CHAPTER 111: THE DUEL BENEATH THE MOON

The moon hung low in the sky, swollen and pale like an ancient eye watching from beyond the clouds.

Mist crawled along the forest floor, clinging to roots and rocks like memories that refused to die. It was here, at the edge of the Spirit Willow Grove, that fate arranged for three hearts to unravel.

Lin Fan stood under the willow’s arching branches, breath fogging in the night air. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from desperation.

Across from him, illuminated by the moonlight and the gentle bioluminescence of spirit petals, stood Mu Lanyue.

Her hair danced on the wind, silver strands glowing like starlight. She was dressed in an elegant azure robe embroidered with phoenix feathers, her back straight, her gaze distant.

And beside her... stood Hei Long.

He wore simple black robes, the edge of a crimson inner layer peeking from beneath. A single silver pin held his hair in a loose knot. His face was unreadable, calm and collected, like the eye of a storm that had already swallowed everything in its path.

"You said you loved me," Lin Fan whispered, stepping forward. His voice cracked. "You—Lanyue, you said... you smiled for me. You saved that smile."

Mu Lanyue looked at him, her expression serene.

"I did," she said quietly. "But it was a smile meant for the past."

Lin Fan’s heart crumpled.

Hei Long stepped forward slightly, offering a courteous nod.

"She chose," he said simply.

A blade of silence pierced the moment. Lin Fan’s hands clenched.

"She didn’t get a chance!" he snapped. "You—slithered in like a thief! You waited—like you always do—and when someone finally opened their heart to me—"

"I listened," Hei Long said. "When she needed someone. When she cried after your training accidents. When you ran off chasing some ritual. I was there. I didn’t steal anything. You lost her."

"Lies," Lin Fan hissed. "You always lie. You pretend to be the hero now, don’t you? The stable one. The composed cultivator. You’ve manipulated everyone, even the heavens!"

Mu Lanyue lowered her eyes. "Lin Fan..."

He stepped forward again.

"No. No, you don’t get to say my name like that! Don’t look at me like I’m some poor fool you pity!"

His voice rose with each word. Birds in the grove scattered from their perches, wings beating in panic. The moon grew clearer overhead as the mist slowly began to part.

Lin Fan took another step—and then another—and then he dropped to one knee.

"...Fight me," he said.

Hei Long’s brow furrowed. "What?"

"You heard me." Lin Fan’s hands were glowing now, spiritual energy crackling like unstable lightning around him. "Right here. Right now. Duel beneath the moon. Winner gets her."

"No!" Mu Lanyue said suddenly. "I’m not some trophy—"

"You said you wanted clarity, Lanyue," Lin Fan interrupted. "You said you wanted to be seen, to be fought for. Well, here I am! Bleeding for it!"

Hei Long’s expression darkened.

"...Fine," he said. "But this isn’t for her. This is for the part of you that can’t let go."

They stepped back, taking their stances. The grove held its breath.

Lin Fan struck first—rushing forward with a flurry of elemental wind techniques meant to blind and confuse.

Hei Long dodged effortlessly, his movements refined, his aura coiling like a snake ready to strike.

"You always go too far," Hei Long said, weaving through the attacks.

"And you never go far enough!" Lin Fan roared. "You just wait, watching from the shadows like a parasite until someone’s weak enough to want you!"

Hei Long’s fist struck like a hammer. Lin Fan flew back, crashing through two willow branches before landing in a shallow pool. He coughed, wiping blood from his mouth.

"You say you’re stable. Stoic. But deep down, you’re just... empty. You collect women like trophies because you’re hollow."

Hei Long’s face didn’t change. But his next blow was harder.

They clashed again, the air humming with spiritual energy. Lin Fan activated a forbidden technique—something he’d barely mastered in desperation. Illusions began to swirl. Ten Lin Fans. Then twenty. Then fifty.

Hei Long stood calm at the center.

Mu Lanyue’s eyes widened. "This technique... it’s a manifestation of longing."

Lin Fan’s illusions weren’t just mirrors. Each of them whispered a different regret. A different version of the life he could have lived with her. One with children. One where they built a sect together. One where he never met Hei Long.

Hei Long closed his eyes.

Then struck through the heart of every illusion.

Lin Fan dropped to one knee again, panting. His chest heaved.

"You don’t understand," he whispered. "She was the only one who ever made me feel..."

"...Enough," Hei Long said, standing over him. "But love isn’t just feeling. It’s choice. And she chose."

Mu Lanyue stepped forward.

"It’s over, Lin Fan," she said softly. "Let go."

He looked up at her.

"Then... then smile for me. Just once more."

She didn’t.

Hei Long turned without another word. Mu Lanyue followed. But she paused halfway, glancing back—not with pity, but with a final kindness.

That glance burned Lin Fan more than any blow.

He didn’t chase them.

He didn’t scream.

He simply sat beneath the moon, the willow trees weeping around him, the cold beginning to settle into his bones.

Later, the Spirit Court would declare the duel an unofficial affair, not bound by sect law. But Lin Fan didn’t care about rules anymore.

He’d lost her.

And worse... he knew he never really had her.

The rain came down in slow, heavy curtains, each droplet carrying a silence that refused to break.

Thunder grumbled low in the heavens like a reluctant confession, and the skies bled grey over the Azure Dream City.

Lin Fan stood at the edge of the terrace atop the Mistveil Pavilion, his clothes soaked through, plastered to his skin. But he didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even seem to breathe.

Below him, stepping slowly across the cobbled path through the drizzle, was her—Mu Lanyue.

The girl in the rain.

Her white robes shimmered faintly under the rainfall, translucent at the edges, like something pulled from a dream too delicate to hold.

She didn’t carry an umbrella. She never did. She had always said the rain felt like a lullaby from the heavens, soothing the wounds people never admitted they had.

He remembered her voice clearly.

"Even the gods weep sometimes, Lin Fan. Don’t be ashamed if you need to cry too."

That memory stabbed deep now.

Because she wasn’t looking up at him.

Because she didn’t even glance toward the pavilion.

Because at her side, with his hands tucked casually behind his back and his expression unreadable... was Hei Long.

One Month Ago — When Lin Fan First Saw Her

Mu Lanyue had arrived at the Verdant Star Sect in silence.

She hadn’t made an entrance. She hadn’t needed to. Her beauty moved like water over silk—graceful, flowing, quiet.

She was the last disciple of the Whispering Moon Immortal, a reclusive woman once famed across the continent for her mastery over dreamwalking and soul melodies.

Lanyue bore the same quiet aura, the same subtle smile that hinted at understanding too deep for this world.

Lin Fan fell instantly.

Not just for her beauty, but for the way she paused to watch leaves fall, for how she hummed lullabies to injured spirit beasts, for the way her eyes softened when others spoke—even if they were lying.

She looked at him once.

Just once.

And he thought he saw a kindness he could drown in.

So he followed her. Not creepily, no. Just... with reverence. With adoration. With trembling hope that maybe—just maybe—she might see in him what he tried so hard to become.

Worthy.

Present — Rain Falls Like Secrets

Hei Long’s footsteps were slow, unhurried. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t hold her hand. But they walked in rhythm, as if they had done this many times before. As if this wasn’t a stroll. As if this was a ritual.

Lin Fan gripped the wooden railing so tightly his knuckles turned bone white.

He had confessed.

A week ago, under the Spiritweaver Tree. With trembling words and flowers picked from the Dawn Hills. He’d told her everything. That he watched her train. That he admired her from afar. That he believed in fate.

And she had smiled.

Not mockingly.

Not cruelly.

Just... softly. A sad smile.

"Lin Fan... I think you’re sweet. But I... I’m walking a different path. I’m sorry."

He remembered how he had nodded, how he had tried to look noble and understanding. How he had smiled.

But he hadn’t meant it.

Because he had hope. Hope that maybe she was just scared. Or uncertain. Or that maybe she needed time.

And now she was walking in the rain. With Hei Long.

The boy who always stood behind others, who smiled too easily, who helped too readily.

The liar.

The Duel Beneath the Moon

The sect’s attention turned in whispers, as rumors began to flow like the river after a storm.

That Hei Long and Mu Lanyue were training together.

That Hei Long had been entrusted by the Whispering Moon Immortal to "help Lanyue acclimate."

That Hei Long was now being taught soul melodies. Privately.

That Lanyue had smiled at him in the gardens.

And then—the spar.

They had dueled.

Under the full moon.

It wasn’t an official challenge. Just a practice match. But the way she moved against him... the way they danced rather than fought... it wasn’t practice.

It was something else.

And when she landed lightly on his chest after he stumbled, the way she laughed—quiet, breathless, vulnerable—shattered something in Lin Fan.

He had watched from behind a pillar. Like a coward. Like a ghost.

And when he saw her lean down...

When her lips brushed Hei Long’s cheek...

He had turned and walked away.

The Spiral Begins

The next week was a blur.

Lin Fan became obsessed.

He started asking about her schedule.

He tried "bumping into" her on the path to the spirit library.

He left notes. Dozens of them. Each more poetic than the last.

She didn’t respond.

She smiled politely.

She thanked him.

But her eyes were always distant now. Looking behind him.

Looking past him.

Looking... toward Hei Long.

Back to the Rain

They disappeared into the side courtyard, where a spirit blossom tree bloomed unnaturally in the cold. The rain made its petals glisten like blood-kissed pearls.

Lin Fan stayed where he was.

Wet.

Alone.

And then, like cruel irony, the clouds parted slightly. The sun peeked through—just a single ray.

And in that beam of light, as if fate itself wished to twist the dagger deeper, Lanyue stepped out again.

She stood there, bathed in sunlight, droplets falling from her hair like diamonds.

And beside her—Hei Long.

He turned toward her.

Said something Lin Fan couldn’t hear.

And then—without hesitation—she leaned in and kissed him.

Not on the cheek.

Not a brush.

But deep.

Real.

Loving.

And Lin Fan’s soul collapsed.

Later That Night — Operation Soul Patch

He sat in his courtyard, a bottle of cheap spirit wine in hand, surrounded by scrolls. Ancient texts. Forbidden techniques. Alchemy diagrams.

He had one idea.

A method to rebind affection. To rewrite fate threads. To erase connections and insert new ones.

All theoretical.

All dangerous.

All illegal.

He didn’t care.

Because he knew this was wrong. Knew Lanyue had been tricked. That Hei Long was manipulating her. That the kiss meant nothing.

That it had to mean nothing.

Because if it meant something...

Then Lin Fan didn’t want to live in this world anymore.

But It Wasn’t Over

He saw them again the next day.

Laughing in the herbal garden.

Her hand brushing his shoulder.

Hei Long giving her a pendant—carved in the shape of a crescent moon.

And she wore it.

Wore it like it was sacred.

Lin Fan clutched his chest.

Because inside, something was cracking.

And he couldn’t tell if it was heartbreak—

—or rage.