The stairwell spiraled deep into the mountain's heart, the stone cold and wet beneath their boots. Only the faint glow of Lin Xiyan's inner energy lit the path ahead.
Shen Liufeng kept one hand on his sword, the other loosely interlocked with Lin's fingers.
"Still holding on?" Shen asked, voice low in the silence.
Lin gave a small smile. "I'm not the one who collapsed earlier."
"Still bitter?"
"Only slightly."
They shared a quiet laugh. But beneath it pulsed tension—of something watching.
The corridor opened into a vast underground hall, carved from obsidian-black stone. In the center stood a stone pedestal, and upon it, a sealed scroll wrapped in crimson silk. Dozens of shadowy lanterns hung from the walls, unlit.
Too quiet.
"Trap," they said in unison.
And then—
BOOM
The walls split. Panels dropped away. From the darkness burst mechanical assassins—dozens of them—bronze-clad constructs, limbs sharpened to blades, their eyes burning with crimson light.
"They're not human," Lin muttered.
"They don't need to be," Shen said, already unsheathing his sword.
"Just try to keep up."
Lin's sword flicked forward, elegant and flowing like falling petals. Shen moved opposite, swift and brutal like wind slicing through branches.
For every blow, the other was already there.
A construct leapt toward Lin—Shen's blade caught its arm mid-air, spinning it just enough for Lin to pierce its core.
Shen swept low beneath another, slashing its legs. Lin followed with a vertical strike from above, splitting it in half.
But more came. Twenty. Thirty.
"Too many," Shen hissed.
Lin's eyes narrowed. "Then we use it."
Shen looked at him—and nodded.
Their palms met.
A pulse of light exploded between them.
Twin Lotus Art – Second Form: Petals Through Steel
Their bodies moved as one—Lin weaving graceful illusions, every step a lure. Shen followed in perfect time, his blade striking only where Lin's sword had just misled their foes. It was a dance—flawless, lethal, beautiful.
Lin darted between constructs, drawing their attention. Shen slipped through the gaps, cutting down one after another. Energy swirled around them like wind through blooming trees.
Their blades crossed in a final arc—an X of light and shadow—sending the last wave of constructs crashing down in a shower of sparks and petals.
Breathing hard, Shen sheathed his sword. "Still bitter?"
Lin smirked. "Only slightly impressed."
They turned back to the pedestal. The scroll pulsed faintly.
Lin reached for it—then paused.
A sigil glowed beneath the surface.
"It's sealed with blood-forged Qi."
Shen stepped beside him. "Two lives, one truth."
Together, they pressed their palms to the seal.
A hum. A warmth. The silk unraveled.
And there, inked in red:
The name of the true master of the Lotus Pact.
But neither read it aloud—not yet.
Lin looked up. "No matter what this name is—"
Shen met his gaze. "We face it together."