Haotian's golden eyes shone faintly as the last diagram on the Voidpiercer Sword Sutra shifted. The scroll pulsed, its script trembling before settling into a smoother, sharper pattern. For hours, he had bent his insight against it, unraveling twenty-one flaws, rewriting them one by one. Now, the sutra lay quiet—its once fragmented rhythm condensed into a seamless flow.
Haotian exhaled slowly, the light dimming from his gaze. He tapped the scroll gently."It's ready."
Across the courtyard, Lianhua froze mid-step, sword raised as the mist parted at her feet. She turned sharply, eyes gleaming. "Truly?"
He nodded. "The sutra was riddled with leaks and wasted intent. I've corrected its lines and restored its heart. Test it now—see what the art is meant to be."
Without hesitation, Lianhua sheathed her sword, then approached the table. She picked up the scroll, eyes sweeping across the newly formed glyphs. The energy within felt different—cleaner, resonant, as though the technique itself had awakened. She drew her blade with a steady breath, her pulse quickening.
She stepped back into the courtyard. The mist coiled like waiting prey. Her stance shifted—feet firm, qi centered, sword aligned with the heartline.
"Voidpiercer…" she whispered.
Her blade thrust forward.
CRACK.
The air itself split. A sharp line of distortion cut through the courtyard mist, piercing the veil of space like a needle through silk. The mist didn't scatter—it shattered, dissolving into fragments as the thrust carried pure intent straight into the void.
The recoil vanished. The waste was gone. Where once her thrusts left her chest exposed and qi bleeding, now the strike flowed like lightning through still water.
Lianhua gasped softly, her body trembling—not from strain, but from awe. She pivoted and struck again. Another crack tore through the courtyard, sharper than the first. Her thrusts grew faster, smoother, her sword moving with frightening precision.
In only fifteen minutes, she had reached minor success in the rewritten sutra.
She lowered her blade, chest rising and falling with exhilaration. Turning to Haotian, her eyes shimmered with disbelief. "…This… this is no longer the Voidpiercer Sword Art. It's—something higher."
Haotian walked to her side, his expression calm but his eyes carrying quiet pride. "No. It is still Voidpiercer. But now it is whole. The masters who created it laid the foundation, but their vision was bound by the flaws of their time. With my eyes, I can see past those walls. And with your sword, you will prove what lies beyond them."
Her lips trembled as she stared at him. In that moment, gratitude, pride, and love blended together in her chest until she could no longer contain it. She dropped her sword, crossed the courtyard, and threw her arms around him.
"Haotian…" she whispered, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "You've broken me down so many times… and yet, every time, you give me something even greater to stand on. I… I don't know how to catch up."
He lifted her chin gently, his gaze steady. "Don't chase me. Walk with me. If my eyes see the flaws, your hands will carve the path. Together, we'll make arts that no master in history could have dreamed of."
Her breath caught, and for a long moment, she simply gazed into those golden rings of light. Then, slowly, she leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss—this one not born of passion or impulse, but of recognition. The kiss of two cultivators who had chosen to walk the same road, hand in hand.
The courtyard mist settled once more, as if bowing before the birth of something new.
The morning mist lay heavy over the Azure Dragon Sky Sect, curling through stone arches and drifting across the training fields. Within the private courtyard, Lianhua stood poised, her sword gleaming faintly, her breath slow and measured.
Her steps moved in a blur, each one scattering the mist beneath her feet. Cloud-Sundering Steps flowed through her body, no longer jagged or cumbersome. Every stride carried her forward with seamless grace, each motion drawing her qi inward rather than bleeding it away. What once felt like climbing against an unseen storm now felt like flying with the wind itself.
She pivoted sharply, sword flashing. Voidpiercer Sword Sutra, rewritten by Haotian's hand, unleashed its thrust.
CRACK.
The courtyard air split open. A thin line tore across the mist, sharper and straighter than any blade could carve. She pivoted again—another thrust, another break in the void. Strike after strike followed, each thrust so refined that the aftershocks rang like echoes of heaven's gavel.
Lianhua's eyes shone with fierce joy. Her body felt lighter, her strikes truer. What had once taken her months of sweat to scrape toward had now yielded to her within hours. She was not just practicing—she was mastering.
At last, she stopped, sword lowering, chest rising and falling with steady rhythm. A sheen of sweat glimmered across her brow, but her spirit surged higher than ever. She clenched her fist in triumph. "I can feel it… I've stepped into a true threshold. Cloud-Sundering, Voidpiercer—both are mine now."
Her gaze drifted across the courtyard toward Haotian.
He sat cross-legged at the stone table, motionless, his hands resting upon his knees. His body was perfectly still, but the air around him pulsed faintly, as though the world itself had bent inward. His Eyes of the Universe glowed faintly beneath closed lids, rings turning even in meditation.
Lianhua knew he was no longer in the courtyard at all. He was deep within his inner world.
Inside the vast expanse of Haotian's consciousness, the air shimmered with countless scrolls, jade slips, and sutras hovering in an endless starry void. Each glowed with the aura of its grade, hundreds of books stacked within the libraries of his memory.
And upon each one, cracks shone like veins of shadow.
Flaws. Endless flaws.
He walked slowly among them, his steps echoing across the starry floor. Every time his eyes shifted, diagrams unfurled, techniques replayed themselves, manuals revealed their core structures. Even the most profound cultivation scriptures bared their imperfections under his gaze.
The Space Sutra: meridian compression wasted half its potential.The Time Sutra: its flow staggered against the natural rhythm of heaven.The Yin-Yang Harmonization Scripture: balance tilted toward instability after prolonged practice.Even his most cherished method, the Flames of the Primordial Sun Scripture, glowed with imperfections—small inefficiencies, hidden fractures in the flow of solar essence.
Haotian's jaw tightened. "So even the ancients who touched the edges of eternity… left cracks in their paths."
The rings of his Eyes of the Universe spun faster, brighter, illuminating every scroll in his mind. He reached for the first, grasped its flaws, and twisted them into corrected form. Words shifted, diagrams realigned, pathways smoothed.
One by one, the scrolls reshaped themselves, glowing brighter as flaws collapsed into corrected truth. His mind was aflame with effort—yet also exultant. Every correction brought a new surge of clarity, a sharper resonance with the dao itself.
He no longer sought to follow the paths of ancient masters. He was beginning to rewrite them, step by step, into something greater.
Back in the courtyard, Lianhua sheathed her sword, her face lit with quiet triumph. She looked at Haotian sitting in stillness, his aura pulsing faintly, and her heart softened.
He was not simply her lover, not simply her partner. He was something far rarer—an architect of cultivation itself, a man who could look upon heaven's so-called perfection and say, It is not enough.
And she would stand by him, carving her own sword path as he rewrote the heavens.
Two days passed like drifting wind. Within the Azure Dragon Sky Sect, whispers spread of the young woman who trained alone in the misty courtyards. Disciples claimed they saw her vanish into clouds and emerge like lightning, her thrusts splitting the air with cracks that echoed across the mountain paths. Some laughed it off as exaggeration. Others, secretly, felt a growing unease.
On the dawn of the third day, Lianhua stepped into one of the open sparring fields, sword in hand. Her robes fluttered softly, her face calm, her presence unshaken. Word had already spread that she was seeking a live opponent to test her arts. A crowd formed quickly, inner disciples and even a few core disciples gathering at the edges.
Her opponent stood across the field—a proud young cultivator of the Azure Dragon Sky Sect, one of the top-ranked core disciples. He wielded a halberd, its edge gleaming with faint inscriptions. His aura was steady, his cultivation higher than Lianhua's by nearly a full small realm.
He frowned slightly as he studied her stance. "You are new to the sect, and already you want to cross blades with me? This isn't arrogance, I hope?"
Lianhua's gaze was unwavering. "Not arrogance. Proof."
The crowd murmured. The halberd-wielder tightened his grip, then nodded curtly. "Very well. Show me your proof."
The duel began.
The halberd swept forward in a wide arc, tearing through the mist that lingered on the field. His strikes were sharp, precise, heavy enough to crush the ground beneath them. Yet Lianhua moved before the blade reached her.
Cloud-Sundering Steps.
Her body blurred, weightless. The mist parted beneath her foot, scattering into ribbons as she sidestepped the strike. In the next instant, she reappeared at his flank. The crowd gasped.
The halberd spun, its wielder adjusting quickly. But Lianhua's figure blurred again, her steps sharper, her qi gathered seamlessly. She was not simply dodging—she was dismantling his rhythm, scattering his intent as surely as she scattered the clouds.
"Impossible…" the halberd-wielder muttered, sweat already forming at his brow.
Then her sword gleamed.
Voidpiercer Sword Sutra.
Her thrust lashed forward—direct, pure, unstoppable.
CRACK.
The sound split the field. Air distorted, mist fractured, and the halberd's aura shattered as the thrust pierced straight through its defense. The young man staggered backward, his halberd arm shaking violently from the impact. The thrust had not touched flesh, but the shockwave of intent alone had rattled his meridians.
Lianhua did not stop. Her steps blurred again, Cloud-Sundering carrying her forward like lightning chasing thunder. Another thrust. Crack. Another. Crack. Each strike sharper than the last, each step scattering the mist further until the battlefield looked like a storm-torn sky.
The halberd-wielder dropped to one knee, breath ragged, weapon trembling. His eyes were wide, disbelief painted across his face. "This… this cannot be. How did you—two days… and you've reached… perfection?"
Lianhua lowered her sword, her breathing steady, her gaze calm. She did not raise her voice, but her words cut through the field.
"Because the path I walk is no longer broken. The flaws are gone. What I hold now is whole."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Then the crowd erupted—shock, awe, disbelief flooding the sparring field. Some disciples trembled, others gnashed their teeth, but none could deny what they had seen: perfection, in two days.
Lianhua sheathed her sword. She did not bask in the crowd's awe, nor respond to their whispers. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the distant library tower, where Haotian remained within his meditation, working tirelessly. Her voice was soft, almost reverent.
"This is your gift, Haotian. Your eyes see the flaws… and with them, you've given me wings."
Meanwhile, in the depths of the Azure Dragon Library, Haotian sat cross-legged before a glowing sutra. The Flames of the Primordial Sun Scripture burned before him, diagrams of blazing suns spinning across his inner world.
The flaws shone bright—leaking channels, wasteful cycles, unstable harmonization. His golden eyes flared, tearing them apart, rewriting each one.
"Even the flames of the sun… are imperfect," he murmured, his voice steady as firelight. "Then I will perfect them. I will forge the flame that no heaven can extinguish."
As Lianhua carved the battlefield with flawless steps and piercing strikes, Haotian reshaped the very scripture that bound his essence. Their paths, though different, rose together—higher and higher, toward a destiny neither the sect nor the heavens could contain.
The Azure Dragon Library was quiet again, the last ripples of Haotian's sunfire long faded. He sat cross-legged at the stone table, scrolls scattered before him like constellations, his golden eyes dimming as he poured himself into the endless work of correction. Sutra after sutra unfolded in his inner world, each flaw exposed, each line rewritten with the precision of his Eyes of the Universe.
He had just finished amending a section of the Yin-Yang Harmonization Scripture when the faint sound of footsteps touched his ears. They were light but steady, carrying with them a subtle confidence that hadn't been there before.
Haotian opened his eyes.
Lianhua stood in the doorway, sword in hand, strands of hair clinging to her cheek with sweat. Her chest rose and fell quickly, though her expression was calm. The faint murmurs from disciples outside suggested she had drawn more eyes than she intended during her spar.
"You've returned," Haotian said softly, straightening.
Her lips curved into a smile as she approached. "I tested the Cloud-Sundering and Voidpiercer against a live opponent." She set her sword gently against the wall before sitting across from him at the table. "It was flawless. Every strike landed as though the technique had been waiting for me all along. He couldn't withstand it for more than a dozen exchanges."
Her eyes shimmered with a mix of pride and wonder. "The crowd was shocked, but I wasn't. Not after what you did."
Haotian studied her for a moment, then allowed himself a rare smile. "So you've reached perfect success."
She nodded. "Yes. In only two days. It would have taken me years without you."
He leaned back slightly, exhaling. "Then it wasn't wasted. While you sparred, I corrected the Flames of the Primordial Sun Scripture."
Lianhua's eyes widened. "You did? That scripture was already one of the strongest—what more could you change?"
Haotian's gaze burned faintly as he recounted, "Its fire cycles leaked qi, its harmonization faltered in balance, its channels wore the body with every stage. I stripped those flaws away. When I cultivated it…" He paused, his hand tightening slightly on the table. "…it tempered my body in primordial flames. There was no pain. Only comfort, as though basking in a divine sauna. After ten minutes I reached minor success. After forty, major success."
Lianhua's breath caught. "…Forty minutes?"
He nodded once. "Yes. My body is stronger now. My blood feels like molten steel, my bones like tempered ore. Even my qi flows sharper than before. It is no longer the scripture of the ancients—it is mine now. Reforged."
For a long moment, she simply stared at him, her heart beating faster. The man before her was no longer simply cultivating. He was dismantling the heavens' teachings and remaking them with his own hands.
Her voice softened, filled with both awe and affection. "Haotian… you're walking a path no one else has dared."
He met her gaze, steady and unflinching. "Then walk with me. You've proven you can wield perfection. I'll make sure you always have it in your hands."
Her cheeks warmed, but she didn't turn away this time. She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers, fingers firm. "Always."
The lanterns above flickered, casting golden light over them both. The scrolls waited patiently, flaws glowing faintly in Haotian's sight. But for this moment, they set the work aside, content to share their victories before stepping once more onto the path of rewriting destiny.
The lanterns flickered gently in the library chamber, casting their glow across the table where Haotian and Lianhua sat. The scrolls lay between them, silent, but Haotian's eyes—still faintly glimmering with the golden rings of the Eyes of the Universe—studied her as though measuring more than just her joy from the spar.
At length, he broke the silence. His tone was calm, yet layered with something deeper.
"Lianhua," he asked, "do you want to learn the other elements as well?"
Her brows knitted in confusion. "Other elements? Haotian… what do you mean?"
He leaned back slightly, folding his hands as he explained. "Since we were children, you've been by my side. You saw me building our residence, arranging the courtyards, planting herbs in seemingly odd patterns. That wasn't just for beauty, or for my own cultivation environment. It was a formation."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"I had a theory," he continued. "That herbs infused with elemental qi could gradually reshape a cultivator's body, broadening affinities beyond their natural birth element. Most said it was impossible—that one's affinity was locked at birth. But I refused to accept that."
Her lips parted slowly as the truth struck her. "…So all those herbs you grew around yourself, all those gardens you designed into formations… That was the reason?"
Haotian's smile curved, warm and certain. "Yes. You lived with me, trained with me, ate, slept, and breathed beside me. Day after day, year after year, you were surrounded by the elemental qi I drew from those herbs. You weren't forced to take anything—you simply absorbed it, like air. Your body adapted, accepted, and eventually harmonized."
Her hand trembled slightly as she placed it against her chest, feeling the quiet thrum of her qi within. "So… that's why. That's why whenever I trained near you, I always felt… different. Stronger."
Haotian nodded. "Exactly. Now, after years of constant exposure, your body has completed the transformation. You have a Nine Elemental Body, the same as I do."
Lianhua froze, eyes wide. "The same… as you?"
His gaze softened. "Yes. On par with mine. Even the generals, the soldiers, the servants in the Zhenlong household—all of them absorbed elemental qi because I structured the residence and the army's camps with those herb formations. Every one of them now carries nine affinities. But among them, yours is the most complete. Because you were with me the longest. You've reached a level that even they cannot touch."
Lianhua stared at him, her sword hand falling slack at her side. Her breath came quickly, her heart hammering as the truth settled. "So all this time… you weren't just shaping yourself. You were shaping me too."
Haotian's smile deepened, his tone calm but unshakable. "Of course. You are not my shadow, Lianhua. You are my equal. I made sure of it."
Her lips trembled, and for a long moment she could not find words. Then she straightened, eyes gleaming with fierce determination. "…Then teach me. If I truly have this Nine Elemental Body, I want to wield it properly. I don't want to follow behind you—I want to walk beside you."
Haotian's eyes flared, the golden rings glowing bright. "Good. Then from today onward, you will no longer train as a single-element swordswoman. You will train as one who carries the ninefold dao within her veins."
The lanterns flickered higher, stirred by the weight of their vow. And in that chamber of scrolls, two hearts bound since childhood stepped yet deeper into the path of heaven, no longer two streams running side by side—but one river, carrying nine elements in its flow.
The library was quiet but alive with a hum that seemed to deepen whenever Haotian and Lianhua sat together. Parchment and jade slips glowed faintly in the lamplight, but the air carried the subtle weight of something greater—destiny shifting as the two carved their paths forward.
Haotian reached into his sleeve and withdrew a thin scroll, its bindings wrapped with golden thread. The parchment pulsed faintly with heat, the glyphs on its surface glowing like embers under ash. He slid it across the stone table toward her.
"This," he said calmly, "is the corrected Flames of the Primordial Sun Scripture. The same scripture that reshaped my body only days ago."
Lianhua blinked, her fingers hovering over the scroll. "You… made a copy?"
He shook his head slightly. "Not a copy. A version meant for you. I have rewritten the channels and meridian cycles to match your flow. You can cultivate it without resistance. Once you refine it, your fire affinity will be as pure as mine."
Her lips parted in awe, eyes flickering between him and the scroll. She slowly took it in her hands, the warmth seeping into her palms. For a moment, she simply stared at it, struck by the weight of his gift. "Haotian… this scripture alone could make kingdoms rise or fall. And you're giving it to me so casually?"
His golden eyes softened. "Not casually. With purpose. You are me, and I am you. There is no reason to withhold anything."
Her heart trembled, but she pressed the scroll to her chest and nodded. "Then I'll cultivate it. I'll carry this fire alongside you."
Haotian inclined his head, then closed his eyes once more. The golden rings of the Eyes of the Universe awakened, this time not fixed on flame—but on the duality that underpinned every existence.
The Yin-Yang Harmonization Method hovered before him, an ancient scripture that many had revered but few had perfected. Diagrams of moonlight and sunlight twined and clashed across the scroll, streams of energy forming spirals that collapsed under their own imbalance. To most cultivators, it was a miracle simply to endure the practice. To Haotian's eyes, it was riddled with fractures.
"The yin spiral bleeds into the yang cycle after twelve circulations," he murmured, his voice low but sharp. "The harmonization falters after prolonged practice. Balance is spoken, but imbalance is what grows."
The flaws glowed like threads of darkness. Haotian's mind began to pull them apart, weaving new lines where old ones failed. The yin currents were adjusted, their flow deepened into softer spirals. The yang currents were redirected, their bursts tempered by return paths. Slowly, moonlight and sunlight began to dance as equals, not rivals.
This was no mere correction of efficiency—it was essential. He knew it clearly.
"If we are to wield the Nine Elemental Bodies fully, the eight foundational elements must melt into one another without conflict. Yin and yang are the roots of all. If they are unstable, then every merger will collapse before reaching unity."
His hands formed subtle seals, guiding the corrected streams into his inner world. Black and white, sun and moon, yin and yang—they spiraled around his golden flames, layering into harmony. Where once there had been grinding tension, now there was gentle flow, like a tide drawn by the sun and moon in concert.
Lianhua, sitting across from him, unrolled her scroll and began to breathe in the rhythm of the Flames of the Primordial Sun. Already, heat began to shimmer faintly around her, her qi resonating with the corrected flows. She glanced at him once, catching the glow of both gold and silver in his eyes as the yin and yang merged. Her chest tightened, her grip on the scroll firming.
He's not only forging himself. He's reshaping the path of cultivation itself. And he's pulling me along with him.
The air grew heavier, hotter, sharper. Flames coiled at one end of the chamber, yin and yang spirals pulsed at the other. Between them, Haotian and Lianhua sat, united in silence, their cultivation reshaping into something the world had never known.
The chamber glowed with twin lights. On one side, flames curled upward in golden-red arcs, wrapping around Lianhua like the embrace of a newborn sun. On the other, the yin-yang spirals Haotian shaped pulsed in alternating silver and gold, rising and falling like tides bound to his breath.
They sat facing one another across the stone table, yet the resonance between them bound their cultivation as tightly as flesh and blood.
Lianhua clutched the scroll of the Flames of the Primordial Sun Scripture, her breaths aligning with its cycles. At first, the fire inside her burned erratically, stuttering as it tried to settle into unfamiliar patterns. Sweat dampened her brow, but she pressed on.
Then the scroll pulsed.
The corrected flow Haotian had crafted guided her qi like gentle hands, steering flames into channels that once would have resisted. Instead of tearing at her meridians, the fire soothed them, tempering without harm.
Warmth… like when I stand beside him.
Her veins glowed faintly, light spreading through her body in rivers. With every cycle, the fire condensed, becoming purer, steadier. Her skin flushed with heat, but not the burning agony other cultivators often suffered. This fire welcomed her.
After half an hour, the flames around her stabilized. Her aura pulsed with steady warmth—minor success.
Another half hour passed, and the flames deepened, fusing into her blood and marrow. Her entire body gleamed faintly, as though lit from within by a sacred furnace. The heat around her bent the very air, making the chamber shimmer. Major success.
Her eyes snapped open, glowing like embers. She inhaled, then exhaled a thin plume of golden flame that burned the air silently before fading. She looked at Haotian, awe and wonder etched across her face.
Across from her, Haotian's golden eyes blazed with silver rings as well. The Yin-Yang Harmonization Method pulsed inside his body, black and white streams flowing through his meridians like paired dragons.
At first, they clashed. Yin resisted the pull of Yang, Yang blazed against the calm of Yin. His body shuddered under the strain. But his corrections held firm—the flows redirected, tempered, harmonized.
The two forces began to circle each other instead of colliding, every cycle smoother than the last. The balance deepened until Yin fed into Yang, and Yang returned strength to Yin.
Then something greater stirred.
His body, already tempered by the Flames of the Primordial Sun, accepted the balance seamlessly. The Yin cooled the raging sunfire within, preventing excess. The Yang ignited the quiet darkness, keeping it from stagnation. Where once the Nine Elemental Body risked collapse from its vastness, now it found a stable core.
His chest rose and fell as he whispered, "Perfect harmony."
Light and shadow flickered across his skin, merging into one seamless glow. For the first time, his Nine Elemental Body resonated in true balance, its foundation no longer fragile, but unshakable.
The flames around Lianhua dimmed into a steady corona, while the Yin-Yang spirals within Haotian's body settled into calm radiance. Both opened their eyes at the same time, their gazes locking.
Lianhua's lips trembled. "Haotian… this scripture… it feels like it was written for me. The fire didn't hurt at all. It welcomed me."
Haotian nodded slowly, voice low and steady. "That's the power of perfection. Flawed scriptures temper with agony, breaking cultivators before they succeed. Corrected ones… they temper as naturally as breathing. You've already reached major success. In less than an hour."
Her eyes widened, then softened with warmth. "And you? Your aura… it feels different."
Haotian exhaled. "The Yin and Yang have fused. No more imbalance. This body… is ready to carry all nine elements together."
For a long moment, the only sound was their breathing. Lianhua reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his hand. "Then we truly are walking side by side now."
He closed his fingers over hers, the golden and silver light in his eyes reflecting in her ember-glow gaze. "Always."
The chamber pulsed once, as though the heavens themselves acknowledged the vow.
The library grew quieter still. Scrolls hovered before Haotian in his inner world, their glowing diagrams suspended against the boundless void of his mind. Each represented an elemental scripture—water, wood, lightning, metal, wind, and earth—each one revered for centuries, each one riddled with flaws invisible to any eye but his.
One by one, he opened them.
The Water Sutra showed its errors quickly: circulation patterns that dispersed qi too broadly, wasting the current's natural cohesion. Haotian rewove them into seamless streams. The Wood Scripture sagged under excessive growth cycles, bloated with inefficiencies; he trimmed it, redirected its vitality. The Lightning Method was volatile, surging wildly with destructive bursts; he bound it with stabilizing flows, keeping its power sharp but controlled.
Hours passed like moments. The scrolls corrected themselves beneath his will, their flaws collapsing into unity. His inner world glowed with six flawless sutras, each one pulsing in resonance with his Nine Elemental Body.
But then he turned his gaze to the Light Sutra.
Its glyphs shimmered like radiant gold, forming pathways that illuminated his inner world with clarity. Yet even as he examined its flaws, another realization struck him. Light, by nature, demanded balance. For his fire, he had tempered it with water. For yin, he had paired yang. But for light…
There was no shadow. No darkness.
His eyes narrowed.
The diagrams flickered, unstable, precisely because their counterpart was missing. The Light Sutra's flaw was not only internal—it was incomplete.
He closed his eyes, murmuring, "To merge nine elements, I must have balance. Yin and Yang, Fire and Water, Earth and Wind, Metal and Wood… and Light with Dark. But I do not have darkness."
For the first time, his Eyes of the Universe faltered, unable to project a correction. Without the dark element, the balance could never be perfected.
Haotian exhaled slowly, opening his eyes in the real world. The chamber was still bathed in Lianhua's steady warmth, her aura humming with the fire she had cultivated. She looked up from her meditation, immediately catching the heaviness in his gaze.
"What is it?" she asked gently.
He folded his hands, leaning back. "The Nine Elemental Body is not yet whole. I can correct the other sutras, refine the flows—but without the shadow element, there will always be imbalance. The light burns too purely without opposition."
Lianhua frowned softly. "Shadow… But that element is so rare. Even in the Burning Sun Sect, I only heard rumors of cultivators who possessed it. And most of them…" Her voice dropped, "…were feared. Hunted."
Haotian's eyes glimmered with resolve. "Yes. The world rejects darkness, but it is as much a truth of heaven as light. Without it, light blinds itself. If I cannot find and master the shadow element, the Ninefold Path will remain incomplete."
The silence stretched between them. Then Lianhua reached across, touching his hand. "Then we'll find it. No matter how rare, no matter how forbidden—if it exists, it will be yours. Ours."
Haotian studied her for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "You say that so easily."
She returned the smile, her eyes steady. "That's because I'm not afraid. Not when it's with you."
The lanterns flickered, the flames dimming and brightening as if echoing their words.
In his heart, Haotian knew this was the first true roadblock in his quest for perfection. The missing shadow element was not merely a resource to be found—it was a forbidden dao, one that could draw the gaze of enemies beyond the sect. But his path demanded nothing less.
"Very well," he murmured, eyes narrowing with golden fire. "If heaven denies me darkness, I will take it myself."