The city of Qīngluò was quieter at night, yet the silence was deceptive. Lanterns flickered along the narrow streets, their warm glow painting long shadows across the stone. Xuán Yèmíng moved through the alleys like smoke, unseen, untouched by suspicion. The Black Oath folded around him, shielding his presence, guiding him toward the one thread that had drawn his attention since the morning.
She waited in the shadows.
Lián Suòyīn.
He had learned her name through whispers carried on the wind, spoken carefully by servants who did not realize they were naming their own destruction. She was the High Priestess of the Lotus Profaned Sect, a sect known for indulgence, corruption, and the precise cultivation of desire as power. Few outside her sect dared speak her name aloud; fewer still survived to do so.
Xuán Yèmíng observed her first from a distance. She was seated on a carved stone balcony overlooking the central courtyard of the Lotus Profaned temple. Her posture was relaxed, yet every line of her body radiated authority. The moonlight traced her silhouette, a perfect balance of elegance and danger. Her robes, embroidered in shades of black and violet, hinted at ritualistic significance. Subtle charms hung from her sleeves—enchantments, oaths, and bindings, all visible only to someone who could perceive the weave of vows. Xuán Yèmíng could see them, and they drew him in.
He approached silently, each step measured. The Black Oath vibrated faintly beneath his skin, signaling opportunity. The threads around Lián Suòyīn were taut—multiple oaths intertwining, some deliberate, some forced. She had been waiting, consciously or not, for someone capable of challenging that tension. Someone who could reshape the balance.
When he reached her balcony, she spoke first.
"You've been watching," she said, her voice soft but commanding.
Xuán Yèmíng inclined his head. "Careful observation is necessary in a city that pretends to sleep."
A faint smile curved her lips. "And yet you are no ordinary observer. You are… different."
He allowed the silence to linger. It was not arrogance—it was calculation. Every reaction mattered, every subtle movement communicated more than words. Lián Suòyīn's eyes, dark and sharp, measured him, peeling back the layers of deception he had carefully constructed.
"You carry something unusual," she continued. "Power, yes, but also… intention. Purpose. I can sense it. And it is not aligned with your surroundings."
Xuán Yèmíng's gaze did not waver. "I am aligned only with what serves me."
That response, simple and unadorned, caused the faintest flicker of interest in her expression. She had been accustomed to men who either crumbled under her scrutiny or fawned over her authority. This one neither feared nor revered her. He was still standing. Unbroken. Calculating. Alive.
Lián Suòyīn rose gracefully and extended her hand. "Then perhaps we may negotiate an arrangement."
Xuán Yèmíng studied her. The moment was not casual. It was deliberate. He could feel the oaths around her tighten slightly, responding to the gravity of their meeting. She was not offering friendship. She was offering opportunity.
"Speak," he said.
Her smile deepened, just enough to be unsettling. "I am the High Priestess of the Lotus Profaned Sect. My oaths bind my disciples and protect my interests. Yet even I recognize potential when it approaches without allegiance, without fear. I will offer you a chance—a pact."
Xuán Yèmíng raised an eyebrow. "A pact? Explain."
Lián Suòyīn moved closer, her presence now tangible, charged with subtle energy that made the air around them shimmer faintly. "We are both instruments," she said softly. "Instruments of chaos, of power. But even instruments require a conductor. I can grant knowledge, protection, and influence. In exchange… I require commitment. A bond. Not of affection. Not of loyalty in the traditional sense. But of mutual recognition. Of shared power."
Xuán Yèmíng considered this carefully.
The Black Oath whispered faintly beneath his consciousness, advising patience. Every interaction was an opportunity. Every bond a tool.
"You speak as though you understand control," he said. "Yet all your power is anchored in oaths you cannot fully command. You know this."
She did not blink. "I do. And I am testing whether you understand the consequences of accepting. Power always demands payment, Xuán Yèmíng. Do you?"
Her words were not a question. They were a challenge.
"I do," he replied calmly.
For the first time, Lián Suòyīn allowed her full attention to settle on him. Slowly, deliberately, she produced a small ritual dagger, its blade blackened and etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly. "Then let us begin."
Xuán Yèmíng watched as she traced symbols into the stone balcony. Each motion, each flourish, twisted the oaths around them, binding them in a lattice of obligation and consequence. She chanted softly, words in a language older than the dynasties, older than the sects themselves. He could feel the words latching onto his consciousness, probing his intent, testing his will.
When the final symbol was drawn, Lián Suòyīn looked directly into his eyes. "Place your hand here."
He obeyed, resting his palm atop hers. The energy between them flared immediately, not violently, but with awareness. Threads of vow, of influence, of desire, intertwined, creating a lattice that could not be undone casually. He felt her power merge briefly with his, testing the boundaries of the Black Oath, seeking the gaps in his control.
"You will learn," she whispered. "The world bends differently for those who hold such power. Not all can be controlled. Not all obey. But together, we may shape the inevitable."
Xuán Yèmíng did not respond. He felt, instead. The oaths, the potential, the consequences. And he made his decision.
The lattice stabilized. Her power no longer probed aggressively—it accepted him as an equal in that moment, recognizing the shared potential of their pact.
"You understand," she said finally, "that this is not… affection. Not intimacy in the mortal sense. This is a binding of purpose. You will protect me as much as I will enhance your influence. We are allies only in the terms we define."
Xuán Yèmíng nodded. "I understand."
A faint smile curved her lips. "Good. Then let this be the first of many connections. The world outside this city is fragile. It bends to the strongest, the cleverest, and the most patient. Together, we shall see how far it can twist before it breaks."
He left her balcony that night, the Black Oath vibrating faintly beneath his skin. He could feel the threads of the Lotus Profaned Sect now responding to him subtly, imperceptibly, as if they had been quietly reassigned. A single nod, a whisper, a shadow could now bend their actions without immediate detection.
Xuán Yèmíng walked through the quiet streets with a renewed sense of purpose. The first true connection had been made. The first piece of his future harem, as it would become, had been secured—not through coercion, not through force, but through recognition of shared ambition and understanding of consequence.
Above, the moon shone down, fractured slightly at the edges. Ancient seals in distant capitals shifted in response to the ritual that had just concluded. The world's foundations trembled faintly, a warning.
Somewhere, in the depths of the dynasties and sects, those who had sworn oaths that should have remained unbroken began to feel pressure. Their allegiances shifted. Their loyalties faltered. And Xuán Yèmíng knew: this was only the beginning.
The night ended as it had begun—quiet, deceptive, full of latent threat. But for the first time since his family had been destroyed, Xuán Yèmíng felt… not empty. Not hollow.
He felt readiness.
And in the shadows, the Black Oath whispered, approving.