The silence stretched like a drawn bowstring, taut and ready to snap. Ye Taxian's heart hammered against her ribs as she remained frozen, the child still wrapped in her crimson threads. The presence behind her was suffocating—like standing at the edge of an abyss where even light feared to tread.
"Turn around."
The voice was calm, almost conversational, yet it carried the weight of mountains. Ye Taxian's body moved without her consent, pivoting slowly until she faced the source of that terrible pressure.
Meng Xie stood three paces away, his form cutting a stark silhouette against the pre-dawn sky. He appeared no older than twenty-five, with features carved from marble and eyes like frozen starlight. His hair fell in a cascade of midnight black, bound by a silver circlet that bore the mark of his rank. Dark robes fluttered around his tall frame, embroidered with patterns that seemed to shift and writhe in the dim light.
At his side hung a sword unlike any mortal blade. Dragon's Wrath—its scabbard was forged from blackened steel and inlaid with crimson runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. The hilt protruded just enough to reveal its dragon-bone grip, wrapped in leather that had seen the blood of countless battles.
"This outer disciple greets Lord Xie," Ye Taxian managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She attempted to bow while still cradling the child, but her limbs trembled like autumn leaves.
Meng Xie's gaze moved from her face to the bundle in her arms, then back again. His expression remained unreadable—a mask of perfect composure that revealed nothing of his thoughts.
"You may dispense the formalities - just address me as Senior Brother Xie, you are disciple of the sect after all, albeit an outer one. I asked you a question, Junior Sister. What are you doing?"
"I... this child..." Ye Taxian's throat felt parched. "Lord X-...Senior Brother, I discovered her among the aftermath. She appears to be of serpent-kin blood, and her scales bear the nine royal colors. I thought perhaps—"
"You thought." The words fell like stones into still water. "Tell me, Ye Taxian, do you believe this child would serve as a greater asset to our sect alive rather than dead?"
Relief flooded through her like spring rain. He was asking for her judgment, not delivering punishment. She nodded rapidly, perhaps too eagerly.
"Yes, Senior Brother! Her bloodline... if she possesses all nine royal serpentkin lineages, her cultivation potential could be extraordinary. The sect could benefit greatly from—"
"Enough." He raised a single finger, and her words died in her throat. "I will handle the details and specifics of her integration into the sect. She will be raised as though her parents were fallen members of our order. How well she performs, whether she sinks or swims in our halls—that will depend entirely upon her own merit."
Meng Xie stepped closer, his boots silent on the riverbank stones. "Does she have a name?"
"No, Senior Brother. She was abandoned to the waters of the Fish-tailed Dragon River."
Ye Taxian gazed down at the infant, whose mismatched eyes seemed to hold depths far beyond her age. At twenty-one, motherhood had never crossed her mind—her path had been carved from ambition and vengeance. Yet looking at this small life, she found herself unexpectedly moved.
"Her name will be Jiu Mei," she said softly. "It means 'Saving a life'. There is... poetic justice in such a name, given the circumstances."
For the briefest moment—so fleeting she might have imagined it—something shifted in Meng Xie's expression. The corner of his mouth might have curved upward, a ghost of a smile that vanished before it fully formed.
"Jiu Mei," he repeated, as if testing the syllables. "Very well."
Ye Taxian blinked, suddenly aware of her exhaustion. Perhaps she had imagined that moment of warmth. Senior Brother Xie was known throughout the sect for his calculating nature—emotion was a luxury he rarely indulged.
"Come," he commanded, turning toward the mountain peaks that loomed in the distance. "It is time to return."
With fluid grace, Meng Xie drew Dragon's Wrath partially from its sheath. The blade sang as it met the air—a sound like wind through a graveyard. The steel gleamed with an inner light, neither wholly silver nor completely black, but something between that seemed to devour the dawn.
His movements were precise, hitting the wind exactly where they were meant to. Seven strikes he made against the empty air, each slash carving invisible patterns that left reality itself trembling. With the final cut, space folded like silk, tearing open to reveal a portal edged in crackling energy.
Through the rift, Ye Taxian glimpsed their destination—the Heavenly Demon Pavilion in all its terrible glory.
"Spatial Distortion," she whispered, unable to hide her awe. Such techniques were the domain of Dou Saints, cultivators who had grasped the fundamental forces of Heaven and Earth. To achieve such mastery typically required millennia of cultivation, yet Meng Xie was merely a few centuries old.
"Your admiration is noted," he said dryly, stepping toward the portal. "Now fly, unless you prefer to walk the thousand li home."
Ye Taxian gathered her Qi, feeling it flow through her meridians. She was at the fourteenth level of Qi Condensation—the realm where cultivators first learned to defy the earth's pull and shape their energy around themselves. She rose into the air with practiced ease, with Jiu Mei secure in her arms, and followed Meng Xie through the tear in space.
The Heavenly Demon Pavilion sprawled across the summit of Mount Tianyuan like a crown upon a giant's head. Countless spires and halls stretched toward the heavens, their architecture both beautiful and menacing. Dark wood and crimson stone created structures that seemed to grow from the mountain itself, while gardens of night-blooming flowers added splashes of color to the austere landscape.
The entire complex was enclosed within a barrier of deepest red—a dome of crystallized malice that pulsed with the heartbeat of the mountain. Floating islands drifted within the barrier's embrace, each one housing formations of pure Qi crystals. These gems formed the backbone of the protective array, their light feeding the barrier that kept the sect hidden from mortal eyes.
Only those bearing the Heavenly Demon's mark could pass through unharmed. All others would find their flesh and spirit consumed by the barrier's hunger.
Before Ye Taxian could voice concern about bringing an unmarked child through such defenses, Meng Xie had already begun forming hand seals. Dark crimson energy gathered at his fingertips like liquid shadow. He pressed his palm against the barrier's surface, and it parted like water, creating an opening large enough for them to pass.
Two guards flanked the entrance—disciples of the outer sect whose cultivation had earned them the right to protect the mountain's gates. Upon seeing Meng Xie, they immediately pressed fist to palm and bowed deeply.
"Senior Brother Xie returns," the first guard intoned. "Welcome back to the—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes falling upon the child in Ye Taxian's arms.
"Forgive this humble guard's presumption," the second guard said carefully, "but we must ask the three of you to accompany us to see Guardian Chen. The opening of the barrier requires explanation, and this... child... appears to be an unauthorized intruder."
The temperature dropped ten degrees in an instant.
Meng Xie's aura unfurled like the wings of some primordial beast, pressing down upon the guards with the weight of mountains. His bloodlust joined the oppressive force—a miasma of death that had claimed thousands of lives. The very air grew thick and poisonous, difficult to breathe for any whose cultivation was insufficient.
"You dare," he said, his voice carrying the chill of winter graves, "question the actions of an inner disciple?"
The guards' knees buckled. They crashed to the stone pathway, their faces white with terror as they struggled against the crushing pressure.
Dragon's Wrath slid a finger's width from its sheath, and the world held its breath.
"Do you believe me or this child to be an intrusion?" Meng Xie asked with deceptive mildness.
"No!" The guards gasped in unison, their voices barely audible. "Senior Brother, we... we will forget this incident ever occurred!"
"That would be in your best interest."
The oppressive aura vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. The guards remained on their knees, chests heaving as they gulped precious air.
Ye Taxian stared at Meng Xie's back, admiration clear in her eyes. His control was absolute—the mark of a true powerhouse who could cow lesser beings with mere intention.
"Will you follow, or shall I leave you here to continue gawking?" he asked without turning around.
Heat rushed to Ye Taxian's cheeks. "This junior sister follows Senior Brother's lead."
They made their way through winding paths that led deeper into the pavilion's heart. Past training grounds where disciples practiced forms that could split mountains, through gardens where poisonous flowers bloomed in perpetual twilight, until they reached a section of the complex Ye Taxian had never seen before.
The Orphan's Hall stood apart from the main structures, its architecture softer somehow—built to shelter rather than intimidate. Here lived the children of fallen sect members, raised and trained until they could take their place among the disciples.
"Complete the necessary documentation," Meng Xie instructed, gesturing toward a desk where several female disciples waited. "The child will be placed in their care."
Ye Taxian nodded, approaching the women with measured steps. The forms were standard—name, parentage, circumstances of arrival. She filled them out with quick strokes, her calligraphy neat despite her trembling fingers. Over half of her answers were filled with lies, though to outside eyes, they appeared to be an unmistakable truth.
As she prepared to hand over Jiu Mei, the child's eyes opened fully for the first time since their arrival. Those mismatched orbs—one warm as sunset, the other cool as twilight—seemed to peer directly into Ye Taxian's soul. The serpentine pupils dilated slightly, and for a moment, Ye Taxian could have sworn she saw understanding there.
Then she remembered—the scales, the tail, her, eyes, the obvious signs of Jiu Mei's serpentkin heritage were still visible!
"Senior Brother," she said urgently, "her appearance—"
"Will be handled," Meng Xie replied simply.
With reluctance that surprised her, Ye Taxian dissolved her silk threads and placed Jiu Mei into the waiting arms of the nearest female disciple. The woman's eyes widened in shock as she saw the child's forked tail and rainbow scales with her vertical pupils.
"You will speak nothing of what you observe," Meng Xie said, his voice carrying casual menace, "unless you wish to discover how your head looks beside your feet."
The disciple bowed so deeply her forehead nearly touched the floor. "This humble disciple understands, Senior Brother Xie."
With their business concluded, Ye Taxian found herself walking away from the Orphan's Hall beside Meng Xie. She cast one final glance over her shoulder, watching as Jiu Mei was placed among the numerous cradles that housed the sect's youngest residents.
The female disciple maintained her respectful posture until they were well out of sight. Only then did her expression shift, disgust twisting her features as she stared down at the serpent-kin child.
"Filthy demi-human," she muttered under her breath, venom dripping from every word. "What curse have they brought into our halls?"
Jiu Mei lay in her new cradle, apparently oblivious to the hatred directed toward her. Her mismatched eyes gazed upward with innocent curiosity, taking in the wooden beams and hanging lanterns of her new home.
But behind those multi-colored eyes, a mind far older than her infant body catalogued every slight, every whispered curse, every face that looked upon her with scorn.
She would remember. And someday, when her power matched her bloodline, there would be a reckoning.
For now, though, she was content to watch and learn, gathering the threads of her future like a spider weaving destiny itself.