The air between them rippled.
Ren Zhe stood still, five Grave Shards pulsing beneath his skin. The energy wrapped around him like a cloak of shadows and storms. Across from him hovered the godborn—017—barefoot, emotionless, his silver blood veins glowing beneath pale skin. In his hands, the Heavensplitter blade vibrated, warping space around its edge.
They were only ten paces apart.
But it felt like the weight of worlds separated them.
"State your identity," 017 said, voice layered with echoes—some human, some not.
Ren Zhe said nothing.
The blade twitched.
From the sky, lightning arced.
017 vanished.
A flicker.
Then the strike came.
Ren Zhe stepped aside, but barely.
The blade missed by a hair—yet the stone street exploded beneath him, carving a trench ten feet deep through spirit-forged marble. Dust surged. Alarms rang through the outer city walls. Cultivators turned to look toward the disturbance. Noble houses dimmed their lanterns. Spirit beasts howled in the distance.
Meimei ducked behind a broken arch, eyes wide. "Is that… thing human?"
"No," Ren Zhe said, eyes locked on the boy. "It's worse."
Imperial Observation Tower
From the jade spire at the edge of the sky-plateau, Empress Xiyan observed the duel through a crystal mirror.
Her generals stood at attention, waiting.
Zhuan frowned. "He's… faster than projected."
"He has the Heavensplitter," one of the blood-lords said. "That should be enough to erase any soul-bound entity."
"He is not merely soul-bound," Xiyan said. "He's something far older."
"You still believe he's the true Graveborn?" Zhuan asked, voice cautious.
"He didn't resurrect. He endured. That changes everything."
Back in the Capital
017 flickered again.
This time, he came from above—blade overhead, aura twisted into a cyclone. He struck down like a falling star.
Ren Zhe didn't dodge.
He caught the blow.
Hands wrapped in dark mist clashed with the divine edge.
And for a breathless instant…
The world held its breath.
Then—cracks split the road beneath Ren Zhe's feet, spreading out like a spiderweb. But he didn't fall. Instead, his aura surged. The fifth shard ignited, casting crimson light across his body.
He shoved the boy back, sending 017 skidding across the square.
Ren Zhe's voice was calm. "You're not the only one reborn."
The Blade's Curse
The Heavensplitter pulsed once in 017's hands.
Then again.
But the second pulse wasn't power.
It was resistance.
017 blinked.
"What… is this?"
He felt it in his blood. A sliver of ancient intent buried within the weapon. Not loyalty. Not obedience. But memory.
The blade remembered.
It had killed a god once.
It did not want to do it again.
017 shook. His hands burned. His bones screamed. The voices in his head hissed and roared.
Ren Zhe stepped forward.
He felt it too.
The blade's hesitation.
"Even your weapon doesn't want this."
"I… was made… to end you," 017 said, struggling to raise the sword again.
"No," Ren Zhe replied. "You were made to die."
Meimei's Awakening
Hidden behind the pillar, Meimei's breath grew shallow.
Her hand trembled.
But not with fear.
With heat.
The mark on her palm—one she'd had since birth—burned.
A black petal unfurled.
Then another.
And another.
From her palm, a thornflower sigil bloomed.
She fell to her knees as pain lanced through her skull.
Visions.
Of a throne of corpses.
Of Ren Zhe, surrounded by dead gods.
Of herself, standing beside him—older. Colder. In robes of dusk and flame.
What am I?
She didn't know.
But something inside her answered: You are the Blooming Thorn.
The Godborn Falls
Ren Zhe stopped holding back.
The fifth shard merged with his spinal core, sending arcs of forbidden lightning through his soul matrix. Tattoos that hadn't existed moments ago crawled up his arms, forming scriptures of the old gods—the lost language of Endurian flame.
He moved.
This time he disappeared.
017 barely reacted before Ren Zhe appeared behind him.
One strike.
Not with a weapon—but with an open palm.
It landed in the center of the boy's back.
The air split.
017 crashed through five buildings, landing in a crater of smoking rubble.
His body twitched.
Ren Zhe walked toward him, eyes still cold.
The boy tried to rise.
Ren Zhe stood over him.
"You're not ready."
And then he slammed his foot down on the godborn's chest.
The blade clattered to the ground.
And the godborn stilled.
The Empress Reacts
In the Observation Tower, silence reigned.
Zhuan collapsed to his knees.
The blood-lords whispered in panic.
Xiyan did not flinch.
But her eyes were sharp.
"He held back," she murmured.
Zhuan looked up. "What?"
"Ren Zhe. He didn't kill him."
"Why?"
"Because he's not here to destroy. He's here to reclaim."
The Aftermath
Meimei approached as Ren Zhe stood over the unconscious boy.
She held her hand out.
The thornflower still burned in her palm.
"You knew?"
"I suspected," Ren Zhe said.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because your bloom only begins in blood."
She looked down at the boy.
"What do we do with him?"
"He's a tool. One forged in pain. If I can break the bind, he might remember who he was."
"Do you trust him?"
"I don't trust anyone," Ren Zhe said. "But I know what it means to be used."
He turned his head.
Beyond the crater, people were watching.
Not soldiers.
Not nobles.
Ordinary people.
Street vendors. Beggars. Spirit artisans. Orphans.
They stared at him with fear.
But also something else.
Recognition.
They didn't know his name.
But they felt what he was.
A revenant.
A storm long buried.
And now… returned.
Deeper Shadows
Far from the capital, beneath the God-Burial Sea, an eye opened.
A single, lidless gaze—older than time, wide as a continent.
It saw Ren Zhe.
It remembered him.
The sea rumbled.
And began to rise.