The door shattered inward.
A blast of wind followed, scattering ash and dust across the temple floor. Shen Liufeng stood firm, Lin Xiyan at his side, sword drawn in a motion as fluid as breath.
And from the swirling mist stepped a man dressed in jet-black robes, silver thread coiled across the sleeves like creeping vines. His face was calm, almost handsome, but his eyes—his eyes were cold.
"Still so quick to draw your sword for him," the man said, smirking. "Touching."
Lin's grip tightened. "Fang Ziyue."
The name tasted like venom.
Once a disciple of the Jade Bell Sect, now a traitor who worked in shadows, dealing poison and secrets like weapons. Seven years ago, he had vanished without a trace—until now.
"You look surprised to see me alive," Fang said lightly, walking into the ruined hall as if it belonged to him. "Then again, you left me for dead too, didn't you, Shen Liufeng?"
Shen's brows furrowed. "We all thought you perished during the Eastern Pass ambush."
"And yet, here I am," Fang said, voice edged with mockery. "Alive. Abandoned. Forgotten." He turned his gaze to Lin. "Just like him."
Lin didn't speak.
Fang smiled, slow and cruel. "But not everything was forgotten, was it? Tell me, Xiyan, did he ever confess why he left you at Cold Ash River? Or why he vanished after that without a word?"
Shen stepped forward. "Stop it."
But Fang continued, like a dagger twisting slow.
"Did he tell you about the letter from the elders? The one that ordered your death?"
Lin blinked.
Shen froze.
Fang tilted his head. "Ah. So he didn't."
The silence was deafening.
"I intercepted it," Fang said, his voice soft. "A letter from the Grand Elder himself. 'Eliminate Lin Xiyan quietly—he knows too much about the Lotus Pact.' I thought Shen would burn it, or fight back. But no—he obeyed."
"That's a lie," Shen said through clenched teeth.
"Is it?" Fang's smile widened. "Then tell him what was in the letter."
Lin turned, his voice low. "Shen… is it true?"
Shen's jaw tensed. "There was a letter," he said. "But I never followed it. I left because I thought running was the only way to protect you."
"And you never told me?" Lin's voice cracked.
"I couldn't. If I had… you might've come back."
"Would that have been so terrible?"
Their eyes locked—hurt, confusion, and too many memories between them.
Fang watched with delight. "There it is. The fracture."
But then—Lin took a breath, and stepped forward.
His hand reached for Shen's.
And held it.
Hard.
Unshaking.
"Next time, tell me everything," Lin said, voice trembling but firm. "Even if it breaks me."
Shen closed his eyes, and nodded. "I will."
Fang's smirk slipped.
"You think this makes you strong?" he hissed. "You think love is armor?"
"No," Lin said, lifting his sword. "But it's enough to kill you."
And together, they moved.