The morning after Yue Lian's confession, the sky turned the color of old bruises.
Hanxi had spent the night studying the jade slip, absorbing what fragments of information it contained. The Twilight Dao wasn't just a cultivation method—it was a philosophy. A way of understanding that all things contained their opposite. Light held darkness. Strength required weakness. Life fed on death.
To walk the twilight path is to embrace paradox, the text read. The sun that rises must also set. The moon that wanes must also wax. Neither is complete without the other.
But the fragment was incomplete, ending abruptly mid-sentence: Those who seek the Third Moon must first—
Must first what? The text was corrupted, unreadable.
"Storm coming," Wei Feng announced, studying the clouds. "Big one. We need shelter."
Yue Chen consulted with his guards, then pointed ahead where the road forked. "There's an inn about five miles north. The Whispering Willow. We've used it before—the proprietor is trustworthy."
Something about the name made Hanxi's instincts prickle. "Are there other options?"
"Not within twenty miles. And this storm..." Wei Feng gestured at the clouds, which were now roiling like an angry sea. "This isn't natural weather. I can feel qi disturbances. Someone's either performing a major cultivation technique or something very large and very angry is nearby."
Thunder rolled across the sky, confirming his assessment.
"The Whispering Willow it is," Yue Chen decided.
As they traveled, the wind picked up, carrying scents that made Hanxi's wolf instincts scream warnings. Blood. Fear. Something burning that wasn't wood.
And underneath it all, a qi signature he'd felt once before—in the clearing where he'd fought the bandits. No, not fought. Before that. In the forest, when he'd first absorbed the wolf fang.
The Dusk Codex had been watching even then.
"Wei Feng," Hanxi said quietly, moving his horse alongside the guard captain's. "We need to skip this inn."
"You sense something?"
"I smell death ahead. Recent death. And..." Hanxi closed his eyes, extending his enhanced senses. "Cultivators. At least three, all with corrupted qi signatures. Twisted solar-lunar energy, like oil mixed with water."
Wei Feng's hand moved to his sword. "Dusk Codex?"
"Has to be. They're waiting for us. Or waiting for me, specifically."
"Can we outrun the storm?"
Hanxi looked at the sky. Lightning now danced between clouds, and the wind had become strong enough to rock the wagons. "No. If we try, we'll be caught in the open. At least at the inn we have walls and shelter."
"Walls can become traps."
"Yes. But I'm tired of running from these people." Hanxi's hand went to his sword. "Maybe it's time we had a conversation."
Wei Feng gave him a long look. "You're starting to think like a predator. That's good for survival, bad for your humanity."
"Right now, I'll take survival." Hanxi urged his horse forward. "But we need a plan. How many guards can we count on in a fight against cultivators?"
"Against Qi Condensation realm? Maybe four, including myself. The rest are regular soldiers—brave, but outmatched." Wei Feng's expression was grim. "If there are really three Dusk Codex cultivators waiting, we're in trouble. Their techniques are designed to counter both solar and lunar cultivation. They've had a century to perfect fighting people like you."
"Then we don't fight fair."
"Now you're talking my language."
The inn appeared through the rain like a specter—a two-story building with a willow tree growing through its center courtyard, branches spreading over the roof like protective arms. Under normal circumstances, it might have looked welcoming.
Right now, it looked like a tomb.
"I don't see anyone," Xiaohua observed, her hand on her sword. "No lights, no smoke from the chimney. No one tending the stables."
"They're here," Hanxi said. His enhanced senses painted a clear picture: three cultivators hiding their presence in different parts of the inn. Several corpses—the inn's staff and previous guests, killed to clear the location. And something else. Someone else. A fourth presence, old and powerful, that felt neither corrupted nor hostile.
Just watching.
Yue Chen made the decision. "We have no choice. Guards, maintain vigilance. Young Master Wāng, stay close to my daughter."
They pulled the wagons into the courtyard, where the willow tree's branches provided some shelter from the driving rain. Hanxi helped Yue Lian down from her wagon, and she grabbed his arm, her grip tight.
"I can feel them too," she whispered. "Three cultivators, Qi Condensation mid-levels. Their qi is wrong—twisted. Like someone tried to force light and darkness together and created only shadow."
"Can you tell where they are?"
"One in the main hall. One upstairs. One in the kitchen." She pointed to each location without looking directly at them. "But there's someone else. An old woman, I think. She's in the cellar, and her qi is... strange. Powerful but somehow absent. Like she's hiding in plain sight."
"The innkeeper?"
"Maybe. Or maybe the person we're really here to meet." Yue Lian's eyes met his. "That jade slip I gave you? One of the fragments mentioned that the Third Moon sometimes takes on mundane identities. Hides in plain sight. Tests those who seek her."
Before Hanxi could respond, the inn's front door swung open.
A woman stood in the doorway—ancient, bent with age, wearing simple servant's robes. Her hair was white as snow, her face weathered by centuries. But her eyes...
Her eyes were the gray of perfect twilight, where day and night became one.
"Travelers seeking shelter from the storm?" Her voice was surprisingly strong, carrying easily over the wind. "Come in, come in. Though I'm afraid my usual hospitality is... limited today. The staff has taken ill, you see. Very suddenly."
The lie was so blatant it was almost insulting.
Yue Chen hesitated, but what choice did they have? Lightning cracked across the sky, and rain began falling in earnest. "We appreciate your generosity, grandmother. We'll pay fair coin for rooms and food."
"Oh, there'll be payment," the old woman said, her smile revealing teeth too sharp to be entirely human. "One way or another, there's always payment."
She stepped aside, gesturing them in.
Hanxi woke to pain.
Not the sharp, immediate pain of battle injuries, but the deep, fundamental agony of meridians that had been pushed to their absolute limit and then beyond. It felt like his entire qi network had been rebuilt from shattered glass.
"Don't move," Grandmother Willow's voice commanded. She sat beside the bed, her hands glowing with that strange gray energy. "Your meridians are still settling. If you disrupt them now, they'll fracture again."
"How long—"
"Three days. You've been unconscious for three days while I repaired the damage you did to yourself." Her expression was stern. "That Twilight Fang technique you created? It should have killed you. You channeled more energy than your foundation could possibly support."
"But it worked."
"It worked. And in doing so, it changed you fundamentally." She removed her hands, and the gray glow faded. "Your meridians have been restructured. Not purely solar, not purely lunar, but something in between. You can't go back to single-path cultivation now even if you wanted to. You're committed to the twilight path."
Hanxi sat up slowly, every movement causing ripples of discomfort. "The Third Moon. Will she train me?"
"She'll test you first. Three trials, though you've already passed the first two—hunting and protection." Grandmother Willow poured tea with practiced ease. "The third trial is the hardest: sacrifice. You'll have to choose between power and humanity. Between the beast and the man. Between what you want and what you need."
"When?"
"When you reach the capital. She waits there, in hiding, watching for those worthy of her teaching. If you pass her final test, she'll take you as a student. If you fail..." Grandmother Willow's expression was unreadable. "Then you become what so many before you have become: another Dusk Codex cultivator, corrupted by power you can't control."
"I won't—"
"Everyone says that. Most are wrong." She set down the teapot. "Do you understand what you're attempting, moon-child? The Twilight Dao was forbidden for a reason. Those who master it become something the Heavens themselves fear—cultivators who can fight equally against any opponent, who adapt to any situation, who refuse to be constrained by the rigid hierarchy of cultivation realms."
"That sounds like a good thing."
"To mortals, perhaps. To the Heavens? It's heresy. Balance is not about having equal amounts of opposing forces—it's about knowing which force should dominate in which situation. The cultivation world is built on this principle. Solar cultivators excel in certain conditions, lunar cultivators in others. But twilight cultivators? They excel in all conditions. They're unpredictable. Dangerous. Too powerful."
She leaned forward, her gray eyes intense. "The Heavenly Tribulation you'll face when advancing realms will be twice as fierce as normal. The Heavens will try to kill you at every step. And if you somehow survive to higher realms? The cultivation world itself will turn against you. Sects will unite to eliminate you. They can't allow someone who breaks the rules to exist."
"Then why did the Third Moon take students at all?"
"Because she believes the system is wrong. That the Heavens are wrong. That power should flow freely, not be constrained by arbitrary rules." Grandmother Willow's voice held old passion. "Three hundred years ago, she tried to change the cultivation world. She trained a dozen students in the Twilight Dao. Do you know how many survived?"
"One?"
"Zero. They were all hunted down and killed. The Third Moon herself barely escaped with her life. She went into hiding, swearing she'd never teach again." Grandmother Willow's expression softened slightly. "But three hundred years of watching the cultivation world stagnate, of seeing talented people destroyed by rigid thinking, has changed her mind. She's willing to try again. To take one student. To see if anyone can succeed where her previous students failed."
"Why me?"
"Because you're already broken. Already walking the path whether you chose it or not. Already marked for death by the Dusk Codex." Grandmother Willow smiled without humor. "You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. That desperation makes you a good candidate. Or a tragic one. Time will tell which."
Hanxi absorbed this in silence. Then: "The man I killed—Red Mask. He said something about a Crimson Moon ritual. An eclipse. Six months."
"Ah." Grandmother Willow's expression grew grim. "So they're finally attempting it. I'd hoped they wouldn't be ready so soon."
"What ritual?"
"The Crimson Moon Ritual is the Dusk Codex's greatest ambition. A ceremony that would allow them to forcibly stabilize their corrupted cultivation by sacrificing someone with natural dual-path abilities." She gestured at Hanxi. "Someone exactly like you. They would drain your cultivation base, absorb your natural twilight energy, and use it to perfect their stolen techniques."
"Can it work?"
"In theory? Yes. In practice, it requires very specific conditions: a lunar eclipse, a location where ley lines converge, and most importantly, a willing or unconscious sacrifice with perfect natural balance between solar and lunar energies." Her eyes bore into him. "That's why they've been hunting you since the moment you absorbed that wolf fang. You're the missing piece they need."
Hanxi felt cold dread settle in his stomach. "How do I stop them?"
"Become strong enough that they can't take you. Master the Twilight Dao. Survive the Third Moon's trials. Reach Foundation Establishment before the eclipse in six months." Grandmother Willow's voice was hard. "Or die trying. Those are your options."
She stood, moving to the door. "The caravan leaves tomorrow morning. Your companions are waiting—they've been quite worried. The clever merchant girl in particular has been insistent on seeing you."
"Yue Lian?"
"She's more invested in your survival than she admits. I suspect she's planning to use you for more than just protection." Grandmother Willow paused at the threshold. "Be careful with that one. She wears her naivety like armor, but underneath she's calculating every angle. She'll help you—but only as long as helping you serves her goals."
"I know."
"Good. Smart cultivators stay alive. Trusting cultivators become corpses." She pulled something from her robes—a small jade token carved with the symbol of a sun and moon overlapping. "Take this. When you reach the capital, go to Moon Mirror Lake. Stand at the shore when both sun and moon are visible in the water. Break this token. She'll come."
"The Third Moon?"
"Her or her representative. Either way, your real trials will begin." Grandmother Willow's smile was sharp. "Try not to die before then. It would be such a waste."
She left, closing the door behind her.
Hanxi sat in the quiet room, holding the jade token, thinking about everything he'd learned. Six months until the eclipse. Six months to master an impossible cultivation path. Six months to become strong enough to fight off an entire heretical sect.
Third trial approaches, the wolf's voice whispered. Sacrifice. What will you give up to survive? Your humanity? Your morals? The people you care about?
Choose wisely, moon-child. Choose who you become.
Hanxi closed his eyes, feeling the new structure of his meridians—gray where they should be gold or silver, twilight where they should be day or night.
There was no going back now.
Only forward.
Into the storm.
In the capital city, within a compound hidden behind layers of defensive formations, a woman sat in meditation.
She appeared to be in her thirties—elegant, ageless, with hair that seemed to shift between black and white depending on the light. When she opened her eyes, they were the perfect gray of twilight, holding centuries of knowledge and sorrow.
"He survived the first test," she said to the empty room. Or perhaps not empty—shadows stirred in the corners, suggesting presence without form.
"The boy killed three Dusk Codex cultivators and achieved a temporary twilight state," a voice responded from the darkness. Male, ancient, carrying the weight of time. "Impressive for someone so young and untrained."
"Impressive, yes. But is he strong enough? Is he worthy?" The woman stood, moving to a window that overlooked the city. "I've waited three hundred years for a suitable student. I won't rush this decision because he shows promise. They all showed promise. All my previous students. All twelve of them."
"And all twelve died."
"Because I taught them too much, too fast. Because I believed talent was enough." Her voice held old pain. "This time will be different. This time, I'll ensure he's truly ready before I reveal the deeper secrets of the Twilight Dao."
"The Dusk Codex is moving. They've begun gathering materials for the Crimson Moon Ritual. If the boy doesn't reach Foundation Establishment before the eclipse—"
"Then he'll die, and I'll wait another three hundred years for the next candidate." The woman's tone was cold, practical. "I won't risk everything for one boy, no matter how promising. He must prove himself worthy of my teaching. Prove he can walk the impossible path without losing himself."
"And if he does prove himself?"
The woman smiled, and for just a moment, power radiated from her like pressure from a star. Her cultivation base, usually hidden, flickered into visibility—not Foundation Establishment, not Core Formation, not even Nascent Soul.
Higher. Much higher.
"Then perhaps the cultivation world will finally learn," she said softly, "that the Heavens don't get to decide who is worthy of power. We do. Through our choices. Through our sacrifices. Through our refusal to accept the limits others place on us."
She turned from the window. "Send word to Grandmother Willow. Tell her to watch the boy closely during his journey to the capital. I want reports on every decision he makes, every choice he faces. And most importantly—I want to know what he chooses when forced to choose between power and those he cares about."
"You'll stage the third trial?"
"Not stage. Observe. The trial will come naturally—it always does. The universe has a way of testing those who walk impossible paths." The woman's gray eyes gleamed with something that might have been anticipation or might have been sadness. "And when it comes, when he's forced to sacrifice something precious for power, I'll see what kind of man he truly is."
"And if he makes the wrong choice?"
"Then I'll kill him myself before the Dusk Codex can claim him. Better a quick death than slow corruption." Her voice was flat, absolute. "Three hundred years ago, I made the mistake of showing mercy to a student who chose poorly. He became the founder of the modern Dusk Codex. I won't repeat that error."
The shadows fell silent, and the woman returned to her meditation, her consciousness stretching across the city, feeling every qi fluctuation, every disturbance, every cultivator moving through her territory.
Somewhere out there, a boy named Wāng Hanxi was traveling toward his destiny—though whether that destiny was greatness or destruction remained to be seen.
Choose well, moon-child, she thought. Because I'm watching. And I don't forgive mistakes.
Back at the Whispering Willow Inn, Yue Lian sat beside Hanxi's bed, watching him sleep. The jade slip she'd given him sat on the bedside table, its information already absorbed.
"You're in so much danger," she whispered, though he couldn't hear. "And I brought you deeper into it. Used you for my own goals. My revenge against my cousin seems so petty now compared to what you're facing."
She reached out, almost touching his hand, then pulled back. "But I can help. I have resources, information, connections. The merchant networks know things the cultivation sects don't. And I..." She paused, her expression conflicted. "I need you to succeed. Not just for my protection, but because..."
She couldn't finish the thought. Didn't want to examine too closely why she cared so much about a boy she'd met only weeks ago. A boy who was becoming something strange and dangerous and magnificent.
"Don't die," she said finally. "Whatever trials come, whatever choices you face—survive. Please. The cultivation world needs people like you. People who refuse to accept the limits others place on them."
She stood, adjusting her robes back into her carefully maintained appearance of naive merchant princess. The mask she wore for the world.
But alone, in this quiet room, she allowed herself a moment of honesty: "I need you too. Even if you never know it."
Then she left, closing the door softly, returning to her role, her plans, her carefully constructed web of deception and survival.
Behind her, Hanxi's eyes flickered open for just a moment. He'd heard every word.
But he pretended he hadn't, because some truths were too complicated to face right now.
He had six months to become strong enough to survive.
Six months to master an impossible path.
Six months to decide what he was willing to sacrifice.
The twilight comes for us all, the Moon had said.
Hanxi closed his eyes and dreamed of gray skies, of running between shadow and light, of a path that led somewhere no one had walked in three hundred years.
And in his dreams, the wolves howled approval.
Third trial soon, they sang. Sacrifice comes. Choose your pain, moon-child. Choose what you lose.
Choose who you become.
Morning couldn't come fast enough.