The ruins lay silent once more, but the silence was no peace—it was suffocating, as though the shadows themselves held their breath.
Hyunjae pressed his palm against his chest, feeling the uneven rhythm of his heart. The last exchange with the masked leader had left him shaken. His qi, usually disciplined and sharp, now pulsed erratically, dark threads weaving through it. The whispers had not left him; they had only grown quieter, waiting for his weakness.
Seoyeon stood at the broken archway of the temple, her crimson ribbons fluttering in the night breeze. She did not look at him at first. Instead, she gazed outward toward the misty mountains, where faint lights from the city of Gyeongwol shimmered.
"Hyunjae," she finally said, voice low. "You fought like someone possessed. If you continue this way, it won't be the Serpent Claw who kills you."
He wanted to argue, to insist that without that forbidden flow of qi he would already be dead. But the words caught in his throat. Because deep down, he knew she was right.
Before he could respond, the ground beneath the temple shuddered. Cracks split open, and from them, a thick, metallic scent wafted up—blood. Stagnant, old, yet overwhelming.
Seoyeon drew back. "This place… it's not just ruins. It's a grave."
From the fissures rose a red mist. Within it, shapes twisted—half-formed bodies, spectral faces, wraiths of disciples who had once trained here. Their mouths opened in silent screams, eyes hollow and filled with despair.
Hyunjae's blade sang as he drew it again. "They're bound here."
The wraiths surged, their claws reaching not for flesh but for qi. Hyunjae slashed, his blade cutting through misty forms, but each strike weakened him as they drank from his energy. Seoyeon's ribbons flared brightly, burning with crimson light as she sealed off part of the fissure, forcing the wraiths back.
"Hyunjae! These are remnants of the Shadowed Lotus' Blood Veil Technique. They're feeding on our life-force. If we don't sever the source—"
Her words were cut short as one of the wraiths slammed into her chest, forcing her against the wall. Hyunjae's vision blurred red. The whispers returned, urging, tempting:
"One cut. One sacrifice. Give yourself to the shadow, and none shall harm her…"
His hands trembled on the hilt. He could feel his blade pulling at him, begging to be unshackled. The crimson veins along the steel throbbed like living arteries.
Then Seoyeon's voice, strained but fierce, reached him. "Don't you dare! If you give in now—you're no different from them!"
Her eyes, unwavering despite her pain, held his. And for a heartbeat, the whispers faltered.
Hyunjae bit down hard, the taste of blood grounding him. Instead of unleashing the shadow, he altered his flow—forcing his qi into a cycle of restraint. It was agonizing, like holding back a flood with his bare hands. But the technique worked: his blade hummed with sharp clarity, not corruption.
With one decisive strike, he carved a seal into the stone floor, cutting through the formation that anchored the Blood Veil Technique. The wraiths shrieked as the fissures sealed shut, the mist collapsing in on itself until silence once again filled the ruins.
Hyunjae collapsed to one knee, drenched in sweat. Seoyeon staggered beside him, her ribbons falling limp. For a long time, neither spoke.
Finally, Seoyeon whispered, "You resisted it."
Hyunjae let out a bitter laugh. "Barely."
But deep inside, he wondered how many more times he could.