Chapter 8
The gates of Holy Bell City shimmered under dawn light.
To outsiders, it looked like paradise — golden spires, chanting monks, rivers flowing like liquid jade.
But to Nyxen, returning after the bloodshed in the Lotus Forest, it felt like a cage of incense and silence.
Lianhua walked beside him, her wounds covered by fresh robes of pale ash-gray.
Her hair, tied loosely now, caught the light — half black, half gray — like dusk refusing to choose between day and night.
They passed through the temple courtyard. Rows of monks knelt before statues of Buddhas carved from white stone, faces serene and smiling.
But behind those smiles, Nyxen could feel it — the same rot he'd smelled in the forest.
The same suffocating peace that hid something vile.
The Monks Who Whispered
They were taken to the Hall of Reflection, a place said to cleanse the spirit.
Lianhua bowed deeply to the elder monks, but Nyxen only lowered his head enough to pass for reverence.
One of the elders — a tall man with waxen skin and cloudy eyes — studied him too long.
"Brother," the old monk said softly, "your heart beats like thunder. Where is your peace?"
Nyxen forced a smile. "Lost it somewhere in the forest. Still looking."
The monk's pale lips twitched. "Then perhaps the Bell of Purity will find it for you."
Behind him, other monks whispered sutras, but their qi felt cold, hungry.
Lianhua didn't seem to notice. She bowed again, earnest and trusting.
Nyxen's jaw tightened. She doesn't see it. Not yet.
The Bell of Purity
At dusk, the ceremony began.
The Bell of Purity hung in the center of the hall — a massive silver bell carved with lotus petals and countless runes.
Each ring was said to wash away desire and attachment.
The monks gathered in a circle.
Lianhua stood among them, palms pressed together.
Nyxen stayed at the edge, hands tucked in his sleeves, observing.
The elder raised his staff and struck the bell.
Gong.
The sound wasn't holy. It was invasive.
It crawled beneath the skin, clawed at the mind.
Nyxen's body tensed. He felt the dual Dao within him twist violently — one side yearning to purify, the other to devour.
He looked around.
The monks' faces were serene… too serene.
Their eyes were glazed, their souls flickering like dying flames.
Lianhua's breathing slowed, her lips moving with the chant.
"Lianhua," Nyxen hissed quietly, "stop chanting."
She didn't respond.
The elder struck the bell again. Gong.
This time, Nyxen saw it — thin tendrils of gray qi seeping from each monk's crown, flowing into the bell.
Their purity was being harvested.
The Hidden Sin
Nyxen's crimson eyes snapped open fully. His disguise flared, silver and red mixing beneath the monk robes.
The bell thrummed again, feeding on the monks' devotion.
He stepped forward. "What are you doing to them?"
The elder smiled faintly. "The Bell consumes impurity to grant enlightenment. This is their offering."
"They're dying."
"They're ascending."
Nyxen's hand trembled. His temper rose like stormfire. "You're feeding them to a curse."
The elder's smile didn't fade. "And you are feeding your rage to one."
Lianhua suddenly collapsed to her knees, clutching her head.
The sound of the bell tore through her mind, making her blood hum.
"Stop it!" Nyxen shouted.
The elder raised his staff again, about to strike the bell.
In that moment, Nyxen moved — faster than sight.
His stave slammed into the bell, shattering it.
The explosion of silver shards and soul light filled the temple, sending monks flying backward.
The elder fell, robe torn, his mask of peace breaking into fury.
"You dare defile enlightenment!"
Nyxen's voice echoed like thunder. "If this is your enlightenment, then may heaven burn it with me."
Truth in Ashes
When the smoke cleared, half the monks lay unconscious, drained but alive.
Lianhua knelt among them, shaking, clutching her beads.
"Nyxen…" she whispered. "You shouldn't have done that. They'll exile you."
He smiled faintly. "Wouldn't be my first exile."
Her voice broke. "You don't understand. This temple… it's the only place left that still teaches peace."
"Peace?" he repeated. "Peace built on stolen souls?"
She froze.
He took a step closer. "You said purity was the path to ascension. But look around you. This purity is nothing but chains."
Her lips trembled. "Then what is your path?"
He looked at her, eyes reflecting both warmth and sorrow. "To love the imperfection. To feel it. To let it hurt until it becomes strength."
She looked away. "That's… dangerous."
"Everything real is."
The Fall of Holy Bell
By nightfall, word spread.
The Bell of Purity shattered, the temple's blessing broken.
Some monks called it heresy; others whispered of truth long buried.
Lianhua was summoned to the Council of Devotion for questioning.
Nyxen was forbidden to follow — so he left.
But he didn't go far. He climbed to the rooftops, sitting beneath the moon, watching incense smoke rise from the council hall.
The city looked beautiful from here — too perfect.
He wondered how much more of it was fake.
He sighed, closing his eyes. Maybe this is what it means to be a wanderer. To see the lies in every light.
Below, he could faintly hear Lianhua's voice defending him before the elders — trembling, desperate, pure.
He wanted to believe she'd be safe.
He wanted to believe purity could still mean something.
But as the temple bells rang again — hollow, echoing — he felt the truth settle in his bones.
Purity was a myth.
And he was walking straight through its grave.