The Silent Cliff Cells bit deep into the mountain's northern face, where winds scoured the stone raw and clouds coiled like pale serpents.
Xu Tian sat in silence, cross-legged upon the cold floor. Iron chains pinned his wrists, their runes drawing out his qi until each breath felt heavy. From the narrow slit in the wall, he could see only a slice of fractured sky, its jagged seam flickering faintly like a wound that refused to close.
He did not resist. He did not rage. He waited.
The sect thought confinement a cage, but to him, stillness was another whetstone. Each heartbeat polished intent. Each breath refined his edge.
Footsteps broke the silence. The door scraped open.
The guard's lantern threw pale light across the cell. But the figure who entered was no guard.
A woman in flowing pale robes stepped across the threshold. Her veil hid her features, yet the faint fragrance of her passing stirred the air — the unmistakable, delicate perfume of the Moon-Petal Pavilion.
Xu Tian's gaze sharpened.
The woman inclined her head. "Disciple Xu Tian." Her voice was low, smooth, carrying neither mockery nor warmth. "Your brilliance shakes the sect, but your path isolates you. Do you not fear solitude?"
"I fear nothing that can be severed," Tian said calmly.
Her veiled lips curved faintly. "So proud. Yet even a sword, no matter how sharp, shatters when it stands alone against Heaven's weight. What you cut, Heaven mends. What you defy, Heaven answers. That is the fate of your father's path."
At the mention of his father, Tian's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.
The woman stepped closer. From her sleeve, she drew a thin scroll sealed with wax shaped like a crescent moon. She held it out to him.
"This," she said softly, "was hidden in the Pavilion for years. Placed there by one who knew your father. I deliver it not for the sect, but because the Moon-Petal Pavilion… observes. We do not choose sides lightly. But perhaps your edge is one worth watching."
Xu Tian accepted the scroll without bowing. He placed it across his knees, feeling the faint warmth of hidden intent inside. "And what price does your Pavilion seek?"
The woman's laugh was like drifting petals. "No price. Only the promise of storms to come."
She turned, her steps silent. At the threshold, she paused.
"Be wary, Xu Tian. The Inquiry of Purity is not meant to test you. It is meant to end you."
The lantern dimmed as she slipped away. The fragrance lingered, soft and haunting.
Alone once more, Xu Tian broke the seal. Inside were faded pages, the ink smudged with time but unmistakably familiar. His father's handwriting.
"The Ninth Sky is no height above, but the silence beneath. To strike within it is to leave an echo that Heaven cannot bind. That echo is not sound but fate itself."
Xu Tian's breath slowed. His father had not only walked the path of severing — he had sought to leave something beyond severance.
He placed the scroll beside him, his hand resting upon his sword.
"Father… your blade was cut short. Mine will not be."
Above, thunder stirred faintly behind clouds. The fractured seam of Heaven pulsed like a warning — or an acknowledgment.