Chapter 7
The Lotus Forest was dying.
What was once a sanctuary of gold leaves and tranquil streams was now a scarred graveyard.
Ash coated every petal. The wind smelled of iron.
Nyxen and Lianhua moved through the gloom in silence, guided only by the faint pulse of their qi.
Every few steps, Nyxen coughed blood. The crimson marks from the Sutra had spread up his neck like veins of molten metal.
Lianhua noticed—but said nothing. She simply walked beside him, holding her prayer beads tighter.
The Beast Beneath the Roots
At dusk, they found the source of the corruption.
A shrine lay half-buried beneath the roots of an enormous withered lotus tree. Black ichor dripped from its branches.
Something moved inside the roots.
At first, Nyxen thought it was wind. Then came the sound—a thousand whispers, merging into one.
> "Monks… flesh of devotion… feed us your peace."
The air split open.
A massive creature crawled out, its form half-human, half-flower.
Dozens of hands grew from its stem, each holding a monk's prayer bell that jingled with hollow laughter.
Lianhua froze, her voice barely a whisper.
"Spirit of the Lost Devotees… it shouldn't exist anymore."
Nyxen raised his stave, qi trembling. "Then we'll make sure it doesn't."
Clash of the Bells
The creature moved first.
Its bells clanged out a melody of despair that cracked the trees.
Sound became blade.
Waves of invisible qi tore through the clearing, slicing bark and stone alike.
Nyxen countered, spinning his stave, forming a barrier of intertwining black and white light.
It held—but barely.
Lianhua stepped forward, her prayer beads glowing like moons.
"Lotus Sutra, Verse Three—Purification Chant!"
Golden runes shot outward, wrapping the beast.
But the corruption laughed, devouring the light.
"Purity cannot chain hunger," it hissed.
It flung its bells, each one exploding like thunder.
Nyxen leapt forward, shielding Lianhua. The explosion sent him flying into a tree, the bark splintering beneath his body.
"Nyxen!" she screamed.
Blood poured down his arm. His breath came ragged.
Yet his crimson eyes still gleamed. "I told you—stay behind me."
The Flowriver Awakens
The creature lunged again.
Nyxen's qi flickered, unstable. He could feel the Sutra of Crimson Emotion boiling inside him, demanding release.
He closed his eyes for a moment—and saw her.
Not the beast.
Not his reflection.
Lianhua.
The way she had smiled at him when he saved her. The way she feared for him.
That emotion—soft, pure, and painful—was what the Sutra sought.
He opened his eyes, whispering, "Then burn for me."
Red and white light spiraled around him. The Flowriver Sword Intent took form—pure, balanced, but streaked with crimson veins.
His stave became a blade of light.
He dashed forward.
Each swing sang like thunder.
Each strike cracked the world.
The beast shrieked, its bells shattering one by one.
"Impossible," it howled. "Your Dao is corrupted—how can it pierce me?"
Nyxen spat blood. "Because I don't run from what I am."
He struck once more—Finger of the Flowriver.
A streak of crimson brilliance ripped through the monster's core.
Its scream echoed through the forest, fading into dust and silence.
Blood and Stillness
When the dust settled, Nyxen dropped to one knee, gasping. His arm was broken, and his chest burned with dark qi.
Lianhua rushed to him, pressing her glowing palms over his wounds.
"Stop talking," she said softly. "You've already lost too much."
Her light was warm—soothing—but faint. Even her qi was faltering.
"Your hands are shaking," he murmured. "You'll drain yourself."
"I don't care."
Her voice cracked. For the first time, there was emotion in it—fear.
He looked up. Her eyes were wet, her gray-black hair tangled by battle.
In that ruined forest, surrounded by death, she looked heartbreakingly human.
He smiled faintly. "You're trembling. Monks aren't supposed to tremble."
She bit her lip. "Then maybe I'm not a good monk."
Silence. The kind that felt like confession.
Shelter in the Ruins
They found a small stone temple buried beneath roots—a forgotten shrine of the old order.
There, Nyxen collapsed fully.
Lianhua tore strips from her robes to bind his wounds. She worked in silence, her hands gentle, her breath uneven.
He watched her in the flicker of the lantern. "You're too kind."
She shook her head. "Kindness isn't a choice. It's what's left when faith breaks."
He chuckled weakly. "That sounds like something I'd say."
"Then maybe you're not as lost as you think."
Her words struck him deeper than any blade.
When she finally looked up, their eyes met—hers, trembling with unspoken warmth; his, reflecting both longing and guilt.
For the first time, Nyxen understood what the Sutra truly meant by Smell of Beauty.
Not lust. Not desire.
But the fragile ache of something that could never be.
Night Thoughts
Outside, the bells of the city were distant echoes.
Lianhua sat beside him, her robes torn, her hands stained with blood.
"Nyxen," she said softly. "Why do you fight like that? As if your life means nothing?"
He looked toward the cracked ceiling.
"Because it doesn't—not yet."
She frowned. "That's not true. Every life has worth."
"Maybe yours does."
Her lips parted, words lost.
He smiled faintly. "You have something to believe in. I only have something to prove."
Silence again. Then she whispered, "You're wrong. You believe in something too. You just don't call it faith."
"…And what do I call it then?"
Her gaze lowered. "Sorrow."
The Lotus of Blood
When dawn broke, they stepped outside. The forest had begun to heal.
From the ashes, a single crimson lotus bloomed.
Its petals shimmered with both blood and light.
Lianhua touched it gently. "A blood lotus… it means a spirit has been freed."
Nyxen looked at it quietly. "Or that someone's pain took root."
The breeze carried the faint scent of the flower—sweet and sharp.
Lianhua turned to him. "We'll return to the city soon. You need rest."
He nodded. But his gaze lingered on the lotus, its red glow reflecting in his eyes.
The smell was intoxicating.
Maybe this was what he had been seeking—the Smell of Beauty.
But when he reached out to touch it, the petals withered instantly.
He closed his fist. "Not yet," he murmured.
That night, as they walked back through the silent forest, Lianhua looked at him one last time.
"You scare me sometimes," she admitted.
"Why?"
"Because I don't know if you'll save me… or destroy yourself trying."
Nyxen smiled faintly, eyes on the stars. "Maybe both."