Chapters: Whispers in the Upper realms
The Silk Lotus Realm was quiet.
Here, the winds did not scream. They sighed.
The sky stretched in hues of rose and lilac, with gentle clouds drifting across a horizon untouched by war. Mountains hovered midair like petals suspended in serenity, and at their heart lay the floating palace—the inner sanctum of the Silk Lotus Sect.
Yan Xue lay in the center of the Sky-Bloom Pavilion, his body resting on an elevated lotus-bed crafted from woven clouds and flowing silk. Pillars carved from moonstone surrounded him, draped in translucent veils that swayed with unseen Qi.
His breathing was shallow but steady. His skin had regained its alabaster luster, though faint traces of battle still lingered—thin lines across his collarbone, bruises blooming like fading violets along his thighs and ribs. Yet no trace of pain touched his expression.
Only calm.
And beside him, Ryu Yeon-Hwa sat.
The Heavenly Demon's hand rested atop Yan Xue's chest, fingers glowing faintly as threads of spiritual silk poured warmth and energy into his heart meridian. He hadn't spoken for an hour.
He hadn't needed to.
Yan Xue stirred.
Slowly, lids fluttered open, revealing those familiar violet-crimson eyes—eyes that once held fear, now filled with clarity.
"Master..."
Yeon-Hwa smiled. "Beloved."
Yan Xue flushed, color blooming in his cheeks like dawn touching frost. "You waited."
"You earned a rest worthy of legends. I would not have left your side."
He leaned forward and kissed Yan Xue's forehead—a kiss not of hunger or fire, but of patience and devotion.
Yan Xue sat up slowly, careful of his soreness. As he did, silk sheets pooled around his waist, revealing the delicate collar of his inner robe, embroidered with a tiny lotus over his heart.
"I feel like I was reborn ," he whispered.
"You were."
They sat in silence for a while, hands entwined.
Outside, golden koi leapt through floating streams. A crimson butterfly hovered at the edge of the open pavilion.
"Master," Yan Xue said quietly, "was I too cruel?"
Yeon-Hwa closed his eyes. "Compassion must be wielded with wisdom. But cruelty... can be an expression of love denied....do you feel regret?"
Yan Xue looked down at his hands.
"I feel no regret," he admitted.
"Then you are honest."
Yan Xue leaned against him, resting his head on Yeon-Hwa's shoulder.
"Will the realms hate me?"
"Yes. But they will also fear you. And perhaps, in time, worship you."
A gentle breeze drifted through the pavilion. The scent of sandalwood and crimson lotus filled the air. Yeon-Hwa summoned a pot of orchid tea with a flick of his sleeve and poured it into twin cups.
They drank slowly.
Later that afternoon, Yan Xue wandered the garden paths of the inner sect. He wore a soft crimson robe cinched at the waist with a silver sash. Each step he took on the floating petals beneath his feet was light, even playful.
He paused beneath a cherry blossom tree that bore lotus-shaped blossoms.
"It's peaceful," he said aloud.
"Because you silenced the storm within you," came Yeon-Hwa's voice.
Yan Xue turned and smiled.
"Walk with me?"
The Heavenly Demon joined him, and they walked slowly beneath the drifting petals.
Yan Xue reached up and caught a blossom. He twirled it between his fingers, then tucked it behind Yeon-Hwa's ear.
"Beautiful."
Yeon-Hwa chuckled. "You dare call me that, knowing how you look right now?"
Yan Xue stepped closer.
"Is it wrong for a flower to admire its sun?"
Their lips met briefly—not a passionate kiss, but one of deep affection.
Later, they sparred.
Yan Xue insisted on it. "I need to feel my body again," he said.
They moved to the Jade Reflection Court, a practice arena made of mirrored water. Yan Xue stood barefoot, blade in hand, silk ribbons trailing behind him like comet tails.
Yeon-Hwa stood across, unarmed.
They circled, teased, exchanged strikes like lovers exchanging glances.
Each clash was less about power, more about rhythm. Dance. Trust.
And when Yan Xue slipped and fell into the shallow waters, laughing breathlessly, Yeon-Hwa knelt beside him, chuckling.
"You lose."
"No," Yan Xue whispered, pulling him closer by the collar.
"I win everything, because I have you."
They lay together on the warm stone steps of the arena, gazing up at the velvet sky. Crimson clouds rolled slowly above them.
"Promise me something," Yan Xue said.
"Anything."
"Never let me forget who I am."
Yeon-Hwa kissed his temple.
"You are my flower. My fury. My vow. I will remind you every time your heart beats."
And in that realm beyond war, beyond shame, beyond expectation, Yan Xue rested.
Loved.
Bloomed.
-----
Whispers in the Heavens
The Tianyu Realm was still.
When the first response squads arrived, called by ancient sigils and distressed divine plaques, they expected a battlefield. Fires, corpses, craters—chaos.
What they found was silence.
And a black lotus the size of a palace blooming in a pool of blood.
The first elder from the Cloudborn Pavilion stepped onto the field and collapsed to his knees. Behind him, the Celestial Wardens halted. The Qi was too dense. The blood too sacred. The air did not reek of death—it hummed with divinity.
"This isn't just destruction," the warden whispered. "This is... A declaration."
Among the wreckage, not a single survivor could be found.
All sect banners were torn. Statues cracked. Formation plates shattered. The battlefield held only one voice now—a blooming black lotus, pulsing with ethereal light. It bore no mark, no inscription—yet all who beheld it understood.
It was claimed.
By a force more stubborn than righteousness. More devout than order.
By the Silk Lotus Sect.
Reports arrived at the Celestial Court in waves, each more disturbing than the last.
And when Immortal Lord Shenmu heard the signs of the battlefield , and the person responsible for it, he fell into stunned silence.
Not from fear of Yan Xue.
But because he recognized the signs.
He had seen them once before.
Long ago, he had faced the previous wielder of the Blooming Void Sutra. A being who had torn down entire realms not for glory, but for devotion. Back then, the sutra's master vanished, corrupted and feminised by the sutra itself and the scriptures were lost—or so they believed.
But now?
He saw the truth.
The Heavenly Demon . He had suspected that the new weilder had complete control of the scriptures. But he never estimated that the difference between this one and the previous to be this huge.
For three days, Shenmu sat unmoving within the Celestial Grove.
Then, quietly, with no words to anyone, he walked into the Pool of Samsara, returning to the cycle of reincarnation.
He could not face it again.
This time, the weapon was stronger.
More stable.
More willing.
The Court convened in desperation. Ten thousand jade tablets were activated. Golden-robed immortals shimmered into the Sky Parliament. Shock rippled through the grand chambers.
"He was the Tianyu Sect's greatest prodigy!"
"A paragon of discipline, of virtue! How could he join a sect we had shunned for heresy?"
"What did he see in the Silk Lotus?"
"No. Not what he saw," said a quiet archivist. "Who he saw."
The name came again and again:
Heavenly Demon.
The same suspected figure, weilder of the forbidden dual path, the whisperer behind the Blooming Void Sutra.
"Suppress the news," the Celestial Emissary ordered. "We say it was an internal collapse. A spiritual backlash. The black lotus will be sealed."
"And what of the disciple?"
"Gone. Vanished into myth."
Yet no suppression lasted long.
Whispers began to spread.
Not just of Yan Xue—though his name was spoken with awe. But a second name traveled alongside his, darker, more terrifying.
Heavenly Demon.
Villagers dreamed of a man robed in silk, lips stained crimson, holding a bleeding lotus in one hand and a broken sword in the other.
They built altars, not of gold, but of black silk and ash.
Incense of black lotus burned in secret.
And in hidden corners of the upper realms, prayers were whispered to the sect no one dared acknowledge.
The Silk Lotus Sect.
Its first disciple.
And his god.
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