After Scar was imprisoned, Rover asked Jinhsi what had been whispered. She hesitated. It was about Jué, she admitted—something too sensitive to share without confirmation. But it had shaken her.
She explained Jué's role—not just a prophet, but Jinzhou's silent compass. Without her, Jinhsi was navigating blind.
Still, Rover offered a quiet compliment. Jinhsi smiled briefly—the weight of her station unsoftened by the gesture, but steadied by it.
Jinhsi then shared that Jué had left a message for Rover before vanishing: "To the Awakened One: When raindrops fall upstream, go to the Norfall Barrens. Find General Jiyan of the Midnight Rangers."
She explained that General Jiyan was currently combating a major Tacet Discord outbreak in the Norfall Barrens, the frontline against the resurrecting Threnodian.
Though the area was dangerous, it seemed destined that Rover would journey there—but not until the foretold sign occurred.
Rover prepared to leave as he turned. But before he could, Jinhsi revealed one more truth. Upon Rover's awakening, a mysterious group known as the Black Shores had contacted her.
Cloaked in secrecy, they monitored global Lament patterns, yet revealed little of themselves. They had shown interest in Rover—but unlike Fractsidus, they did not seek to possess him.
She handed him a token bearing their insignia—a Black Bloom—and suggested him to look for it. They would find him again.
As she spoke, a vision overcame Rover. It was the same as in the Gorge of Spirits—but now clearer. He saw himself bearing that same bloom.
But soon, Jinhsi's voice brought him back to the present as he discussed his vision. As she listened, Jinhsi began to wonder—perhaps the Black Shores held part of the answer.
With that, Rover was set to meet with the Black Shores, while Jinhsi promised to seek out Jué and return with the truth.
Rover then stepped out of the Grand Library, his path now burdened with prophecy, secrecy, and growing revelations about his identity.
As he stepped out, his hands instinctively reached for his terminal. Searching through his contacts for 'Lian,' he mused quietly, "Maybe I should call her."
Back in the Grand Library, Magistrate Jinhsi informed Sanhua that she would be taking a temporary leave from her duties in Jinzhou. She entrusted Sanhua with managing her responsibilities during her absence.
When Sanhua asked whether she should continue protecting Rover, Jinhsi replied that both she and Changli would be away, and that Sanhua's role would mainly involve paperwork rather than field protection. Sanhua expressed concern for Rover, reminding Jinhsi of the recent ambush he had faced.
But Jinhsi reassured her that Rover was capable—that she and Rover could be trusted to handle any threats on their own. Sensing her distress, Sanhua assured her of her unwavering loyalty before taking her leave.
Moments later, Jinhsi received a mysterious phone call from an unknown interlocutor—possibly Changli. They discussed Scar's recent interrogation and the meeting with Rover.
Changli suggested that Scar's true intent had not been to confess or explain, but to deliver a message—and that Rover was the only one patient enough to decipher the puzzles Scar had laid out.
Their conversation turned to Jué's prophecy and the pivotal conflict that awaited between Jinhsi and Jué—a confrontation that would shape the future of Jinzhou.
Jinhsi admitted she had suspected as much from earlier conversations and Jué's cryptic message.
Jué's last known presence had been near Mt. Firmament, a place steeped in history as the original home of Jinzhou's first people and the site where Jué first manifested.
Changli warned Jinhsi to be cautious, suggesting Jué's disappearance might be a trap set by their enemies. But Jinhsi remained resolute in her duty as Magistrate, appointed by Jué itself.
She insisted that Scar's words would not sway her loyalty or judgment, and that she must fulfill her role in the unfolding crisis.
As the conversation drew to a close, Changli—referred to as "Teacher" by Jinhsi—granted Jinhsi permission to act and offered herself as a "pawn" in a larger game.
Left alone, Jinhsi reflected on the delicate balance of power. She wondered whether she was truly a player—or merely a pawn. But whatever the truth, she resolved to do what she must.
Meanwhile, somewhere near a quiet shore, Changli glanced down at her terminal. She noticed Lian's name among her contacts and recalled the words Lian had told her: "It's a shame that our friendship is built not on compassion, but on cold exchange."
Her fingers curled around the device as she mused softly to herself, "I should call her."
***
Far from the turmoil unraveling across the world, the quiet town of Hongzhen lay in peaceful slumber beneath twilight's gentle hush. Life here moved in its steady, unshaken rhythm—unperturbed, even in Jué's absence.
The residents, cradled by habit and unaware of the storm gathering beyond their borders, dreamed soundly.
They had no inkling of how narrowly the jaws of peril had closed around them, nor that their survival now hinged on a wandering mercenary—bound by a commission offered by Jué themself.
"Hmm..."
A soft hum echoed through a modest hut, the quiet rhythm of deep sleep.
"Hmm..."
Hanya lay curled against Lian's lap, breathing slow and steady. His eyes, usually distant and composed, lingered on her face with a tenderness not often permitted.
Fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, yet beneath the gentle touch stirred a flicker of worry—a shadow of unease not easily dispelled.
The time to undo the first seal was drawing near.
Lian exhaled softly, the sigh swallowed by the night. His gaze fell on Hanya, burdened by the unspoken question: would he have to risk her safety too?
As one who embodied Impermanence, it was not in Lian's nature to cling to life or death. He was meant to exist beyond such fragile ties, beyond the fleeting bonds of time.
And yet... compassion. That deep, persistent trait clung to him like a thorn beneath the flesh of divinity. From it, something far more dangerous had begun to grow.
"Love."
Hanya was no mere Echo. She was his creation—one of the Humanoid TDs, shaped by his own hand. In her, he saw not just a project or a duty, but someone like his child.
And like any parent, he bore the silent weight of her protection. It was kinship—not of blood, but of essence. A sacred bond forged through shared existence.
His gaze drifted toward the jagged silhouette of Loong's Peak, its crown bathed in moonlight's silver hush. It was there he had accepted the commission—at Jué's personal behest.
He had not expected the path to twist so sharply since their disappearance. The fated heroes had yet to arrive. The tides of fate had shifted in silence, the cost of what was to come hanging unspoken—like a question poised to fall.
A faint flicker crossed Lian's expression, the curve of his mouth tightening with distaste as memory surfaced.
"O kindred soul of Ragunna, one beseecheth thee—lend thine aid." Jué's words echoed, wrapped in ceremonial grandeur.
Lian, unmoved by such exalted airs, had only blinked, replying flatly, "Do you also have tinsels wrapped around your tongue? Speak normally."
Turning away with casual disdain, he added, "I'm leaving if this turns into a Shakespearean recital."
Jué stood silent—stunned, perhaps even flabbergasted. For one so ancient and revered, such plainness was rare.
But Jué knew what Lian was. The ender, the agent of change, the Threnodian of Impermanence. Not merely a human, nor just a mercenary, but a force whispered of by the Imperator themselves.
And so, swallowing their pride and their poetry, Jué relented. After all, the request was simple. "Very well," Jué sighed, the divine lilt fading from its voice. "I shall speak plainly now."
It told Lian of a vision—one that had come to it unbidden and clear. A prophecy. In it, Jué saw a future where it was abducted, stripped of dignity and freedom by the Fractsidus.
"Puhahaha!"
Lian burst into uncontrollable laughter.
He doubled over, slapping the ground until a hollow thud echoed through the Loong's peak. Tears pricked his eyes. "You—!" he gasped between laughs, pointing at Jué. "You? Defeated by humans? You must be kidding."
Jué did not interrupt him. It knew better. To laugh in the face of a Sentinel's fear—that was a language of strength. Elsewise, who else would dare laugh at a god confessing its doom?
Still laughing, Lian shook his head. "Both you and that Pegasus—you two are Sentinels. Divine beings, but tripping over pebbles. Honestly, Jué, tell me a better joke. I'm not buying it. Not from one who claims to see the future."
Jué's gaze narrowed. "There exists a greater threat, Threnodian. The Fractsidus are quite capable."
Lian stilled, laughter fading into a lopsided, shadowed smile. He met Jué's gaze with that familiar glint of mystery—as if staring not at a Loong, but through it.
"Threnodian, huh? Oi, Loong—tell me," he said coolly, "shouldn't I be supporting Fractsidus, if I'm truly but only a Threnodian?"
Jué hesitated.
A Threnodian, by nature, was the undoer of order, the harbinger of collapse. Not mankind's protector—but its end.
Yet here stood Lian, calm, unflinching. Impermanence incarnate... yet, he was also borne of quality of compassion.
"Mercenary," Jué said at last, tone shifting. "State your terms. Hold the mountain until the heroes arrive. Name your price."
Lian tilted his head. "And can you pay it?"
"For my people," Jué declared, pride unwavering, "I will."
A strange smile flickered across Lian's lips. He murmured something low and rhythmic—in a tongue old as light. Jué blinked, then flushed, red blooming beneath celestial scales.
"You—! You dare—"
Lian's smile widened. "What? Can't do it?"
"That's forbidden!" Jué shouted, half shock, half fury. "Who asks a Loong for their inverted scale?"
"I can't even see it then?" Lian feigned innocence.
"Never!" Jué roared, voice trembling with restrained fury. "Choose something else!"
"Alright then..." Lian raised a finger, pointing at Jué. "Give me twenty six of your horns—the Sentinel Daggers."
Silence fell like a blade. Even the wind seemed to still.
"Do you mean to rob me?" Jué snarled, fury and disbelief mingling.
Lian's smile deepened—the kind that unsettles kings and confounds gods. "Then offer me something of equal value," he said coolly.
Jué's eyes glinted like storm-touched jade. "Trust."
Lian's gaze hardened, cutting through Jué's answer like a blade through mist.
"And how," he asked slowly, "is trust supposed to be equivalent to what I've asked?"
Jué did not blink.
"Because, to a Loong," it said solemnly, "to entrust our fate to another is to lay bare our inverted scale—the one thing we are sworn to protect above all."
"I offer you loyalty," Jué continued. "...My utmost trust."
Lian rubbed his chin, detached, as though empires had crumbled and gods knelt before him. Then, calm but razor-edged, he spoke: "Chuck in a few of your scales—ten should do. In return, I'll ensure not a single hair on Mt. Firmament is harmed."
Jué stiffened. Scales—especially from a Loong—were no mere trinkets. They were essence, legacy, vulnerability made physical. But the offer on the table was clear: protection for sacrifice. Divine insurance at a mortal cost.
"Very well," Jué said at last, clipped but resolute. "Then I shall devise the plan and approach. There are heroes I have in mind—perhaps they will be our salvation."
Lian nodded. Not a bad bargain. As mercenary deals went, he'd had worse. At least this one came with something tangible.
And, more importantly, it was interesting.
"Interesting my ass." Lian rubbed his temples, wondering what he could do. He did not want harm to come to Hanya—yet the contract with Jué bound him still.
As if the world itself had caught wind of his discontent, Lian's Terminal let out a soft chime.
He glanced at the screen—Rover.
A brow lifted. 'Rover?' Could be one of those aimless calls—casual, meandering, no particular aim. Lian hovered a finger over the reject icon, already halfway to dismissing it, when a low hum echoed through the room.
"Hmm…"
Lian looked down. Hanya remained curled in his lap, her breath slow, undisturbed.
'Hm… maybe…' A flicker of mischief passed through his thoughts, light and unspoken.
Without hesitation, he let his tone shift—just slightly—smoothing the edges of his voice, tuning it closer to the lilt he used in his feminine form. Calm. Warm. Disarming.
He answered the call.
"Hello, Lian!" Rover's voice crackled through—mechanical, yet bright, like a spark carefully hidden beneath a composed surface.
"Hey, Rover," Lian replied, tone relaxed, almost amused.
Words passed between them, slipping from one subject to another. The call, casual at first, began to soften at the edges.
They weren't rushing. There was an ease between their words now—a shared quiet, unspoken but understood, where the usual walls sagged and let in something gentler.
And elsewhere—wherever the other end of the signal touched—Rover sat with his gaze unfocused, fingers idly twirling a lock of his ponytail. A slight, unconscious smile had begun to form on his lips. Nothing overt. But... odd for a man.
"Hehe," Rover giggled—soft, restrained.
"—!!?"
Lian caught on. The rhythm of Rover's breath had shifted—subtly, but perceptibly.
A pause where none should be, a flicker of uncertainty in his cadence. Barely there, but to someone like Lian—tuned to tone, energy, the tremors beneath the spoken word—it was noticeable.
'Wait a damn minute...' His eyes narrowed faintly, a crease forming between his brows. Something in Rover's behavior was... off. Not his occasional awkward. Something softer.
If he didn't know better, he'd say he had a crush. But that wasn't all.
There was something in the way Rover expressed himself—rather, in the way he spoke that betrayed movement. That soft giggle. The way his voice curved around certain syllables. Feminine—not exaggerated, not put on—but natural. Reflexive even.
Lian didn't assume. But a question began to take root.
'Interesting,' he mused, lips curling into the ghost of a smile as his gaze drifted back to Hanya, still dozing soundly in his lap. 'Maybe it's time for her first mission.'
He said nothing aloud, but the decision was already sealed. He could chase the truth himself… but it was more elegant to let it slip free on its own. Besides, Hanya had always been better at drawing people's true nature out.
Then, without warning, Lian spoke—his voice as calm as ever. "Is there something you want from me?"
Rover abruptly stopped twirling his hair. "Can I ask you something?"
"What is it?" Lian responded.
Rover hesitated for a moment before asking, "You don't trust me, do you?"
Lian blinked. Then a slow, amused curl touched his lips. 'Impressive,' he thought. There was something genuine in that question—an edge of perceptiveness he hadn't expected.
"It seems you've caught on," he said, almost admiringly. Then, without pretense: "You are right—I don't truly trust you."
The words landed sharp. Rover felt the sting, bitter but not unjustified. Still, he didn't flinch. "I want to hire you again," he said quietly.
"I don't trust you." Lian's response came flat and unchanging.
Undeterred, Rover pressed on. "Then… how do we forge trust?"
Lian let out a thoughtful hum—long and theatrical. From his lap, Hanya, still half-asleep, echoed a soft, drowsy "hmm."
Rover's eyes narrowed just slightly at the second voice. 'Was he with someone?' The hum had been faint, but enough to stir his curiosity.
Then Lian's voice came again, crisp and oddly cheerful. "Perfect."
'Perfect?!' Rover nearly winced. 'What the hell does that mean?'
Then came the real surprise.
"Rover," Lian said calmly, "can you look after Hanya for me?"
"Eh—what?" Rover stammered, caught completely off guard.
"I'm about to be... occupied," Lian said, voice steady yet laced with a gravity previously absent. "I'm heading somewhere far more dangerous than any frontline."
He let the weight of those words linger. "I need someone I can risk trusting. Someone who can keep Hanya safe... while I step into something I might not return from."
Rover hesitated. "What kind of place?"
"Sorry," Lian said, brushing it off. "Can't say. Contractual obligations."
Then he added, his tone measured and deliberate: "If you take care of her and return her to me safely… I'll give you not only my trust—but a one-time favor."
Rover paused, thoughtful. 'Strange,' he mused. Something about the way Lian phrased it—it felt like bait. A gilded rat trap, carefully placed. But… there was urgency, too. The concern in his voice didn't feel like a performance.
After a moment, Rover responded, "Okay."
Lian smiled at the answer, a quiet expression of approval as he moved to end the call. "Alright. Send me your coordinates—I'll have her sent to you."
After the call ended, a rapid series of beeps echoed from Lian's terminal—Beep… Beep…Beep… Beep…Beep… Beep…
Lian glanced down at the Terminal again. A flood of missed calls flashed on the screen. And at the top—a message from Changli, marked urgent.
Changli: "Why are you not answering ( ,,⩌'︿'⩌,,)?"
Lian: "∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) ?"
To be continued...
***
A/N: Sorry about summarization of Act Clashing Blades, despite its importance, it nothing but mostly yap with very very important details, so I decided to only summarize what happened. Thanks for understanding! I will try to avoid summarization moving on.
Also, are you guys entertained, or would prefer short drama? If you liked it, drop an absolute cinema.