivators attacked without warning.
Blades flashed, qi tearing through the air in arcs of blue and crimson. Shenping moved on instinct, dragging Sang Sang aside as a strike split the ground where she had stood.
He countered, collapsing space around one attacker. The man screamed as his body folded inward, bones breaking before he vanished into a distortion that sealed shut like a wound.
The others reacted instantly, formations snapping into place.
"Time heretic!" one shouted. "Kill him first!"
Mo Yuan finally moved.
He rang the bell.
The sound froze three attackers mid-step, their bodies locking as if caught between moments. Mo Yuan flicked his sleeve casually, and their heads separated from their bodies without blood or sound.
Shenping stared.
"That bell," he said. "It manipulates time."
Mo Yuan smiled thinly. "Crude, but effective."
The remaining cultivators hesitated.
That was all Shenping needed.
He surged forward, ignoring the tearing pain in his chest. Space twisted violently as he struck, every movement precise and lethal. One by one, the attackers fell—some crushed by collapsed moments, others erased where they stood.
When it was over, the forest was silent again.
Mo Yuan turned to Sang Sang. "You cannot stay near ordinary villages anymore. Too many eyes. Too many greedy sects."
"And the machines," Shenping added.
Mo Yuan nodded slowly. "Yes. Them too."
He studied Shenping with renewed interest. "You are walking a path that ends alone."
Shenping met his gaze. "I know."
Mo Yuan looked back at Sang Sang. "Come with me. I can hide you. Teach you what your blood truly is."
Sang Sang hesitated.
Then she looked at Shenping.
He said nothing.
After a long moment, she shook her head. "If I go, he goes."
Mo Yuan laughed quietly. "Very well."
He turned, the bell chiming softly as the world around them began to blur.
"Then let us see," he said, "whether fate breaks first… or you do."
The forest vanished.
And time folded.