The Eastern Market had yet to close.Onlookers gathered at a distance. A faint metallic scent lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp fragrance of spices.
The first body lay behind a cloth shop.The skin had turned ashen gray, as though every drop of blood had been drawn from within. There were no visible wounds.
Li Xuanwu crouched to examine it.
"This is not the work of a human weapon."
He Jin Feng stood silent for a moment before drawing a pinch of cinnabar powder from his sleeve and scattering it across the stone pavement.
Dim lines of incantation flickered briefly, then vanished….A chill pierced Ling Shan's chest.
Beneath the corpse, faint markings remained..Three concentric circles. A diagonal stroke cutting cleanly through the center.
An image burst into his mind… The shrine floor. Blood. A sealing formation closing... His own hand.
Ling Shan stepped back half a pace…. He Jin Feng noticed immediately.
"Do you remember something?"
The question was mild, but sharper than a blade. Ling Shan did not answer. His gaze remained fixed on the formation.Li Xuanwu rose and stepped beside him without a word.
He did not ask.He simply stood there. He Jin Feng exhaled softly.
"A formation of this kind is not commonly used," he said slowly. "It is a high-tier sealing array of the Qingyun lineage."
The name struck Li still.The temple upon the ridge. Master Xuanming. His grandfather.
"Impossible," Li said in a low voice.
(How could Ling Shan's grandfather know of such things? He was a monk.)
He Jin Feng turned toward him.
"I did not say you were responsible."
"But someone of the same lineage is in the capital. And it does not resemble the work of demons or fiends."
The wind picked up.
Market banners snapped loudly overhead.
Ling Shan felt it then… Not demonic energy.A summons.As though someone were testing him.Leaving behind a formation he had once drawn.
And then…
A scream split the air from the next alley.All four turned at once.A red shadow flashed past the edge of a rooftop, too fast for human sight.
But before it vanished…Ling Shan saw it clearly. The tip of a white tail, reflecting the afternoon sun.
(Bai Jing!?)
He Jin Feng followed the shadow with his eyes. There was no shock in them, only certainty.
"It would seem…" he said softly, "the demon you sealed was not the only one."
The words fell into the sudden stillness of the market.
And for the first time, Ling Shan began to wonder. The wedding night beneath the shrine, might not have been about love alone.
It may have been part of a formation, left incomplete.
And now…
someone was making it whole.
The scream had not yet faded when Ling Shan broke from the circle.
"Ling Shan!" Li Xuanwu called, but he was already gone.
The red shadow streaked past the rooftops. A white tail lashed against the wind.
Bai Jing.
The thought was too clear to doubt.
Ling Shan leapt onto the eaves, chasing across rows of muted tiles. Below, panic rippled through the crowd.
The shadow halted atop the abandoned bell tower at the far end of the market.
Ling Shan descended before her. A woman in red stood with her back to him. Her long black hair flowed in the wind.
"Bai Jing," he called, voice low. The figure stiffened, then slowly turned.
Her eyes…too clear. No thousand-year stillness. No sorrow hidden behind a faint smile. Only confusion.
"You… know me?" she asked softly.
Ling Shan froze. The aura was different. Not heavy. Not ancient. Like a flame only just ignited.
Suddenly, wind spiraled around her feet.
A single white fox tail emerged, unstable.Incomplete. She lowered her gaze to her own hands, as though unfamiliar with the shape of her human form.
"I… have only just awakened," she murmured. "This year marks one thousand years…"
A chill ran through Ling Shan's heart. A thousand years. Then she was not Bai Jing. Bai Jing had already died, or had she been sealed beneath the shrine all along?
Her eyes widened at the change in his expression.
"Why does everyone call me… Bai Jing?"
There was no pretense in her voice. It was the question of someone newly born. They stood there, shouting questions moments ago, now halted in fragile stillness.
A streak of dark shadow rippled across the bell tower wall. Low laughter echoed through the air.
"Because that is your name."
The voice was not loud. It slipped into the wind as though it belonged there.
Ling Shan turned sharply. A frigid demonic aura sliced across his skin.
"Who's there!" he demanded.
The laughter faded slowly.
"What is born of blood… inherits the name of blood."
The woman in red suddenly collapsed, clutching her chest. Images flooded her mind… Scarlet blood dripping onto shrine stones. Cultivation energy spiraling violently. A curse spoken before the final breath. A grave from which nothing should ever awaken again.
She trembled…
then fell.
…
Ling Shan caught her. "You are not her," he said slowly, clearly.
Her eyes quivered.
"But I remember… the moonlight. The formation. And you."
The memories were not hers, yet they were carved into her blood. Below, hurried footsteps approached.
Li Xuanwu and He Jin Feng were coming.
Before they appeared, the shadow along the wall shifted once more. Demonic qi rippled through the air.
The scheme that began on the wedding night had never ended. Bai Jing's blood before death, had been fused with the soul of a young fox spirit, awakened within the same grave.
So that the "name" might return. Not for love… but to complete the formation. And behind that unseen darkness, one name moved in silence..
Mo Xue. The Demon Lord who never appeared in person, yet every thread lay within his grasp.
The young fox lifted her head to look at Ling Shan.
"If I am not Bai Jing…" her voice trembled slightly, "then who am I?"
The question left Ling Shan wordless.
Beneath the same name,there might exist two souls. And he…might have to choose once more. Ling Shan held her gaze, uncertainty clouding his heart.
Her eyes were guileless. Almost innocent. No trace of malice. No shadow of venom. Whatever she was, she did not look like a calamity.
And yet, the storm had already begun.