The bell rang again.
It did not feel like sound. It felt like a rule being pushed into the world.
Two invisible hooks pulled at once.
One on the Frost Thread.
One on the Phoenix Thread.
Ling Xueyao's breath came out in sharp white lines. Her body trembled, and behind her, the pale moon-shadow of her Lunar Frost Domain shook like it wanted to rise fully and swallow the battlefield in silent winter.
Feng Qingyue's eyes widened as if she had been burned from inside. A hot, proud glow flashed behind her ribs, like a phoenix wing beating in pain. Her fists clenched, but the pull was not on her hands.
It was on the line tied to her fate.
Above the Court platform, the ancient words still floated in the air, cold and absolute:
PAY WITH TWO THREADS.
The Court elder at the front smiled like a starving man who had finally found meat.
"Good," he whispered. "Let the bell take them. Let the world see he cannot hold what he claims."
Qi Shan Wei finally looked at him.
He did not glare.
He did not shout.
His calm gaze landed like a mountain sitting on the elder's chest.
The elder's smile froze.
Then Shan Wei looked back up at the words in the air.
His voice was quiet, but it carried command.
"That sentence," Shan Wei said, "is not truth."
The Silent Bell envoy's chest bell trembled. His eyes narrowed slightly, like he had heard something he did not expect from a mortal realm.
"The Bell wrote it," the envoy said.
Qi Shan Wei answered without moving. "Then the Bell can be corrected."
Outside the dome, lightning curled in the clouds like a restless beast. It hunted, but it also listened. It felt the thunder mark on Shan Wei's chest. It felt his refusal. It felt the bell's hunger.
It did not strike.
It waited.
Zhen stood one step in front of the cocoon, his Fortress Lock shield lines groaning as the bell's pressure kept pressing down like a giant finger. His voice stayed flat.
"Warning: Fortress Lock strain rising," Zhen reported. "Projected failure: ninety-four breaths, if pressure increases."
From the cracked cocoon, Drakonix's newborn wing twitched hard. Thunderflame spilled in thin, angry lines. His voice came out rough and stubborn.
"Not… taking…" he growled. "Ours…"
Then he added, very weak but very jealous, like he could not help himself even now.
"Two… girls… too much…"
Zhen replied at once, timing too perfect, voice too blunt.
"Correction: six threads exist. Two are currently under attack. Your jealousy is mathematically premature."
Drakonix hissed. "Shut… math…"
That tiny pressure valve lasted only one breath.
Then the Frost Thread yanked again.
Ling Xueyao gasped. The moon-shadow behind her flared brighter, and the air around her turned sharp, like glass in cold light.
Qi Shan Wei's prismatic bracelet formation around her wrist flared, steady and protective. He did not grab her. He did not hold her like a desperate man.
He held the line that held her steady.
"Stay with me," he said.
Ling Xueyao's throat tightened. She nodded once, eyes wet for one tiny moment, then sharp again.
"I will," she whispered, like a vow.
At the same time, the Phoenix Thread pulled.
Feng Qingyue's breath broke. A small sound escaped her, angry and afraid at once. Not fear of pain.
Fear of being taken away from what she had chosen.
Shan Wei turned his head slightly toward her.
He did not speak sweet words.
He only did what an emperor does.
He protected.
A thin prismatic line appeared in the air and wrapped around Qingyue's wrist as well—same style, same meaning.
Not a chain.
A guard.
Feng Qingyue's eyes widened. Her phoenix glow steadied by a hair. She swallowed hard.
"Shan Wei…" she whispered.
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "Hold."
Two simple words.
But they landed like a shield.
The Silent Bell envoy watched this closely. Then his bell rang once, very lightly, like a warning that kindness did not change the law.
"You are anchoring them," the envoy said.
Qi Shan Wei did not deny it. "Yes."
The envoy's face stayed still. "The Bell will pull harder."
Qi Shan Wei answered, calm as stone. "Then I will cut deeper."
The Court elder at the front snapped, finally losing his mask of control.
"You dare speak like you can command time?" he spat. "If you refuse, the Bell adds punishment!"
The envoy's eyes shifted slightly.
For the first time, his calm did not feel neutral.
It felt heavy.
The envoy looked at Shan Wei and spoke one sentence that made the whole dome colder.
"Refusal adds interest."
The words hit the air like a stamp.
Outside the dome, cultivators swallowed hard. Some stepped back without thinking.
Interest.
That was a merchant word.
A cruel word.
A word that meant the debt would grow even if you did nothing.
Qi Shan Wei's eyes narrowed by the smallest amount.
"Explain," he said.
The envoy lifted his hand, and the Time-Debt Ledger line shimmered in the air. The silver script shifted like a living record.
"Years," the envoy said. "Memory. Threads."
Then he added, quiet and sharp.
"When you refuse, Time records it as resistance. Resistance costs stability. Stability is paid with more."
The Court elder smiled again, sure of victory. "So he cannot refuse."
Qi Shan Wei looked at the elder again, and his calm became colder.
"You still misunderstand," Shan Wei said.
"I am not refusing to pay."
He raised Heavenpiercer slightly.
"I am refusing your choice of payment."
The bell rang.
The two hooks pulled hard.
The Frost Thread cracked again.
The Phoenix Thread tightened like a burning wire.
Ling Xueyao's Lunar Frost Domain surged—her pale moon-shadow almost becoming real. Frozen law scars crawled along the air like thin white cracks.
Feng Qingyue's phoenix glow flared, hot and proud, and a faint fire-feather shape shimmered behind her shoulder, like a bird trying to wake.
Zhen's Fortress Lock groaned.
Drakonix growled, thunderflame spilling like newborn rage.
Qi Shan Wei moved.
Not forward.
Sideways.
Between the moment.
Flashbreak Interval.
For a fraction of a heartbeat, Shan Wei was not inside the same "now" that the bell was pulling on. The hooks yanked—
And felt empty.
Qi Shan Wei appeared half a step to the left, blade already lifted.
To the world, it looked like he had not moved.
Then it looked like the air had been cut.
Heavenpiercer traced a clean line across the ancient sentence floating above the Court platform.
Not across the threads.
Across the words.
The blade did not cut paper.
It cut law that had decided it was allowed to exist.
The air screamed.
The ancient sentence flickered hard.
PAY WITH TWO THREADS.
The words shook, like a judge being grabbed by the collar.
The Court elders' eyes widened.
A few people outside the dome shouted in panic, "He's cutting the Bell's writing!"
The Silent Bell envoy's chest bell trembled violently for the first time.
"Stop," the envoy said quietly.
Qi Shan Wei did not stop.
He only asked one question.
"Is the Bell allowed to collect years?" Shan Wei asked.
The envoy's eyes tightened. "Yes."
"Is it allowed to collect memory?" Shan Wei asked.
"Yes."
"Is it allowed to collect threads?" Shan Wei asked.
"Yes."
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "Then it is allowed to collect years from the guilty."
The Court elder snapped. "There is no such rule!"
Qi Shan Wei looked at him like he was looking at a child who did not understand how systems work.
"Everything has rules," Shan Wei said. "If it can collect, it can be directed."
He lifted two fingers again.
A formation disc appeared in the air.
Small.
Plain.
Bronze.
To the outside world, it looked like one of his "simple" export constructs.
But the way Shan Wei placed it was not simple.
He placed it under the floating words, like a seal under a decree.
The disc spun once.
Then prismatic lines rose from it and formed a thin, clean grid in the air.
A writing frame.
A place where law could be told what shape to take.
Zhen's voice came out flat, like a report.
"Observation: Master is building a law-interface."
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes sharpened. "That is… dangerous."
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed steady. "Everything dangerous is real."
The bell rang again, angry now.
The hooks pulled hard.
Ling Xueyao gasped. Feng Qingyue's breath shook.
Qi Shan Wei lifted Heavenpiercer and cut again—this time, not at the hook, not at the words, but at the space where "interest" lived.
A thin hidden line, like a second sentence behind the first.
The blade touched it.
Thunder flared inside the prismatic edge.
The line burned.
For one heartbeat, the pull weakened.
Zhen's shield lines stopped groaning for that one heartbeat.
Drakonix's newborn wing snapped wider.
He forced his thunderflame into the hook again, biting it with pain in his voice.
"Mine… sky… mine… rules…"
Qi Shan Wei spoke without looking back. "Do not break yourself."
Drakonix huffed. "Then… hurry…"
Qi Shan Wei's calm did not change.
He moved his fingers in the air like he was drawing a simple shape for a child to copy.
A box.
A line.
A mark.
Prismatic glyph forging.
His new language.
His signature.
The grid in the air accepted it.
The bell rang again.
The ancient sentence shook.
Qi Shan Wei wrote one new line beneath it, calm and clear:
PAY WITH YEARS — FROM THE GUILTY.
The words formed in light.
Not as decoration.
As a rule being offered to the Bell.
The Silent Bell envoy's eyes widened slightly.
That tiny change was huge.
Because Shan Wei was not begging.
He was not arguing.
He was giving Time a clean path that still followed the allowed categories.
Years.
Not threads.
Not names.
Years.
The bell hesitated.
For the first time, it hesitated.
The Court elder at the front went pale. "No… you can't—"
Qi Shan Wei turned his blade slightly toward the trapped assassin who still trembled under the broken Thousand Masks contract seal.
The assassin's mask was cracked. The time mark burned on their spirit like a brand.
Qi Shan Wei's voice was calm.
"You came with a clause," he said. "Kill without karmic debt."
The assassin's breath rattled. "We were promised—"
Qi Shan Wei cut the air with one small motion.
Not an attack.
A command.
The Time-Debt Ledger flared above, and the bell's sound moved like a hand… but not toward the women's threads.
It moved toward the assassin.
The assassin screamed.
Not because of pain in the body.
Because something inside them was being drained like water poured out of a cup.
Years.
The bell took years.
Fast.
The assassin's hair turned pale in a blink. Their skin lost color. Their eyes went dull with terror.
They fell to their knees, shaking.
The Court elders froze.
The crowd outside the dome went silent.
Even the Thousand Masks watchers went stiff.
A masked woman whispered, voice shaking, "That clause… it really was bait…"
The Silent Bell envoy's face was tight. "You redirected payment."
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "I offered lawful payment."
The envoy's bell trembled like it was angry.
"But you chose the target," the envoy said.
Qi Shan Wei looked at him. "I chose the guilty."
The bell rang again.
The pull on the Frost Thread weakened.
The pull on the Phoenix Thread loosened.
Ling Xueyao inhaled sharply, like someone who had been under water and finally reached air.
Feng Qingyue's shoulders dropped by a hair, still tense, but not tearing.
Zhen's Fortress Lock steadied.
"Updated projection," Zhen said flatly. "Shield failure delayed. Current estimate: stable, if Bell accepts new payment path."
Drakonix's thunderflame wing trembled, and he made a rough proud sound, like a baby dragon trying to laugh.
"Good… emperor…"
Then he added, weak and possessive, as if he needed the world to know.
"Mine."
Qi Shan Wei did not answer that.
His eyes stayed on the air where the Bell's sentence floated.
The ancient words flickered.
PAY WITH TWO THREADS.
The new words below it shone steady.
PAY WITH YEARS — FROM THE GUILTY.
For a heartbeat, it looked like the Bell might accept it fully.
Then the bell rang.
Lower.
Deeper.
Colder.
The Silent Bell envoy's face changed.
Not fear.
Concern.
Because the bell was not satisfied.
The air above the Court platform shifted again.
The old sentence shattered into dust-light.
A new sentence formed.
Short.
Cruel.
Absolute.
PAY BACK INTEREST.
The Court elder's eyes lit up again. "Yes—"
Qi Shan Wei's gaze cut him off like a blade.
The elder's mouth closed.
Qi Shan Wei spoke once, calm and cold.
"I already burned the interest line."
The envoy's voice came out quiet. "You burned a line," he said. "But the Bell does not only write one."
The bell rang again.
And another line appeared under the sentence, like a hidden rule being revealed:
INTEREST MUST BE PERSONAL.
The dome went cold.
Ling Xueyao's fingers curled.
Feng Qingyue's jaw tightened.
Zhen's armor plates shifted as if he was ready to step forward and break himself first.
Drakonix's wing shook, thunderflame flaring, angry and stubborn.
Qi Shan Wei's face did not change.
But the air around him felt heavier.
"Personal," Shan Wei repeated.
The envoy's eyes were like still water. "Years from the guilty may cover the base debt," he said. "But interest is collected from the debtor."
Qi Shan Wei's voice stayed calm. "So it will take my years."
The Court elder smiled again, nasty with relief. "Good. Take his future."
Qi Shan Wei's calm gaze moved to the elder.
"You speak as if I am alone," Shan Wei said.
Then he looked back up at the Bell's writing.
"And you speak as if Time cannot be managed."
The bell rang again.
And the air stamped the next demand like a final judgment.
PAY WITH A NAME… OR LOSE ALL SIX.
The words burned in ancient light.
A name.
Not a thread.
A name.
The kind of payment that does not only hurt.
The kind that rewrites what a person is.
Ling Xueyao's breath stopped.
Feng Qingyue's eyes widened.
Zhen's voice came out flat, but the meaning was sharp.
"Conclusion: Bell is escalating to identity theft."
Drakonix growled from the cocoon, thunderflame shaking like rage.
"Try… take… name… I eat… bell…"
Qi Shan Wei did not flinch.
He did not panic.
He stood in front of all of them, calm and serious, like an emperor facing the sky itself.
His voice was quiet.
But it carried something the Bell did not expect.
Authority.
"No," Shan Wei said.
The bell rang.
The dome shook.
And somewhere deep in the air, the hooks began to form again—this time not around threads.
Around names.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2026
All rights reserved.