By ArkGodZ | DaoVerse Studio
Ash danced through the dusk like ghosts from forgotten prayers.The Pale Moon Sect did not sleep.It smoldered.
Jian Yu stood alone in the stillness of his quarters.No chains.No collar.Only silence.
But silence, now, felt like a cage without walls.
The room was bare — a straw mat, a cracked basin. No window, only a slit that bled moonlight. It was not comfort. It was containment.
He had passed the trial.But peace had not followed.
A knock.
Yue Shuang stepped inside, the door creaking quietly behind her.
Her silver-white hair fell loosely over robes of pale silk. Her expression, as always, was unreadable — but it wasn't empty. It was focused. Like a blade held still before the strike.
"You haven't slept," she said.
"No."
"Why?"
He turned to her, gaze steady.
"I don't trust silence anymore."
She didn't answer right away.Then she stepped closer, until only the dim light separated them.
"Tomorrow, your first field trial begins.You'll be paired with disciples. Not for training.For survival."
"Combat?"
"Yes."
She turned to leave.But paused in the doorway.
"And Jian Yu…"
He raised an eyebrow."Yes?"
"There is one among them who remembers everything.Especially threats."
He tilted his head."Someone I've met?"
"No," she said. "But someone who will make sure you never forget him."
The next morning, the outer courtyard buzzed with tension.
Servants dumped ash from the incense halls. Junior disciples dragged training dummies and whetstones. The stone beneath Jian Yu's feet was cold — but familiar.
He stood among the new outer disciples. Eyes scanned him with curiosity and disdain.
And then—A ripple in the crowd.
A figure parted the disciples like a blade through water.
Wei Renshu.
He wore crimson robes with gold-threaded cuffs. His black hair was tied back, neat, efficient. A sword hung at his hip — not decorative, but used. Maintained.
He said nothing at first. Just observed.And then, his eyes locked on Jian Yu.
"Who let a servant slip into our ranks?"
Laughter broke around them.
Jian Yu didn't flinch.
Wei stepped forward."You walk like someone who still hears chains."
He didn't fear losing.He feared what might awaken if he didn't.
"I walk like someone who already broke them," Jian Yu said.
The crowd stilled.
Wei's lips twitched.
"Then prove it."
The instructor at the side raised his voice.
"Trial match! Wei Renshu versus… Shen."
"Jian Yu," he corrected.
A nod. "Jian Yu, then."
The sparring ring was a circle of black gravel. Ash hung in the air, drifting like embers that forgot how to burn.
They faced each other, staffs in hand.
Wei's eyes were still. Calculating.Jian Yu's grip tightened. His breath slowed.
No signal. No bow. No mercy.
Wei moved like water over steel — fluid, fast, and unforgiving. His staff came low, sweeping for the knee.
A feint.
Jian Yu stepped back—The real strike came from above.
He blocked.The wood cracked against his. The impact ran through his chest.
Wei slid in again, elbow darting like a spear toward Jian Yu's ribs.
Jian Yu deflected, turned, swept.Wei jumped the sweep, landed light.
"You're slower than I imagined," Wei said, calm.
"And you're easier to read than your robes," Jian Yu replied.
Wei's eyes sharpened.
He lunged with true speed. The staff hissed through air, missing Jian Yu's chest by inches — cutting fabric, not flesh.
Gasps from the watching disciples.
"That servant is still standing?""He's not just standing… he's reading Renshu."
Clash.Clash.Clash.
Their movements blurred — not brute force, but balance and rhythm, power and precision.
And then—
Something cracked.
Not outside.
Inside Jian Yu.
His chest burned — not from fatigue.
From... feeling.
The scent of ash. The heat of the air. The memory of Yue Shuang's voice.
"He'll make sure you never forget him."
He didn't see Wei.He saw fire.An altar.Loss.
And in that second, Wei struck.
The staff slammed into Jian Yu's ribs, sending him flying.
He rolled hard, pain blooming white behind his eyes.
But he stood.
He was breathing fast — and his hands…
They glowed.
Faint.Red.Like ember beneath flesh.
"Desire is not weakness."
He stepped forward.
Wei came again — faster.
But this time, Jian Yu didn't block.
He moved with the strike. Let it glide along him. Spun—And his staff snapped forward, striking Wei in the shoulder with clean force.
Wei staggered, then smiled.
A trail of blood painted his lip.
"You're more fun than I expected."
"You're the first thing I've burned in a long time," Jian Yu replied.
The instructor raised a hand."Enough!"
Later, Jian Yu sat by the wall, ribs sore, breath steady.His hands no longer glowed.But the heat lingered.
He didn't feel like a servant.
He felt close to something dangerous.
Then—Footsteps.
Yue Shuang.
"You fought like someone chasing ghosts," she said.
He looked up. "I wasn't chasing. I was reliving."
She knelt. Eyes softer."You're awakening."
He hesitated. "Was that… the Sutra?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she reached out, brushing her fingers against his wrist.
His skin burned like silk against flame.
Not pain.Not fear.Hunger.
He swallowed."Who are you really?"
Her hand paused. Her gaze held his.
"I am Yue Shuang," she said."The frost of the moon."
The name echoed through him like poetry he had forgotten.Like a whisper from a dream he never had… but missed.
She stood."Desire begins with friction," she said.
And vanished into the ash.
Jian Yu stared at his hands.
The glow was gone.
But beneath the skin…a single ember pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Not rage.Not vengeance.Desire.
⚔️ End of Chapter 2
Next: Chapter 3 – First Bloom