Morning mist veiled the lower slopes of the mountain.Outer-court disciples gathered at the gate, each carrying bundles, brooms, or the dull confidence of routine. Xu Pingsheng carried nothing but the gray robe on his back and the weight of two blue shards in his sleeve.
Li Yan trotted beside him, half talking, half chewing on a stalk of grass."First errand's always the worst," he said. "Yunhe Town's quiet, but the road's a thief. Last month someone lost a cart of rice."Pingsheng nodded, saying nothing. The road curved between pines, mist sliding like silk through the trunks.
They walked until the bells of Taiching were only memory. The mountain fell away into a valley stitched with fields. Far ahead, the Lantern of Yunhe glowed—steady, pale, unblinking.
Li Yan pointed. "Behaving, see? Told you."
But as they drew closer, the glow pulsed—once, twice—like a heart that had forgotten its rhythm.
Pingsheng felt the wheel behind his heart turn.A whisper crossed his skin, thin as breath: Thread drawn… consumption… imbalance…
"Do you hear that?" he asked.
"Hear what?" Li Yan frowned. "Wind?"
The road forked at a dry riverbed. A woman stood there, face veiled, holding a child too still to be asleep."Help," she said.
Li Yan stepped forward. "Ma'am, what happened—"
The child lifted its head. Its eyes were two pits of blue flame.
The woman's voice split into a hiss. Her shadow lengthened across the dust and moved against the light.
Li Yan froze. "Shade-spawn—"
Pingsheng's body moved before thought. The shards in his sleeve flared, blue light streaking between his fingers. The creature shrieked; the Lantern on the hill trembled in answer.
He saw it then—the Nether Thread, a strand of light connecting the monster to the distant Lantern, drinking the woman's years to mimic life. The same Thread that once tied him to Nanshan's doom.
"Break," he said.
The Soulwheel turned. Metal sang inside his ribs.He reached, not with hands but with will, and pulled.
The Thread snapped. Blue fire spilled into dust. The woman collapsed, breathing, the false child crumbling in her arms. Silence rushed back like water.
Li Yan gaped. "You—how—Outer Court can't—"
"Don't tell them," Pingsheng said.
"I'd rather tell them than pretend I didn't see that," Li Yan muttered, but he looked around as if Heaven might be listening.
They carried the woman to the town gate. Villagers met them with blank faces; fear had taught them to smile small. The Lantern above the square flickered again."Another thread," Pingsheng murmured.
An old keeper bowed stiffly. "It's been doing that since dawn. We sent for the Sect, but none came."
Li Yan's jaw tightened. "We're from the Sect."
"You're children," the man said, not unkindly.
Behind them, the Lantern pulsed. This time the light spilled down its chains, staining stone blue.The old man fell to his knees. "It's feeding on itself."
"Li Yan," Pingsheng said. "Get them back."
"What about you?"
He stepped toward the Lantern. The wheel in his chest spun once more, faster, louder. The shards in his sleeve burned cold.
He touched the lowest chain.Cold bit through flesh. The world narrowed to a hum.
He saw threads—dozens—some bright, some dull, all tangled through the town, binding sleepers, beasts, even the river.One thread was thick as a serpent, coiled around the Lantern's core. It turned toward him like an eye opening.
So you're the thief who stole Heaven's drink, the voice inside it whispered.Give it back.
The chain lashed. He raised his arm, instinct more than plan. The wheel turned outward, its light cutting through his sleeve in a circle of steel and flame. The chain struck; the circle met it; sparks like snow scattered.
The Thread screamed and recoiled. The Lantern's light steadied—dim, but living.When sound returned, the town was still.
Li Yan grabbed him by the shoulder. "You alive?"
"Mostly."
"You broke it."
"For now."
A bell tolled from the distant mountain. One… two… three strokes.Disciplinary summons.
Li Yan swore under his breath. "They felt that."
Pingsheng looked at the Lantern's cold glow. "Then they already know."
He turned toward the road back to Taiching Sect. In his sleeve, the shards pulsed once, faint but sure.
If Heaven decrees silence, he thought, then I will speak.
The wheel turned.
— End of Chapter 2 —