The days that followed the oath at the Moonfire Tree were a blur of movement.
Shen and Mei Lian left the Blackspire Mountains with fire at their backs and a new purpose guiding their every step. The Crimson Sect had no disciples, no fortress, no treasury—only two blades and a flame. But word of their declaration spread like wildfire through the martial world.
Whispers rose in the shadows.
"The Crimson Heart has awakened."
"The Snowblade's heir walks again."
"A new sect born without the approval of the Great Clans?"
At first, the powerful dismissed it as myth. A frightened reaction to the Pavilion's expanding power.
But then, three things happened.
First, a raiding party from the Scorpion Fang Clan was found burned to ash outside the eastern trade pass, their commander's weapon melted into slag. The only thing left standing was a crimson sigil scorched into stone.
Second, a captured slave caravan en route to the Heavenly Sky Pavilion was intercepted by a single masked figure. Every shackle was shattered. The caravan master's memory burned from his mind.
Third, a scroll arrived at the gates of the Pavilion itself—unmarked, unsigned, but sealed in red wax with the flame-sigil.
Inside, one line:
"We are not yours to tame."
That was the moment the martial world began to take the Crimson Sect seriously.
Meanwhile, in a quiet village nestled between the Whispering Hills, Mei Lian sat beneath a willow tree, breath steady, arms folded in meditation. Shen stood nearby, watching as she drew her spirit inward, coaxing the flame within to answer her.
She opened her eyes.
A flickering orb of crimson hovered between her palms—unstable, wild, but present.
Shen nodded. "You're improving."
"It's still volatile," she said. "Sometimes I feel like it wants to leap from me and set everything alight."
"That's what it was made to do."
"I don't want to destroy."
"Then learn to choose what to burn."
She gave a quiet laugh. "You make it sound simple."
"It's not. But neither is forging a sect from nothing."
Just then, a young girl appeared at the edge of the grove—barefoot, clutching a small satchel. She bowed deeply.
"Please… are you the Crimson Sect?"
Mei Lian and Shen exchanged a glance. He stepped forward. "We are."
The girl's eyes shimmered with tears. "Bandits took my village. They say no one will help us because we have no spirit stones. But… they say the Crimson Flame burns for the helpless."
Mei Lian's voice was soft but firm. "You heard right."
Shen turned. "Where is your village?"
"Two valleys east. They took my brother…"
Shen looked to Mei Lian.
She stood.
"Let's go," she said. "The Crimson Sect doesn't wait for justice. It delivers it."
And so they moved—silent shadows in the wind, blades drawn not for glory, but for change. With each step, their legend grew.
And in the highest towers of the Heavenly Sky Pavilion, fear finally began to flicker.
Because legends, once born, are hard to kill.