The scent of pine sap and damp earth lingered in the air, but Song Lian barely noticed. Her attention was fixed on the dark symbol carved into the storehouse wall, a jagged spiral entwined by thorns, its lines precise, deliberate, and filled with malice. It hadn't been there before.
She was sure of it. Not a prank. Not superstition. A threat. One meant only for those who could recognize it. Her hand hovered above the carving, but she didn't touch it again. Instead, she stepped back, eyes narrowed, mind calculating.
In the hours that followed, Song Lian researched in secret. Using scrolls and books salvaged from her soul-bound storage, the volumes of ancient Eastern and Western occult lore, as she cross-referenced the symbol across dozens of languages and scripts. Finally, late in the night, she found a match.
TheBlackHall.
An ancient and elusive sect, believed to have been wiped out centuries ago. Some claimed they were assassins. Others said they were an underground cult devoted to a dark form of cultivation where the members of The Black Hall devoured others' qi for power.
The truth, as always, was murkier. According to the last known records, they operated in secret under imperial regimes, thriving in chaos and war. They marked potential threats or prey with the BlackBladeSeal, just like the one now carved into Xingzhao's walls. They knew about her. Or worse… they knew about Yun Zhen.
At sunrise, Song Lian found herself once again beneath the tall pine at the village edge. She didn't call for Yun Zhen, but she knew he would come. He always did.
Sure enough, moments later, his quiet footsteps approached. He carried a cloak over one shoulder, hair tied back, sword at his hip, a soldier's instinct refusing to rest.
"You've hardly slept," Yun Zhen said, his voice gentle.
"Neither have you," she replied, eyes scanning the mist curling along the treetops.
He stood beside her, and for a time, they said nothing. Then she finally asked, "Have you heard of the Black Hall?"
Yun Zhen's body stiffened. "I have," he said after a pause. "My tutor warned me of them as a child. He claimed they whispered in the ears of emperors and made kingdoms fall in a single night. But they're a myth."
"They aren't," Song Lian said quietly. "Not anymore."
She told him what she found, but not everything. Not about her books, not about her storage. Only that she'd once read of such things in her travels, and that she recognized the mark.
That was enough for now. Yun Zhen turned to her fully, his brow furrowed. "Why would they come here? We are barely more than a village. I'm no threat to the court."
"You're alive," she said. "To the Yun Court, that alone is a threat."
He studied her face for a long moment, and something shifted between them, some unspoken understanding, fragile but real.
"You always see the danger before it arrives," he murmured. "How?"
"I've lived long enough to know what comes after peace," she replied, her gaze steady. "And I intend to protect this place. With or without legends."
Yun Zhen stepped closer. "Not without me," he said quietly. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world fell away.
Two nights later, strange lights were seen at the edge of the forest. Lanterns with blue flames. Shadows were moving unnaturally between the trees.
The guards atop the northern watchtower reported hearing whispers in the wind as dozens of voices were speaking in unison. When they climbed down to investigate, the woods were empty, and the air had gone still.
No attack came. But when Song Lian and Yun Zhen visited the spot, they found another sigil carved into a tree trunk—this time smaller, lower, almost playful.
Theywerewatching.
By morning, a silent plan was already in motion. Yun Zhen convened a closed council of trusted individuals: WuShun, JiaMei, LiangCheng, and two of the ex-soldiers from Jishu who had fought in the recent battle.
No mention of the Black Hall was made publicly, but extra patrols were established. Curfews were softly introduced under the pretense of "forest beast sightings."
Craftsmen worked under Song Lian's guidance to reinforce buildings subtly with thicker beams, hidden compartments, and reinforced doors.
She never revealed how she had the materials. She simply made it happen.
And the people, blessedly, trusted her.
Despite the looming shadows, life in Xingzhao carried on. The bakery now offered pastries filled with mountain berries. Children played tag with wooden swords in the square. A couple was wed in the market square under the watchful gaze of curious townsfolk.
In the quieter hours, Song Lian and Yun Zhen found themselves walking more often together. He told her of his younger brother's betrayal, of the night the palace burned and the lies that sent him fleeing into exile.
She, in turn, spoke vaguely of her childhood in a world of steel and stone, where cities touched the sky and no emperor ruled, just cold machines and endless schedules.
He didn't understand all of it. But he listened.
One night, beneath the stars, she found herself leaning slightly against his arm as they watched the fireflies dance above the grass. He didn't move away.
That same night, far from Xingzhao, in a long-abandoned shrine tucked into the cliffs of the LuomenMountains, nine figures gathered in a circle.
Their faces were masked, their robes black and marked with silver thread. In the center of the circle, a bowl filled with blood burned with blue flame.
A voice spoke from the shadows. "She has awakened."
Another hissed, "And the prince lives."
A third: "Then the game begins."
They all turned toward the flames as the blood began to boil, and the Black Blade sigil shimmered in the air above them.
TheBlackHallhadreturned to the surface of the world. Long gone were the days they did everything in the dark. They would show their might to the world.