Night fell over Hollow Echo Peak like a veil of secrets.
Tents glowed dimly beneath paper lanterns. Sect members whispered strategies over steaming cups of spirit tea, while messengers scurried from camp to camp, bearing tokens and declarations. The air was heavy—not just with tension, but with potential. The Crimson Sect had won recognition, but their presence stirred a hornet's nest.
Mei Lian sat cross-legged beneath a lone pine tree outside the Crimson Sect's modest encampment, her eyes closed in meditation. A soft glow of crimson light flickered around her form—her qi slowly stabilizing after the duel with Yan Qi. The fire within her had responded quicker this time. It no longer fought her, but danced to her will, as if sensing her resolve.
"You're pushing hard," Shen Liuxian said, approaching with a flask in hand. "Too hard, maybe."
Mei opened one eye and offered a faint smile. "It's the first time the flame hasn't tried to devour me in weeks. I won't waste the moment."
Shen sat beside her, offering the flask. She took a sip—bitter, earthy, and spiced. It steadied her qi even further.
"We've received eight alliance requests in the last two hours," Shen said, watching the stars. "Mostly smaller sects. Border clans. Some just want protection. Others want to use us."
Mei leaned back against the tree. "They think we're still naive."
"They're wrong," he replied simply. "But we have to choose wisely. Our next move can't be survival—it has to be growth."
Mei nodded, then fell quiet. Her fingers tapped softly against the hilt of her sword.
Before she could speak again, a cold breeze swept through the camp—unnatural, piercing.
Both of them rose instantly. Disciples nearby began murmuring. Shen's eyes sharpened.
"Did you feel that?" he asked.
"Yes," Mei said, already walking toward the edge of the camp. "Something's coming."
They moved swiftly into the forest beyond the conclave's edge. The trees here were ancient, gnarled with frost-covered branches. The air dropped rapidly, visible breath forming in front of their mouths.
Then they saw her.
Yan Qi—alone, standing amid a small glade bathed in moonlight. Her robes fluttered as if caught in a storm only she could feel.
"You followed?" Mei asked, hand instinctively resting on her sword.
Yan Qi raised her hands in peace. "I didn't come to fight. I came to talk."
Shen circled slightly, wariness in every step. "Most emissaries bring gifts, not blizzards."
"I needed silence," Yan Qi replied, "and the wind is my silence."
Mei tilted her head. "Then speak."
Yan Qi's gaze was sharp, but not hostile. "I've fought hundreds of duelists. Some faster. Some more powerful. But none who held back like you did. That restraint told me more than your fire."
"I didn't hold back to spare you," Mei said calmly. "I did it to prove control."
"And you succeeded," Yan Qi admitted. She looked away for a moment, as if ashamed. "The Silver Root Sect is splitting. Half wish to submit to the Pavilion quietly. The other half wants to fight—but they have no banner, no rallying point."
Mei's eyes narrowed. "And you want me to lead them?"
"No," Yan Qi said. "I want to join you… before they make the choice for me."
Shen stepped forward. "Why us? Why not the Ghostflame Sect, or the Mistwind? They have history. Power."
"Because they also have greed," Yan Qi said coldly. "They want a new throne. You want a new world."
Silence fell. Mei studied her carefully. The ice cultivator's spirit was cold, but not cruel. In her, Mei sensed something rare—a willingness to let go of the old world's pride.
"Then swear it," Mei said.
Yan Qi blinked. "Swear what?"
"Swear to follow the flame," Mei said, her voice steady. "Not just me—but the Crimson path. No bloodline, no name, no gold. Only flame and will."
Yan Qi dropped to one knee.
"I swear on my cultivation and my core," she said, voice echoing through the glade, "that I will walk the Crimson path—not as nobility, but as a servant of flame."
A pulse of crimson qi swept through the trees—gentle but firm. The forest accepted her vow.
Mei stepped forward and extended her hand.
"Then rise, Yan Qi. You are now Crimson."
---
Later that night…
Whispers spread quickly through Hollow Echo Peak.
An elite disciple of the Silver Root Sect had defected. She had taken the Crimson Vow. Other sects began to stir.
"Did she betray her lineage?"
"Or did she see the truth?"
Within the Crimson camp, the atmosphere changed. Disciples spoke in low, awed tones. Yan Qi trained beside them now, instructing them in frost-forging techniques to reinforce their raw cultivation. She showed no arrogance, only quiet determination.
Old Ji chuckled softly. "Strange, isn't it? The fire makes room for the frost."
Mei Lian smiled. "Even frost can burn when its heart is resolute."
---
Elsewhere, far above the conclave…
The woman in white watched again through the crystal mirror, her expression unreadable. This time, her fingers clenched around a jade flute—so hard that it cracked.
A voice echoed behind her. "The Crimson Sect grows."
"I see it," she said quietly.
"Shall I summon the Shadow Envoys?"
She turned, eyes like shards of heaven. "Not yet. Let them climb a little higher. Let them believe."
Her lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth.
"Then we'll burn them from the inside."