Chapter 2
The city of bells was alive with sound.
Every hour, great bronze gongs echoed from the hilltop pagodas, their resonance spilling through the streets like ripples across a still pond. Pilgrims knelt at every corner, bowing before towering statues of the Buddha, their foreheads pressed against the stone until skin tore and bled. Incense curled upward in gray streams, blurring the golden rooftops into a hazy dream of piety.
Nyxen tightened the folds of his plain monk's robe. The disguise felt suffocating in this place. Every face he passed was shaved clean, every pair of eyes heavy with doctrine, every step measured in ritual. Yet he walked among them as if he belonged, his crimson-silver gaze hidden beneath the shadow of a bamboo hat.
This city reeks of devotion… and something beneath it.
The deeper he moved through Holy Bell City, the more he saw cracks between the gilded walls. The monks preached humility but walked with jeweled prayer beads. The temples welcomed all travelers but sold blessings for gold. For every whisper of salvation, there was a shadow of corruption.
Still, he could not afford to stir trouble. His disguise had to hold.
He reached the plaza at the heart of the city. At its center rose the Great Lotus Bell, a colossal bronze artifact said to ring only when touched by one of purest heart. Hundreds of pilgrims crowded before it, their chants weaving into a single drone of devotion.
And there—among the kneeling crowd—stood a lone figure.
She was tall, her frame slender but firm beneath a monk's robe of gray and white. Unlike the others, her head was not shaven. Instead, a long braid of black-and-gray hair spilled down her back, shimmering faintly in the incense smoke. Her hands pressed together in prayer, but her expression was not one of rigid ritual. It was soft, innocent—like a child who believed the bell might truly answer.
Nyxen stopped. Something about her felt… wrong. No—not wrong. Different.
When the crowd rose, she stayed behind, gazing at the bell as though waiting for something. Then her eyes flicked toward him.
For an instant, their gazes met—his crimson-silver hidden behind shadow, her pure gray-black shimmering with quiet curiosity.
She walked toward him.
"You," she said softly, voice carrying through the bustle like clear water over stone. "You walk with the step of a monk, but your aura trembles like a storm."
Nyxen stiffened beneath the robe. "…And what of it?"
Her lips curved in the faintest smile. "Do not be afraid. I won't ask your name. We all wander for different reasons. Some hide, some seek. But all paths cross here, under the bell."
She pressed her palms together, bowing lightly.
"I am Lianhua, disciple of the Silent Lotus Temple. I'm only passing through the city before returning to the outer provinces. If you're wandering… shall we walk together?"
Nyxen's heart skipped. Her words were innocent, her offer simple, but it was dangerous. Traveling together meant risk. She might sense what he truly was.
Yet… if I refuse, I stand alone. And perhaps…
He studied her eyes again. Clear, without deceit. If she hid anything, it was only inexperience, not corruption.
"…Very well," he said at last. "Only for a time."
Her smile brightened—not like a worldly woman's smile, but the faint warmth of a lantern in fog. "Then may the bells witness our journey."
They left the plaza together. The crowd melted behind them, replaced by quiet alleys lined with shrines and worn prayer flags.
Nyxen kept his silence, watching her from the corner of his vision. She walked with calm rhythm, not forcing speech, not prying into him. A true monk's stride—measured, peaceful. Yet there was something in the way she looked at the world: every statue, every passerby, every cracked stone of the road. She saw beauty where others saw nothing.
Finally, she spoke.
"You are not from this city."
"No."
"Your steps are heavier than theirs. You've fought."
"…Perhaps."
She tilted her head, braid swaying like dark silk. "The way you guard your words tells me you've also suffered. Tell me—do you seek absolution, or simply a place to rest?"
Nyxen almost laughed. Absolution? That was a luxury he abandoned long ago. But to answer truthfully would be to shatter his disguise.
"I seek… silence," he said.
Lianhua nodded slowly, as if satisfied. "Then you'll find it in the mountains. The monasteries beyond Holy Bell City are quieter than this place. If you walk with me, I'll show you."
They passed under a great archway leading out of the city's heart. Bells chimed above, their sound scattering the crows perched on the rooftops. The incense smoke thinned, replaced by the cool scent of mountain air.
For a moment, as they stepped onto the road leading north, Nyxen almost felt at ease. Almost.
But deep inside, he knew this woman was more dangerous than any blade. Not because she sought to harm him, but because her innocence was a mirror. Where she was pure, he was stained. Where she sought truth, he lived in lies.
And if she looked too closely…
His grip on his robe tightened.
The road stretched ahead, winding into the misty foothills. The journey had begun.