The dawn after the liberation of Lianshu Village was unlike any Mei Lian had ever known.
Gone were the cries of the chained. The scent of ash had faded, replaced with the soft fragrance of plum blossoms reawakening under the care of freed villagers. Children ran barefoot through the fields, their laughter piercing the silence that had loomed for too long. The villagers, though tired and hollow-eyed, moved with a newfound sense of purpose.
Mei Lian stood on a hilltop overlooking it all, the wind tugging at her robes. She held in her hand the scorched remains of Zhou Hailin's bone-etched blade—a weapon once soaked in curse energy, now nothing more than brittle black scrap.
Behind her, Shen Liuxian approached, his footsteps light but deliberate. "They've begun rebuilding."
She nodded. "Even after everything… they still choose to hope."
"It's what makes them stronger than any sect."
Mei Lian turned to him, her voice quiet. "I never imagined… they'd offer to follow us."
"They followed because they saw something that all the grand sects have forgotten," Shen replied. "That cultivation was never meant to be about titles or towers. It was meant to protect. To guide."
She looked out over the village again. "Do you think we can really lead them?"
"I think the question isn't whether we can," Shen said, "but whether we must."
A shout broke their conversation.
"Miss Mei! Lord Shen!"
They turned to see the village elder—Old Ji, a wiry man with a crooked back and eyes sharp with clarity—hurrying up the path, a scroll clenched in his hands.
"This arrived an hour ago," he said, breathless. "Delivered by a hawk wearing the sigil of the Silent Blade Sect."
Mei Lian accepted the scroll, noting the obsidian-black seal. She broke it carefully and unfurled the parchment. Her eyes scanned the contents quickly.
"What is it?" Shen asked.
"A formal invitation," she said. "To a gathering in the neutral territory of Hollow Echo Peak."
Shen raised an eyebrow. "A gathering? What kind?"
"An underground conclave," Mei Lian said, voice tight. "Dozens of minor sects and clans. They're forming a resistance. Against the Heavenly Sky Pavilion."
Shen's eyes darkened. "And they want us to attend."
"Yes. But not as guests." She passed him the scroll.
He read aloud:
'Let the Crimson Sect present its flame, if it dares. Let its blade speak before the old world's judgment. The time has come to choose war… or subjugation.'
A long silence followed.
"It's a challenge," he said. "They want to see if we're serious."
"Then we'll show them," Mei Lian said firmly. "But not with words alone."
---
Later that evening…
Inside the largest hall in Lianshu, once a grain storehouse now converted into a gathering chamber, Mei Lian addressed the villagers. Lanterns flickered around the walls, casting long shadows across the simple wooden floor.
"I won't lie to you," she began, standing before the seated crowd. "By joining the Crimson Sect, you make enemies of the great powers. The Pavilion will not ignore us forever. The world may turn on us."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
"But if we do nothing—if we keep our heads down and let them decide who deserves protection, who deserves freedom—then we become no different than those who stood by while you suffered."
Her gaze swept across the crowd. "The Crimson Sect is more than Shen Liuxian and I. It is all of you. Each of you who dares to believe that justice doesn't need a golden seal or a sacred bloodline."
She drew her sword.
Not to threaten.
But to plant.
With a loud clang, she drove it into the wooden floor.
"This is our oath. From this night forward, you are not simply villagers. You are cultivators of a new path. You will train. You will rise. And one day, when the Pavilion looks upon us from their towers, they will not see peasants."
She placed her hand on the hilt.
"They will see a flame too vast to smother."
A beat of silence. Then Old Ji stood, bowing low.
"I offer my years to this cause. My wisdom, such as it is."
One by one, others stood.
"I offer my strength."
"I offer my blade."
"I offer my son."
Even the children raised their hands, voices clear.
"I'll grow strong too."
By night's end, the first generation of Crimson Sect disciples had been sworn.
They had no ornate robes, no spirit-forged weapons, no vaults of ancient treasure. But they had purpose. And that was the rarest treasure of all.
---
Midnight
Shen found Mei Lian sitting alone beneath the moonlit willow where they had trained just days before. She stared into the stream, her reflection dancing in the ripples.
"Doubt?" he asked.
She smiled faintly. "Responsibility."
He sat beside her. "You're not alone in this."
"I know," she said. "But sometimes I wonder if the first Crimson Heir felt the same. That the flame wasn't just power… but a burden too."
"She died before she could finish her path," Shen said. "But maybe that's why you were chosen. To finish it in a new way."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Mei Lian spoke softly. "Thank you, Shen."
"For what?"
"For never doubting me. Even when I wasn't sure I could carry the flame."
He looked at her. "I didn't follow the Crimson Sect. I followed you."
Their eyes met.
In that moment, something shifted—not spoken, not yet acted upon, but undeniably real.
A connection.
Not just of oath or flame… but of hearts beginning to entwine.
---
Far away, in Hollow Echo Peak…
Beneath a cold moon, a cloaked figure stood before a gathering of sect masters and rogue cultivators. All waited in silence as the last parchment was read aloud.
"The Crimson Sect is coming," the announcer declared. "They've accepted the challenge."
A murmur spread across the room. Some laughed. Some scowled. Others—more cautious—fell silent.
In the shadows, a woman in golden robes narrowed her eyes.
"So the flame rises, just as the prophecies warned," she whispered. "Then we must prepare to extinguish it before it spreads too far."