The mountain path wound upward like a sleeping dragon's spine. Mist coiled between jagged cliffs, carrying the faint scent of rain and pine. Every few steps, faint carvings appeared on stones beside the trail—lotus blossoms, faded but not forgotten.
Lin Feng followed silently behind Yun Ruo, who moved with quiet grace, her robes whispering against the damp leaves. Her pace was steady, though now and then she glanced back, as if to make sure he was still there.
"Your body hasn't fully recovered," she said softly. "The qi of these mountains is thin. You'll tire easily."
"I've been through worse," Lin Feng replied, though a faint tremor betrayed the lie. His muscles still ached with each step, his meridians sluggish, as if his very soul had yet to settle after being burned by divine fire.
She paused briefly, turned, and met his gaze. "Strength isn't only the act of enduring pain."
He blinked, unsure how to respond. But then she smiled faintly and resumed walking.
By noon, they reached a terrace of pale stone that opened into a valley veiled in silver mist. From within that haze rose towers—graceful, slender, each topped with a lotus of carved jade. Bridges arched between them like strands of silk, and the faint chime of bells drifted through the air.
"The White Lotus Sect," Yun Ruo said quietly. "My home."
Lin Feng exhaled, awed. "It feels… untouched."
"It's meant to be." Her tone softened, carrying an undercurrent of melancholy. "We heal the world from the shadows. The wars of gods and men don't often reach us, though their wounds do."
As they entered the sect grounds, a few disciples glanced their way—some curious, some wary. Lin Feng could feel their qi senses brushing over him like ripples in a pond. He wasn't used to being studied so openly.
"Senior Sister Yun," one of the younger women called out, stepping forward. "You were gone for three days. Who is this man?"
Yun Ruo didn't hesitate. "A traveler caught in Heaven's lightning. He needs recovery. I'll take responsibility."
The disciple frowned slightly but bowed. "Yes, Senior Sister." Her eyes lingered on Lin Feng a moment longer before she turned away.
Lin Feng waited until they'd walked further before murmuring, "You didn't have to lie for me."
She gave him a sidelong glance. "If I said Heaven struck you for carrying a divine relic, would they have let you live past the gate?"
He fell silent.
Yun Ruo led him to a courtyard nestled beside a stream. The air there was cool and still, lotus petals drifting across the surface of the water like quiet thoughts.
"You can rest here," she said, setting down a small pouch of herbs. "Boil these with clear spring water three times a day. It'll help your body stabilize."
Lin Feng accepted it carefully. "You do this for all strangers you find struck by Heaven's lightning?"
That earned a rare, quiet laugh. "No. Only the ones who refuse to die."
Her tone was light, but something in her eyes flickered — not amusement, but recognition.
That night, the sect was cloaked in soft moonlight. Lanterns floated along the stream, their glow mingling with the reflection of the stars. Lin Feng sat beneath the veranda, the faint pulse of the parchment against his chest keeping him from sleep.
He could hear faint footsteps approaching. Yun Ruo appeared, carrying two cups of warm tea.
"You shouldn't strain your spirit," she said, setting one beside him. "The heavens marked you once already. Don't tempt them again."
He looked at her quietly for a long time. "Do you believe Heaven is just?"
She took a slow sip of tea before answering. "No. But it is absolute."
"And you accept that?"
Her eyes lifted to the moon, calm and distant. "Acceptance and surrender aren't the same. I heal what I can. The rest… I endure."
For a moment, neither spoke. The sound of the stream filled the silence, steady and low.
Lin Feng finally said, "If what I saw was true… the world above is breaking. The names written in the Record are fading. What happens when there are no gods left?"
Yun Ruo turned to him. In the lantern light, her face seemed almost ethereal — calm, but shadowed by something unspoken.
"Then perhaps," she whispered, "it will be mortals who must learn to take their place."
Their eyes met. For the first time, he sensed that she wasn't just a healer — but someone who had once stood close to the divine, and turned away.
High above the mountains, a streak of light tore across the sky.
Both of them looked up. For an instant, the heavens themselves trembled — a faint sound like the echo of a bell rippling through the clouds.
The parchment beneath Lin Feng's robes grew warm, and he knew, with a cold certainty, that whatever fate had bound him to that scroll… had begun to stir once more.
In a world ruled by gods,Even compassion could be rebellion.