The chamber echoed with footsteps.
Blades gleamed under the faint glow of soulstone shards. Hooded figures emerged from every tunnel—silent, coordinated, deadly. Their eyes bore the same mark: a crescent-shaped burn, glowing faintly like embers under skin.
Chu Yunzheng leaned toward Feiyue. "Just once, I'd like a secret cult to be incompetent."
Feiyue didn't answer. She was scanning the crowd, gaze sharp. Counting exits. Judging stances. Calculating probabilities.
The man in the silver sash stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ren Hui, Seer of the Crescent Flame."
Feiyue raised an eyebrow. "A seer who walks into a trap with all his minions? That's bold."
Ren Hui chuckled. "Who said you're the ones who laid the trap?"
Chu's eyes flicked to the ceiling. "I'm just saying—if rocks start falling, I'm suing someone."
Ren Hui lifted a hand.
Instantly, the cloaked figures stopped, blades lowering in perfect synchronicity. It was a show of discipline. A warning.
"You two," Ren Hui said, "are interfering in forces you barely comprehend. This mine was sacred ground once. Now it is a whisper in the dark. And yet, here you are—invoking the old blood."
He looked at Feiyue.
"You have no idea what your heritage truly means, do you?"
Feiyue didn't flinch. "That's why I'm here. To learn. To reclaim. And to burn your lies to ash."
Ren Hui's smile didn't fade, but something shifted in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps. Or recognition.
"You're braver than the last one," he murmured.
Feiyue's hand twitched near her blade. "The last one?"
He said nothing.
Chu stepped forward. "Listen, 'Ren Hui'—fancy name, great robes. But unless you're going to offer tea and cookies, we're leaving."
"Not yet," Ren Hui said.
He waved his hand—and the room dimmed. The light from the soulstones flickered, then coalesced into a floating image between them.
It was the Tianji Scroll.
But not the one from Feiyue's vision. This one glowed gold and crimson, shifting endlessly as though alive. Along its surface were three broken glyphs—matching the shard Feiyue had used to unlock the statue.
"The Vault exists," Ren Hui said quietly. "And you hold one of its keys."
Feiyue stepped closer. "You've been looking for it."
"For centuries. We all have."
He made a small gesture—and the soulstone projection faded.
Ren Hui walked toward a stone bench, seated himself as if this were merely a casual conversation.
"You're not our enemies, Lady Sitori. Nor you, Yunzheng. Not yet. But you're treading on holy ground. The Vault was sealed for a reason."
Chu frowned. "Let me guess. Power too great for mortal hands?"
Ren Hui smiled thinly. "A truth older than kingdoms."
Feiyue folded her arms. "Then why are you trying to find it?"
A pause.
Ren Hui leaned forward. "Because balance must be broken… before it can be reborn."
He extended a scroll toward her—a black seal, unbroken.
"A pact," he said. "Temporary. An alliance. You give us your shard. We give you the next clue, and a name—the one who betrayed your people."
Chu stared at the seal. "This is the part where you offer us candy and betray us later, right?"
Feiyue ignored him. "If I refuse?"
"Then we take it. By force. And bury you beneath this mine like the others."
She took the scroll. Studied it. Her fingers brushed the seal.
And then—she smiled.
But it wasn't warmth. It was calculation.
She looked at Chu.
He nodded slightly. A signal. Trust me.
Feiyue turned to Ren Hui. "Very well. We agree. Temporarily."
The scroll vanished into her sleeve.
Ren Hui inclined his head. "Wise choice. You'll find the next clue in the Temple of Hollow Sky."
He turned to go.
But as he passed Chu, the younger man said, almost lazily, "One more thing."
Ren Hui turned. "Yes?"
Chu pointed up. "You might want to step back."
Ren Hui frowned.
Then the ceiling exploded.
Dust and stone rained down. Figures scattered. Chaos erupted.
Feiyue grabbed Chu's wrist. "You rigged the elevator?"
He grinned as they bolted for the tunnel. "Just a little delay spell on the supports. Took me all morning."
They ducked falling rock, dodged stunned cultists, and made for the upper shaft. Feiyue twisted mid-run, sending a pulse of energy back through her soulstone shard—collapsing the corridor behind them.
They didn't stop running until daylight cracked through the mine's broken archway.
Outside, the air was sharp with pine and freedom.
Feiyue doubled over, panting.
Chu flopped onto the grass, arms spread.
"Next time," he wheezed, "we meet them at a teahouse."
Feiyue looked at him—really looked—and laughed. A short, surprised burst of sound.
He blinked. "Was that... joy?"
"Momentary," she said. "Don't get used to it."
But her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than necessary.
He noticed.
And smiled.