Heavenpiercer's tip touched the place where the bell's hook did not "exist."
The air screamed anyway.
It was not a normal sound. It was like the world had been holding its breath for a thousand years, and someone finally pinched it. The dome shook. The light inside the Court barrier bent like soft glass. For one heartbeat, everyone saw two versions of the battlefield at the same time—one where Ling Xueyao was standing, and one where she had already fallen.
Then it snapped back.
Qi Shan Wei did not step back. He did not blink. His arm stayed steady, as if he was drawing a straight line on paper.
A thin prismatic cut appeared in the air. It was not wide. It was not flashy. It was clean. Too clean. Like a ruler had been pressed against reality.
The invisible hook pulling the Frost Thread shivered.
And then—something impossible happened.
A drop of silver light leaked out of nothing.
It fell slowly, like a tear.
The Court elders froze. Their faces went stiff, like masks. They were used to seeing blood. They were used to seeing souls break. But they were not used to seeing law bleed.
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes changed for the first time. Not fear. Not anger. Just a sharp, quiet shock, like a scholar seeing the page of an ancient book rip in half.
"The hook…" he whispered. "It was cut."
The bell answered at once.
A third ring came, deeper than the others. The sound did not bounce. It did not spread like normal sound. It dropped through the dome like a heavy stone falling into a lake.
Many people outside the barrier screamed and grabbed their heads. A few spat blood. Some did not even understand why they were suffering—they only knew their bones felt "wrong," like time had pressed them down.
Inside the dome, Qi Shan Wei stood like a mountain.
But Ling Xueyao jerked as if someone had yanked her heart with a hidden chain. The Frost Thread above the platform pulled again—harder. The thread did not just pull now. It vibrated, like a string about to snap.
Ling Xueyao's lips parted. Her breath came out white. The frozen law scars around her body flared like cracks of moonlight in ice. Behind her, the shadow of a pale moon tried to form again.
Her Lunar Frost Domain was being forced open.
Not gently.
Not naturally.
It was being torn out of her by pressure.
Qi Shan Wei's prismatic bracelet around her wrist flashed bright. The light did not wrap her like a cage. It wrapped her like a steady hand.
"Breathe," he said, quiet and firm. "Do not let it drag your mind away."
Ling Xueyao's throat tightened. She nodded once, like a sword nodding to its master before a duel. She tried to match his breathing again. One breath. Two. Three.
The moon-shadow behind her steadied for half a heartbeat—then shook again as the bell rang once more.
Above the Court platform, words burned into the air, written in ancient light.
PAY WITH THE FROST THREAD. NOW.
A Court elder's mouth curled, almost pleased. "So even time agrees," he said. "Sever it."
Qi Shan Wei did not look at him. His voice stayed calm, but the air around him turned colder than steel. "Speak again," he said softly, "and you will learn what 'sever' truly means."
The elder's smile vanished.
The bell did not care about threats.
The hook pulled again, and the Frost Thread began to tear. Not fully. Just enough for everyone to see small cracks of pale light crawling along it.
Ling Xueyao made a small sound, like pain swallowed too fast. Her body leaned forward half a step without her meaning to. The thread was not pulling her arm. It was pulling something deeper.
It was pulling the bond itself.
Zhen moved like a shield that did not need fear to act. His feet locked, his runes flared, and his voice stayed flat. "Risk level: critical. If thread tears, long-term bond recovery probability drops."
Drakonix hissed from inside the cocoon. "Stop… talking… and bite it…"
Zhen replied instantly, perfectly serious. "I do not have teeth."
Drakonix made an angry sound that was half roar and half baby dragon growl. "Then… grow some…"
The tiny humor lasted one breath. Then the bell rang again, and even laughter felt dangerous.
Qi Shan Wei raised two fingers.
A public-grade formation disc appeared in the air, bronze and plain—the kind rich people bought to protect a mansion.
Nine-Fold Stillwater Barrier.
He did not place it as a wall. He spread it like calm water under everyone's feet.
The bell's pressure hit the "still water" and softened. Just a little. Like a fist hitting a thick pillow.
The hook slowed for one breath.
One breath was enough.
Qi Shan Wei moved Heavenpiercer again—small, precise, like a doctor cutting only what must be cut.
The prismatic line in the air widened by the width of a hair.
More silver light leaked out. Not a flood. Just a few drops.
The hook trembled.
Then the bell reacted in a way that made the Silent Bell envoy go still.
The Time-Debt Ledger flared. The names on it blurred for half a moment, as if the bell was angry that its writing was being questioned.
A new line formed below the old demand.
IF NOT THREAD… THEN NAME.
Many people outside the dome stopped breathing.
A name was not just a label here. In cultivation, a true name was a root. A pillar. If a name was taken, a person could be rewritten. Memories could shift. Bonds could rot. Existence could slide sideways.
Ling Xueyao's eyes widened. Not fear of death—fear of being lost in a way she could not fight.
Qi Shan Wei looked at the words. His face did not change. But the air around him felt heavier, like the world had placed a crown of pressure on his head and he accepted it without bending.
"Trying to trade," he said calmly.
The Silent Bell envoy whispered, almost to himself, "It should not be able to threaten that freely…"
A Court elder snapped, "Enough riddles! If the bell demands, let it take! He is unstable. He is a danger to order!"
Qi Shan Wei finally turned his eyes toward the elder. His gaze was not loud. It was not angry. It was worse. It was calm certainty.
"Order," Qi Shan Wei said, "is not your toy."
The elder flinched like he had been slapped by a cold wind.
The Frost Thread pulled again. It tore a little more. A thin crack of pale frost light spread along it, and Ling Xueyao's body shook.
Behind her, the pale moon shadow flashed brighter—half a moon now, huge and quiet, like a blade made of winter. The air froze. The bell's hook slowed, turning stiff as if it had been dipped in ice.
Frozen law touched bell-law again.
For one heartbeat, time hesitated.
Qi Shan Wei's eyes narrowed. He saw the opening, the tiny "gap" the bell left when it fought both prismatic law and frozen law at once.
He did not shout orders. He did not panic. His voice stayed level.
"Zhen," he said.
Zhen answered instantly. "Command accepted."
Qi Shan Wei lifted his hand and drew a formation in the air with one smooth motion. The pattern looked simple—too simple. A circle. A cross-line. A quiet anchor mark.
Heaven-Anchor Bastion.
A formation the world fought over at auctions. A "foundational" array.
He used it in a way the world had never imagined.
He did not anchor a city wall. He anchored the thread itself.
A prismatic nail of light appeared and pinned the Frost Thread to the sky like a star pinned to a board. The thread stopped moving for one breath.
The bell's words flickered like an angry judge.
Ling Xueyao's breath hitched. She stared at the prismatic nail, then at Qi Shan Wei, like she could not decide if she was shocked or… seen.
Qi Shan Wei stepped close. He did not hold her like a lover in a soft story. He stood like a ruler shielding a treasure that could not be replaced.
He placed two fingers lightly against the bracelet formation around her wrist, strengthening it with steady prismatic energy. His voice was low.
"You will not be taken," he said.
Ling Xueyao's eyes shook for a second. Her pride did not let tears fall, but her voice came out tight. "If it cuts the thread… I—"
"I will not allow it," Qi Shan Wei said.
It was not a promise said for romance. It was a command said to fate.
For a heartbeat, Ling Xueyao's Lunar Frost Domain calmed. The moon-shadow behind her steadied, becoming less wild, less forced. Her breathing matched his again.
Outside the dome, the Thousand Masks watchers moved.
One masked woman lifted her hand, and a thin black clause mark glowed on her palm. Her voice was a whisper, but it carried like poison.
"Clause activated," she said. "Kill without karmic debt."
The trapped assassin's body jerked like a puppet being pulled by a new string. Their cracked mask turned toward Qi Shan Wei with empty eyes. The fear in them vanished—replaced by cold obedience.
They moved.
Not toward Qi Shan Wei's chest. Not toward his throat.
Toward Ling Xueyao.
Because the bell wanted the Frost Thread.
And the Pavilion wanted the easiest cut.
The assassin's hand became a blade of black shadow, sharp enough to split spirit lines. They lunged straight for Ling Xueyao's wrist—straight for the bracelet formation.
Zhen stepped into the path without hesitation.
His core flared crimson. The Imperial Shield Matrix unfolded like a fortress blooming. The shield did not stay still this time. It moved with him, a heavy dome within the dome, sliding to cover Ling Xueyao, Drakonix's cocoon, and Qi Shan Wei's position in one smooth motion.
"Imperial Shield Matrix," Zhen said. "Second Layer: Moving Bastion."
The assassin slammed into the shield and bounced back as if they hit a mountain. Black smoke splashed across the barrier and burned away.
The assassin screamed—this time in true fear—because the "no karma" clause could not protect them from being crushed by clean defense that did not count as "revenge."
The Silent Bell envoy stared at Zhen's shield like he was seeing a new kind of law. "It bends pressure," he said quietly. "It bends sound."
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "Sound is movement. Movement follows rules."
The envoy's bell trembled against his chest. His face tightened. "These rules… are too stable."
Drakonix's cocoon cracked again.
A loud tearing sound echoed through the dome, like silk ripping in a storm. A full prismatic wing pushed out, bigger now, stronger, the feathers made of flame and colored light. The wing spread wide, and the air smelled like clean heat—like fire that burned lies instead of wood.
Drakonix's voice came out rough but proud. "Stop… pulling… what's mine."
The bell rang again, as if offended.
Drakonix snapped his wing forward. His prismatic flame touched the air-hook again—biting it like a wild beast biting an old chain.
This time the hook did not only resist.
It burned.
A tiny crack of silver smoke rose from nothing, and the whole dome went silent for one heartbeat.
The Court elders' faces changed.
Because now it was clear: the bell could be hurt.
Not easily. Not fully. But it could be hurt.
The Silent Bell envoy's voice dropped. "That flame… is not only fire," he whispered. "It is law that eats writing."
Drakonix huffed, and even half-born, he found the energy to be jealous. His wing twitched toward Ling Xueyao like a warning sign. "No… stealing… him…"
Ling Xueyao's eyes narrowed through pain. "I am not stealing—"
The Frost Thread trembled again, and her words broke into a sharp breath.
Qi Shan Wei did not scold Drakonix. He did not comfort him with jokes. He simply stood between all of them and the bell and acted like an emperor facing a storm he planned to control.
He lifted Heavenpiercer again.
Not high. Not dramatic.
Just enough to show his decision.
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes widened. "If you cut deeper," the envoy warned softly, "the Bell may answer with a payment you cannot predict."
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed level. "Then I will predict it."
The Court elder snapped, "Arrogance!"
Qi Shan Wei did not even glance at him this time. "Truth," he said.
The bell rang again.
And then… the air above the platform changed.
The old words—PAY WITH THE FROST THREAD—did not vanish.
But they were overwritten by something else.
A new sentence stamped itself into the sky, heavier and darker than the others, like a judge using a final seal.
PAYMENT DEFERRED.COLLECTION MOVED TO: HEAVEN'S LIGHTNING.
The Silent Bell envoy went still.
His hands tightened together. The small bell on his chest shook like it was afraid.
A Court elder whispered, "Lightning…?"
Outside the dome, the sky above the realm flickered. Not thunder yet. Not a storm yet. Just a thin crack of bright white light, like a vein opening in the heavens.
For one heartbeat, lightning did not fall downward.
It turned sideways.
Like it was looking.
Qi Shan Wei stared at the crack in the sky. His face remained calm, but his eyes sharpened into pure focus.
Ling Xueyao whispered, voice small, "That… feels like selection."
Drakonix's wing shook. His flame rose. "Heaven… sniffing…"
Zhen spoke, perfectly blunt, at the worst possible time. "Conclusion: the bell is calling a stronger collector."
The Silent Bell envoy's voice came out low and tight.
"The Heavens Begin to Move," he said. "If the bell has shifted the debt into lightning…"
He looked at Qi Shan Wei like he was looking at a man standing in front of a door that gods feared to open.
"…then the next ring will not be heard by ears," the envoy finished. "It will be heard by fate."
Qi Shan Wei lifted Heavenpiercer one last inch.
His voice was calm.
"Then we will answer," he said.
The crack in the sky widened.
And somewhere far above the realm, thunder made a sound like a giant waking up and remembering a name.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
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