The Sect Gate
It was early; the sun had not yet risen.
The three of them departed in silence—no goodbyes, no witnesses. They simply began their journey toward the border. It would be a three-day trek, provided no trouble found them.
Wang Tao looked back once at the mountain, his home. Then he turned away and did not look again. Looking back was a luxury they could no longer afford.
---
THE FIRST DAY
They marched in silence. Wang Tao led the way, Yan Li took the middle, and Wei Lian brought up the rear—the formation held, always.
They stopped at noon to eat quickly.
— Ten minutes.
Wang Tao's voice was clipped. They continued immediately after.
---
THE SECOND DAY
The landscape shifted. Trees grew sparse, replaced by jagged rocks as they neared the border—and the danger. Wang Tao stopped abruptly, raising a hand.
— SILENCE.
He listened. Nothing.
— Continue — he whispered. — Slowly.
---
THE THIRD DAY — MORNING
Near the border, the air changed. It was colder, heavy with tension. Wang Tao raised his hand again, halting the group.
— What is it? — Yan Li whispered.
He pointed. In the distance, three cultivators in crimson robes were visible—scouts from the Flaming Battle Sect, carrying scrolls and intel.
— Body Refinement — Wang Tao analyzed coldly. — Weak.
He looked at his siblings. Their faces were taut with nerves.
— Yan Li. Wei Lian. Fight.
It wasn't a request; it was an order.
The ambush was swift.
Yan Li painted with a blurred intensity—chains of ink erupted and BOUND the three scouts before they could even draw their weapons.
Wei Lian formed a hand seal, executing a Wood Element combat technique: Hammer Root. Three roots burst from the earth, thick and blunt like mallets. They slammed into the cultivators with surgical precision.
BAM.
The scouts were thrown against the rocks, falling unconscious. In less than a minute, the enemies were immobilized. Yan Li and Wei Lian looked at the scene, a spark of pride in their eyes.
— We did it! — Yan Li smiled, breathless.
Wang Tao didn't respond. He simply walked toward the prisoners, a dagger already in his hand.
Yan Li's smile vanished as she realized his intent.
— Tao... what are you doing?
Wang Tao didn't stop.
— What is necessary.
— But... — she stepped forward — they're immobilized!
— Exactly — Wang Tao replied, his voice ice-cold.
Yan Li looked at the prisoners. They were young, terrified, still in the Body Refinement stage—just as she had been months ago.
— They won't hurt anyone! They're just scouts following orders!
Wang Tao stopped. He turned to look her in the eye.
— We are at war, Yan Li.
He paused.
— No one is innocent.
— They are WEAK! — she shouted. — They aren't a threat!
Wang Tao sighed.
— In war, there are only two paths. Life or death. And for us to live...
He gripped the dagger tighter.
— ...they have to die.
Silence. Yan Li froze, her mouth open, words failing her. She knew he was right. And she HATED it.
Wang Tao turned back toward the first prisoner. But then, a trembling voice broke the quiet.
— Brother Tao.
It was Wei Lian. Wang Tao stopped and looked back. Wei Lian stepped forward, his hands shaking violently.
— Let me... — he swallowed hard — let me do it.
Wang Tao and Yan Li stared, shocked.
— Wei Lian... — Yan Li began.
— I am a cultivator — he cut her off, his voice firm despite the tremors. — I have to find the courage.
Wang Tao searched his eyes and saw it: a mixture of raw terror and absolute determination. He hesitated.
— You don't have to...
— I DO — Wei Lian insisted.
He took a deep breath, took the dagger from Wang Tao's hand, and walked forward. His legs were shaking. His hands were shaking. Everything was shaking.
The three scouts lay there, bound and defenseless. Wei Lian noticed the small details—the twitching finger of one man, the slow rhythm of their breathing.
They'll wake up soon...
He closed his eyes, remembering the rabbit from his training, its desperate gaze as it struggled to live. His hands squeezed the hilt.
I can't. I can't do it. I—
He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Wang Tao.
— You don't have to — Wang Tao whispered.
Wei Lian opened his eyes, tears streaming down his face.
— But I said...
— I know — Wang Tao interrupted. — And you tried. That is enough. Leave it to me.
Wei Lian looked at the prisoner, his head bowing in defeat. I am not strong enough. He turned to hand back the dagger.
BUT...
Before Wang Tao could take it, Wei Lian spun around—FAST—and SLICE.
The blade went deep. He cut the throat of the defenseless, bound man. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic. Wei Lian dropped the dagger, his hands stained red.
— I...
His voice vanished. He fell to his knees and vomited.
Yan Li wept silently, covering her face. She had just watched her brother break.
Wang Tao stood over Wei Lian, watching him tremble and retch on the ground. He did it because he thought he had to. Because I told him it was necessary. A sharp pang of guilt hit his chest. They aren't meant for this.
He knelt and hugged Wei Lian tightly.
— It's okay — he whispered. — You don't have to do it again.
— B-but the war... — Wei Lian sobbed.
— I will take care of it — Wang Tao cut him off. — From this day on, leave it to me.
Wei Lian clung to him like a child.
Wang Tao looked at the remaining two prisoners. He stood up, retrieved the dagger, and walked forward WITHOUT hesitation.
First: SLICE — he fell. Second: SLICE — he fell.
Quick, efficient, emotionless. He killed so they wouldn't have to. He cleaned the blade and sheathed it.
— Let's go — he said, his voice neutral. — We must keep moving.
Yan Li and Wei Lian didn't answer. They followed in a hollow silence, carrying the weight of the first execution.
---
NIGHT — THE CAMP
Three small tents surrounded a campfire. No one spoke. Yan Li stared into the flames, lost. Wang Tao was methodically cleaning his weapons. Wei Lian was alone in his tent.
Wang Tao set aside his gear and approached Yan Li.
— Are you okay?
She didn't look up from the fire.
— I'm immature, aren't I? You're all growing, protecting us, and I...
— Stop, Yan Li.
Wang Tao sighed.
— I wanted to prepare you for war, but... — he glanced toward Wei Lian's tent — I don't know if my methods are right anymore.
Yan Li shook her head.
— You are looking out for us, Tao. I don't mind the killing, as long as it's to protect you both. But those three... they were so young. If it wasn't for Master Sai, that could have been me.
Wang Tao clenched his fists.
— There is no "if" in this world, Yan Li. Our fate is in our hands. And I'm sorry if I treated you like a flower. To be honest, you are the strongest of us three now. If something goes wrong, we're counting on you. Okay?
Yan Li turned to him, her eyes wet. She nodded silently.
---
INSIDE THE TENT
Wei Lian sat with his knees to his chest, staring at his hands. Even though he had washed them, he could still see the blood.
That wasn't a fight. It was an execution.
He closed his eyes, but it only made it worse. He saw the man's face, the spray of blood, the gasping mouth.
I killed. For real. Not a rabbit. A person.
He trembled. What does this make me? An assassin? A monster?
Suddenly, he felt something HOT in his chest, expanding. His soul shuddered.
Wei Lian's eyes snapped open. Something had shifted. He could FEEL his interior differently, as if observing himself from the outside.
What he saw shocked him. His soul was NOT whole.
It was FRAGMENTED—pieces floating separately, yet connected by thin, fragile threads.
My soul is broken? No... not broken. It was BORN this way. Fragmented from the start.
He looked at the fragments, each resonating as a part of himself. Who am I? What am I?
Then he remembered the manual: SCRIPTURE OF THE THOUSAND FACES OF THE INNER DAO.
His body shook. Master... did you already know?
He thought of his life—his father making masks, and him learning the craft. He hadn't just been an artisan; he had been a person living through masks.
A terrifying, tempting idea took root.
If my soul is already fragmented, and with the Master's techniques... perhaps...
---
Yan Li entered the tent.
— Wei Lian? Are you okay?
He looked up. For a split second, she saw something different in his eyes: a void, but also a cold resolve.
— I'm fine — he replied, his voice far too calm.
Yan Li frowned. — Are you sure?
Wei Lian nodded.
— Yes. I just understood something.
— What?
Wei Lian looked at his own hands.
— That cultivators need masks.
Yan Li didn't understand. — Masks?
Wei Lian didn't explain. He simply lay down and closed his eyes.
— Goodnight, sister.
Yan Li hesitated but left, leaving Wei Lian alone with his fragmented soul and his new, terrible idea.