The next morning, the palace buzzed with whispers.
Servants murmured about the Blood Moon rising early. Courtiers exchanged uneasy glances. Even the lotus flowers in the imperial ponds seemed slower to bloom — as if nature itself held its breath.
In the midst of it all, Jin Xuan Yue stood still as a statue.
His eyes were fixed on Li Hua again.
She was pouring tea, her motions graceful… too graceful.
Just like her.
He didn't speak as she knelt, but he caught the subtle twitch in her fingers when his gaze lingered too long.
Something cracked in him.
"Come with me."
She looked up sharply. "My Lord?"
"I want to speak to you. Alone."
She hesitated — then rose without a word.
---
They walked through the peach blossom grove, petals falling like soft rain.
He finally stopped at the old stone pavilion. The place where he'd once given Qing Yue a moonlight comb made of starlight.
Now it was haunted with silence.
"Tell me," he said quietly, "why do you avoid me?"
"I don't," she answered.
"You do."
His tone wasn't cold. It was tired. Like a man who'd been chasing ghosts for a thousand years.
"I only serve as I was ordered," she said carefully.
"And yet you walk like a warrior, not a servant."
Her lips parted, startled.
"You wear perfume only the Nine-Tailed Clan ever used. You know the path through the Hall of Records better than the librarians. Your voice…" He stepped closer. "It sounds like her."
Li Hua's hands clenched.
"Are you… her?"
She shook her head. "I am not."
But her voice trembled.
He stared into her eyes — golden, flickering like a memory.
"I want to believe you."
"…Then do," she whispered.
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then he turned away. "You may leave."
She didn't move for several seconds. Then bowed, turned… and fled.
---
Far across the celestial lands, in the Temple of Shadows, Moon Goddess stood before a black pool.
The demon beside her grinned.
"She is wavering."
"She will break," the goddess said coolly. "She's always been ruled by her heart."
"And the War God?"
Moon Goddess narrowed her eyes.
"He still seeks truth… even if it destroys him."
She raised her hand, and in the dark pool, images swirled — of Jin Xuan Yue, of Qing Yue, of an ancient seal beginning to crack.
"Let them remember," she said. "Let the past bleed into the present. And when they do—"
The pool turned crimson.
"—we strike."