The moon hung low, a thin crescent slicing the black sky like a blade itself. Mo Lianyin walked from the battlefield with the Blade of Forgotten Names resting at his side, though it did not hang like any other weapon. The chain that bound its hilt coiled into his flesh, a cold serpent etched into his veins.
Each step he took, the world felt… quieter. Not peaceful, but hollow. When the wind brushed the long grass, it no longer carried voices of insects or distant rivers. It was as though the sword silenced the world around him.
Yet silence was dangerous. In that absence, whispers filled the void.
— Lianyin.
— Do you remember me?
— You swore an oath once. You swore to protect me.
The voices came not from his enemies, but from those he had buried within his heart. His master. His brother. That single face he could never bear to bind to the Severance. Each syllable struck like a phantom hand, testing the edges of his will.
He tightened his grip on Silent Ash in his right hand, and the Blade of Forgotten Names in his left pulsed as though amused.
The path ahead curved into the foothills, where black pines rose like spires against the night. Between their trunks, faint lights flickered—lanterns carried by figures cloaked in red. The Crimson Lotus Court.
He stopped.
So Zevian Vale's warning had not been a lie. They had indeed moved toward the Inner Sanctum, their formation winding like a serpent across the mountain's spine. The air stank of burning incense and blood.
Drawing his cloak tighter, Lianyin whispered to himself:
"They cannot be allowed to reach it. Not while I still breathe."
The Blade hummed, resonating with his vow. And suddenly, the shadows of the pines stretched unnaturally long, creeping across the ground to coil at his feet. His own shadow twitched and split, forming into a second silhouette beside him.
It looked like him—his frame, his hair, even the long fall of his robe—but its face was smooth, blank, featureless.
He staggered back. "What trick—?"
The shadow tilted its head, then spoke in a voice that was his own, yet hollowed out:
"You wield me now. And I wield you. Together, we are nameless."
For the first time since grasping the blade, a tendril of fear pierced his chest. But the Crimson Lotus were moving. There was no time for doubt.
Lianyin clenched his jaw, then whispered, "If you are me, then fight as I fight."
The shadow gave no answer—yet when he leapt forward into the trees, it followed like a second blade unsheathed.
---
The first squad of Crimson Lotus disciples never saw him. A blur, a crack of steel, and their lanterns fell shattered into the moss. Blood sprayed the trunks, swallowed instantly by the roots.
Yet when Lianyin turned, the shadow was already moving ahead, cutting down another before his blade had finished dripping. Silent Ash cleaved the air, but the faceless double's weapon was darker—the Blade of Forgotten Names itself, wielded in perfect mimicry.
And with each strike, those disciples did not die. They were erased. Their bodies collapsed to dust before they could scream, their names vanishing from the whispers of Heaven.
Mo Lianyin's heart clenched. Was this the sword's true gift? Not victory—obliteration.
He pressed forward, faster. If he hesitated, the shadow would consume the battle without him.
---
By the time they reached the rear of the Crimson Lotus column, only the commander remained—a tall woman draped in blood-red silks, her eyes hidden behind a veil of silver chains. She turned slowly, her hands raised in graceful poise.
"So it is true," she murmured. "The Severance child has taken the Forgotten Blade. How many will vanish from the scrolls tonight?"
Her voice carried a strange resonance. Behind her, the trees warped, the pine needles bleeding into scarlet blossoms that filled the night air with a metallic perfume.
Mo Lianyin halted, his shadow double circling at his side. His breath misted, his body still burning with forbidden qi.
"Leave now," he said, voice rough. "Or be struck from this world."
The veiled commander tilted her head, then laughed softly. "You think Heaven will thank you for cleansing their enemies? No. They will curse you. You cut away names, but soon it will be your own you cannot remember."
The Blade of Forgotten Names pulsed violently at her words, chains biting deeper into his arm. His vision blurred. For an instant, he forgot why he had come, why the Seal mattered.
"No," he growled, forcing himself back to clarity. "I will remember enough to destroy you."
The commander spread her arms. Petals of crimson light erupted into the air, swirling into a storm. Behind her veil, two eyes opened—burning red, like twin moons dripping with blood.
The battle began.
---
He and his shadow moved as one, striking from twin angles. Silent Ash cut through the storm of blossoms, cleaving light into fragments, while the shadow's Blade of Forgotten Names cut deeper, erasing the very petals from existence.
But the commander was no fool. With every step she shifted, her silks flowing like rivers of blood, her chains lashing out to bind his limbs. Her voice rang like bells, each note threatening to unravel his concentration.
"Mo Lianyin," she whispered through the clash. "Your master is dead. Your brother is dust. Whom do you fight for?"
The question struck like a spear. His sword faltered for a heartbeat.
The shadow double surged ahead, blade plunging toward her chest—yet the commander caught it with her bare hand, her blood hissing against its cursed edge.
She smiled behind the veil. "If your shadow fights harder than you, then perhaps it deserves the blade. Not you."
The chain around Lianyin's arm burned hotter, the Blade tugging toward its other self. His double turned, faceless gaze boring into him, as if measuring his worth.
And for the first time, Mo Lianyin felt the truth:
The shadow was not a servant.
It was a rival.
---