The moment Shadow pulled the Saintess from the Elders' Court, the entire hall fell into a breathless silence. Even the wind beyond the jade pillars dared not stir.
She didn't resist. She didn't speak. She simply followed.
Only when the gates closed behind them did the Sect Master slowly rise, his sleeve swiping through the air as he dismissed the court.
One by one, the elders dispersed, most with furrowed brows and muttered curses, the silence of unease hanging behind them like fog.
All except one.
Elder Han remained.
He continued sipping from his cup of spiritual tea as if he were sitting at a casual luncheon rather than the aftermath of a political storm.
The Sect Master turned to him, voice low. "Elder Han... with respect, what was that? Offering the Celestial Thunder Sect's former Saintess to an outer sect disciple turned rogue cultivator? Even among sect politics, that's a dangerous move. Elder Yan is long dead. Why go this far?"
Han's lips curved faintly, but his eyes remained still. Cold.
"You misunderstand. It wasn't my decision."
The Sect Master's eyes narrowed. "Then whose?"
Han set his teacup down with a soft clink. "A core elder. One whose status dwarfs both of ours. Orders passed down directly from the Cloud Court Pavilion."
The Sect Master's expression shifted. That wasn't just higher authority-that was untouchable authority. Celestial Thunder Sect's highest ruling council.
Han leaned forward, voice like silk pulled taut.
"A dangerous storm brews, Sect Master Fen. One your little mountain sect cannot withstand. You were granted a gift today-a scapegoat and a distraction. Use it well."
"A scapegoat?"
"That girl," Han said, voice sharpening. "Her name is Han Yuelin. Once hailed as the Saintess, the destined heir to our sect. At the age of seventeen, she reached the seventh level of the Muscle and Skin Forging Realm. She slaughtered three rogue cultivators before she turned fifteen. Took their heads. And left a poem written in their blood."
The Sect Master stiffened.
"She was brilliant," Han went on. "But brilliance unchecked becomes madness. She volunteered for the most dangerous missions. Vanished into bandit strongholds alone. Returned alone. Always alone. Not a single prisoner. Not a single survivor."
"She was... unstable?"
"She was a butcher in saint's clothing," Han said coldly. "Even her peers feared her. Her masters could not control her. One elder tried to force her to undergo soul-purification. He lost an eye for the attempt."
The Sect Master swallowed hard.
Han's voice dropped into a conspiratorial murmur.
"So we sent her to the Baptism. The ancestral ritual that unlocks destiny. A path to divine inheritance. But instead of ascending, her cultivation collapsed. Her dantian broke and reformed-reversed. She fell to the seventh level of the Foundation Realm, and the seers said she would never reach adulthood. Condemned by heaven itself."
The Sect Master's face paled. "She's cursed."
Han nodded. "Indeed. A death mark. Two months left, at best. But removing her... would cause questions. So instead, we buried her in an unwanted marriage-out of our sect, out of our hands."
He stood, brushing down his sleeves.
"You gain rare pills, formation scrolls, and my personal token. She gains obscurity. And Shadow... well, who better to absorb the weight of a dying legacy than a mad boy walking a dead man's path?"
The Sect Master stared at him. "You would throw both into the pit... for the convenience of your sect?"
Han smiled thinly. "I didn't throw them. I watched them fall. There's a difference."
He paused at the steps.
"And between us, Sect Master Fen... when she finally breaks again... let it be on someone else's mountain."
Shadow didn't slow as he strode across the inner court. The weight of what had happened threatened to press down on him-but his resolve held firm.
The Jade Wind Pavilion loomed ahead. He flung open the gate to his residence, entering with Han Yuelin silently behind him.
The door shut hard behind them.
Silence.
Shadow let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. He turned-
She was there.
Standing still. Straight. Unmoving half a head taller than Shadow.
The air around her was cold. Sharp. Pressed in on the skin like a blade left in snow.
Her violet skirt rippled softly, revealing long legs shaped with a dancer's grace and a warrior's strength. Her thunder-silk robe clung to her frame like starlight molded into form. Her veil barely concealed the wicked curve of her lips. But beneath it-beneath that stillness-he saw something ancient.
Something terrible.
She did not move like a woman.
She moved like a predator remembering how to stalk.
Without a word, she walked to the tea table. Sat. Poured herself a cup of tea with silent elegance.
Shadow stared at her.
And then he said what no one else in either sect had ever dared to say to her face:
"You're a monster."
The words echoed like thunder.
For a moment, all was still.
Then she looked up.
Her expression did not change.
She didn't grow angry. She didn't glare.
She smiled.
A slow, beautiful smile that curved beneath her veil like a lover's promise-and a killer's blade.
But the smile never reached her eyes.
Her eyes remained hollow.
Empty.
"...I know," she said softly.
End of Chapter 43