The rain was not a downpour tonight—it was a whisper. A steady curtain of water that blurred the moonlight and made the world look like it was breathing. The river's surface was black glass, broken only by the occasional ripple of a drifting branch.
Wei Lian moved along the narrow forest path toward the old bridge, his steps silent over the mud-slick stones. The Severed Pulse Sword lay hidden in his sleeve, its hilt warm against his palm. The talisman from the masked messenger hung beneath his robe, a muted heartbeat in the dark.
The bridge itself was an ancient thing—wood blackened by age, its railings carved with symbols no one in the sect could still read. To cross it was to step between worlds.
Appropriate, Wei Lian thought. If this is a trap, they've chosen the perfect stage for it.
At the far end of the bridge, a figure waited.
The mask was indeed white—lacquered and smooth, without expression. The rain rolled off a dark hood, pooling at the man's boots.
Wei Lian stopped several paces away.
"You summoned me."
The voice that came was male, quiet, yet carrying easily across the rain.
"And you came alone."
Wei Lian smiled faintly.
"No one worth fearing arrives with an entourage."
The masked man tilted his head.
"You are… different than the others in your sect. You reached the ninth layer at an age when most crawl through the fourth. And yet… I think you've climbed even higher than they believe."
Wei Lian's gaze remained steady.
"You think. Dangerous habit."
The man took a step closer, boots creaking on the wet wood.
"I don't need to think. I know."
Wei Lian let the silence stretch, studying him. He wants a reaction. A flicker of doubt. Something to confirm what he suspects.
Finally, Wei Lian spoke.
"Knowing is the first step to dying. People kill for suspicion; they slaughter for certainty."
The man chuckled softly.
"Wise words. Then you understand why I'm here. I am offering an exchange. Your secret… for my silence."
Wei Lian's lips curved, but it was not a smile.
"Secrets are not coins to be traded. They are blades. Once unsheathed, they cannot be put away without blood."
The man stopped moving.
"So you will kill me?"
Wei Lian's voice was low.
"If you force me to unsheathe this blade, yes."
They stood there in the rain, the bridge groaning faintly under the slow push of the river.
The masked man tilted his head again.
"You speak of blades and blood as if they are your only truths. But what of trust?"
Wei Lian's eyes glinted.
"Trust is an agreement between liars. You promise you will not hurt me; I promise the same. Neither of us believes it, but both of us pretend—until one finds the better moment to strike."
The man's breath caught, almost imperceptibly.
"That is a bleak philosophy."
Wei Lian stepped forward now, closing the distance.
"It is the only one that survives."
The man's hand moved—fast. Steel glinted under the rain.
Wei Lian was faster. The Severed Pulse Sword left its sleeve without a sound. The blade kissed the man's throat before the dagger could clear its arc.
Wei Lian's voice was calm.
"You've already confirmed you know too much."
The man's pulse hammered under the blade. Rain dripped from the mask's chin.
"Then finish it."
Wei Lian's gaze didn't waver.
"You expect death. That is why you are ready for it. That readiness makes it meaningless."
He stepped back slightly, blade still in hand.
"I will not kill you here. Not when your body would be found. Death is most powerful when it changes the game for everyone else—but no one sees your hand move the piece."
The man was silent for a long time, then lowered his dagger.
"You are… not what I expected."
Wei Lian wiped his blade and slid it back into his sleeve.
"And you are exactly what I expected."
Wei Lian turned to leave the bridge.
The man's voice followed him.
"There are others who know. If you want your tenth layer to remain… yours… you will need to move quickly."
Wei Lian didn't pause.
"I always move quickly. I just make sure no one notices until it's far too late."
By the time he returned to his cave, the rain had stopped. The sky was still dark, but the horizon carried the faintest ember of morning.
He sat by the altar, letting the quiet return. His mind churned with the man's words. Others who know.
If true, the tenth layer was no longer his alone—it was a spark in a dry forest, ready to set the world aflame.
Wei Lian lit a single incense stick, watching the smoke twist upward.
"Freedom is not keeping your secrets," he murmured to the empty cave. "It is ensuring that even if the world learns them, it cannot touch you."
His eyes sharpened.
"Then… the time has come to remove every hand that could lift the veil."
The incense burned down. Outside, the sect still slept, unaware that Wei Lian's next game had already begun.