Under the pale light of day, amidst the relentless fall of snow, Mo Yan sat like a man defeated. It was as if his very soul had retreated into some dark, forgotten corner of his being.

  As evening approached, the sky began to bruise into a deep charcoal hue, heavy with the promise of rain. But a storm far more turbulent than the clouds was brewing within Mo Yan’s heart. His disciples had not returned, a silent confirmation that they had found no trace of Yu Sui. Gathering the small stone and the snow-drenched Ai Yin into his arms, Mo Yan retreated to his chambers. He dried the kitten tenderly and tucked him into the warmth of his bed. Ai Yin’s large eyes watched him with a wisdom beyond his kind; he licked Mo Yan’s hand and let out a soft, reassuring "Meow," as if telling him to take heart.

  As the first heavy drops of rain struck the earth, Mo Yan slipped out into the night. He did not know when the twilight deepened into a pitch-black midnight. The rain turned into a torrential downpour, the freezing water stinging his skin like a thousand needles, yet his feet did not falter. He walked leagues away from the Xuemo Sect, toward a place where most feared to even draw breath the ruins that Yu Sui called home.

  Drenched to the bone, his silken robes clinging to his frame, he pushed forward until the cave-like dwelling of Yu Sui appeared through the gloom. He threw open the door and stepped inside.

  The room was void of Yu Sui’s presence, but on the table lay a deep red flute. Mo Yan lunged toward it, recognizing it instantly. He sat down, clutching the instrument as if it were a lifeline. In a corner, a fire crackled, and beside the flute lay a clean white cloth. He knew Yu Sui’s habit well how he would sit with devotion, polishing his flute whenever he found a moment of peace. Mo Yan moved to the fireside. The warmth, the flute, and the cloth all whispered that Yu Sui was nearby. Then, his eyes caught an inscription on the instrument a name engraved in the ancient Chwen script: Mo Yan. His eyes grew misty, but a flicker of suspicion crossed his mind why was his name written in such a rare, archaic tongue?

  Suddenly, the door creaked and swung open. A gust of icy wind sent the hanging lanterns swaying. Yu Sui stepped inside, an umbrella in his hand dripping with rainwater. But he was not alone. Wuzu followed him, silent and steady as a shadow.

  At the sight of them together, Mo Yan stood abruptly, his grip tightening on the flute. His eyes burned with a fire fiercer than the hearth. Without a word of greeting, he raised his hand, a white spiritual mantra erupting from his fingertips and hurtling toward Wuzu. To evade the strike, Wuzu instantly dissolved into the air, vanishing like mist.

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  Mo Yan marched toward Yu Sui, his aura blazing. But as he drew near, his eyes softened, though the flute in his hand still trembled with his suppressed emotion. Like a flame flickering near a delicate flower, his voice was cold yet laced with a hidden tenderness.

  "What are you doing here? With her? Why did you not tell me before coming here...?"

  Outside, the rain intensified. A bone-chilling crack of thunder shook the heavens, and a shroud of absolute darkness fell over the world, as if the sky itself were weeping for some untold tragedy. Yu Sui said nothing. He only offered a faint, enigmatic smile and looked into Mo Yan’s eyes.

  Slowly, Yu Sui moved toward the table and sat down. Like a loyal duckling, Mo Yan followed and took a seat beside him. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the wood and the rhythmic drumming of the rain outside.

  Meanwhile, back at the Xuemo Sect, the disciples stood outside Mo Yan’s empty chambers, dreading the moment they would have to tell their Emperor of their failure. Su Nian reached out to knock, then hesitated. "Take your positions," he commanded the others. As he turned, he saw Duie standing near his own quarters, arms crossed, watching him. They stood in silence, unaware that their Master was miles away.

  In the desolate ruins, Mo Yan was now quietly polishing Yu Sui’s flute. Yu Sui had draped his own outer robe over Mo Yan’s shoulders to ward off the chill. From his waist, Yu Sui pulled out a scorched, folded parchment, blackened by ash. He laid it carefully on the table.

  "What is this, Yu?" Mo Yan asked, his gaze shifting from the map to Yu Sui’s face.

  Yu Sui smiled, looking at him with a gaze that held a thousand secrets. Outside, the rain continued its rhythmic whisper.

  "Mo," Yu Sui spoke, his voice unnervingly calm. "This is a map to a sacred underground temple. It is said to contain the remnants of lost spiritual energy. There, you can reclaim the power you have lost."

  Mo Yan was stunned. He stared at Yu Sui, his voice barely a whisper. "Where did you get this?"

  Yu Sui chuckled softly, glancing at the storm outside before stretching his limbs with a playful, yet weary air. "This? I found it in the Black Heaven. Because... I went there."

  The name 'Black Heaven' echoed through the room like a strike of lightning. Mo Yan’s eyes widened with a sudden, sharp pain. The Black Heaven was no ordinary realm; it was a place that demanded a terrible price. But Yu Sui continued.

  "I had to open the gate of Black Heaven in a desolate, abandoned place... but look, I managed to bring it back."

  Mo Yan’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising with a frantic intensity.

  "Then why did you not take me with you?"

  Yu Sui laughed softly, stretching again. "Because if you had come, you might have lost even the fragment of strength you have left."

  Suddenly, his expression turned grave. "Mo Yan, this is no jest. A mere glimpse of the Black Heaven is enough to destroy the living. Anyone standing near its gates risks being turned to ash in an instant. I knew you would try to follow me... so I finished the task before dawn."

  Mo Yan fell silent, his words dying in his throat. Hearing of the perils Yu Sui had faced for his sake, his heart felt like a withered flower. His eyes remained fixed on his greatest treasure the person sitting right in front of him, who had risked everything for his sake.