Days passed peacefully in the Hei Lin San Sect.
In a world painted with joy and comfort, life blossomed gently.
Yu Sui and Mo Yan spent their nights wrapped in quiet love, wordless yet full.
Duie and Su Nian continued their constant, silly bickering.....bickering that barely hid the growing affection blooming between them.
And Wey Xiong, poor soul, remained terrified of Wuzu, unable to face her without flinching.
Lao Duan, ever the spirit of mischief, stuck close to Yu Sui, teasing and laughing, adding color to every corner of the sect.
With these little moments...simple, beautiful, fleeting...the days glided by like autumn leaves carried by a soft breeze.
One month passed.
Then two…
---
And slowly, the world began to shift.
A strange stillness settled over the land.
No urgent messages. No disturbances. Just… calm.
The season of peaches was nearing its end.
For the past year, peach blossoms had bloomed endlessly, bearing fruit, painting the forests in pink and gold.
But as the season waned, the trees began to shed their leaves, preparing for the slumber of winter.
In just a few days, snow would begin to fall.
In the Hei Lin San Sect, winters were never gentle.
The land would soon be buried beneath thick layers of snow.
The trees...alive, but lifeless.....would stand still and solemn, cloaked in white.
And so it happened.
Days turned to weeks.
The snow came.
And with it, silence.
The Hei Lin San Sect, Fuzi Xion Clan, Linyan Clan, Meilen Clan, Yanlong Clan, and even the distant Xuemo Sect...
all were buried under vast blankets of white.
Wherever the eye wandered, it found only falling snow, frozen earth, and an eerie quiet.
Stillness stretched into every crevice, curled around every tree, clung to every rooftop.
It was not death, no. But it was not quite life either.
The markets of the Xuemo Sect, and the other clans, still buzzed with activity during the day.
Even the Hei Lin San Sect retained its festive glow.
The Legacy of Peach Blossom Academy continued its teachings as always.
Yu Sui and Mo Yan trained daily....meditated, practiced sword forms, and spent what time they could together.
The city markets roared with noise by day, and hushed to quiet lullabies by night.
But even then...
Something was off.
Not wrong...not yet.....but off.
Perhaps this peace was not peace at all.
Perhaps, it was a warning.
A whisper from the world, a soft voice in the wind that always comes before the storm.
Just as the sea stills before a tsunami…
Just as the birds vanish before thunder breaks the sky…
Somewhere, in some hidden corner of the world.....
A storm was being born.