The sun filtered dimly through the cracked windows of the Crimson Feather Sect's once-grand hall, its golden rays falling on dust-covered stone and wounded warriors. The great war council had gathered but not in the way it used to. Where once there had been pride and power, now there were only tired faces, bloodied robes, and cautious eyes.
Xiao Lian stood at the head of the long stone table, her presence unwavering despite the visible exhaustion in her body. Her robe was singed, her arm bound in a rough bandage, but her eyes, those sharp, intelligent eyes burned brighter than ever. She looked over the gathered elders and remaining disciples, their numbers far fewer than even a week ago.
Ji Ren stood silently beside her, arms crossed, bruised but solid as ever. His gaze swept over the room, not missing the flickers of doubt, resentment, or fear in the eyes of the council.
Xiao Lian didn't waste time.
"We can't keep bleeding out like this," she said, her voice firm but calm. "If we wait for the Heavenly Court to strike again, we will be erased slowly, painfully, and completely."
The room stirred, murmurs rising like uneasy winds. Elder Fan, one of the oldest members of the sect and a man who had fought beside Xiao Lian's past incarnation, leaned forward. "And what do you suggest we do, Sect Leader? We've barely survived the last attack."
"I suggest we stop surviving," she replied, "and start fighting back."
The room fell silent.
"We strike first," she continued. "Not recklessly but with strategy. We hit one of the Heavenly Court's smaller strongholds. Not only to disrupt them, but to send a message: we are not prey."
Gasps echoed. A few elders shook their heads. One slammed a fist against the stone table.
"You speak of madness," Elder Mo growled. His beard was streaked with soot and his voice carried the gravel of years. "This isn't just another sect we're dealing with. This is the Heavenly Court. Their reach spans continents. Their armies are limitless. To provoke them further is suicide."
"And surrendering isn't?" Xiao Lian asked, her tone sharper now. "You think bowing your head will earn their mercy? They're not interested in peace. They want history erased. They want me erased."
SIS's voice flickered in her ear, soft but insistent: Analysis of past celestial warfare supports Xiao Lian's hypothesis. Submission will not guarantee survival. Resistance, though low in probability of success, offers strategic advantage through unpredictability.
"I've seen their tactics," Xiao Lian pressed. "They don't stop with one victory. They cleanse. They rewrite history. They destroy names, bloodlines, memory."
Ji Ren took a step forward, his tone quieter but no less intense. "I've seen what they've done to my own clan. Those who resist are slaughtered. Those who kneel… don't last long either. The only difference is how you die."
"But what of our disciples?" another elder protested. "What of our children? If we go to war, how many of them will survive it?"
Xiao Lian's heart twisted at the thought. Faces of young students she had once trained with some now gone, others recovering from wounds they would never fully heal from...flickered through her mind. She didn't want them to fight. She didn't want them to die. But the Heavenly Court had left them no other path.
"I don't want to sacrifice them," she said, her voice softening for the first time. "But I won't feed them to wolves, either. We can teach them. Prepare them. Make their deaths mean something, if it comes to that."
"And what if they live?" Ji Ren added, his voice cutting through the silence like steel. "What if fighting now means they see a future that isn't built on fear?"
The tension in the room crackled like a storm.
Elder Mo stood, trembling with a mix of rage and despair. "I will not risk everything on a girl's vengeance. We are weakened. Divided. You would burn what's left of us for the chance to strike back."
"It's not vengeance," Xiao Lian replied, eyes locking with his. "It's justice. And if we don't choose to stand for it now, when will we?"
The old man glared, then looked away. He wasn't convinced but he wasn't the only voice in the room.
Elder Sheng, younger and once a close friend of Xiao Lian's past incarnation, leaned forward. "I remember the old sect," he said. "I remember what we stood for before the Court came for us. She may be young, but her mind… it's sharper than any I've seen. If anyone can outwit the stars, it's her."
More murmurs. Fewer protests this time.
Ji Ren caught Xiao Lian's eye. Her face was unreadable, but he could see the flicker of weight behind it all, the burden of command, the price of vision. When he spoke next, it wasn't to the elders, but to her.
"Xiao Lian," he said gently. "You've carried us farther than any of us could have imagined. But if you push too hard, if you forget who you're fighting for… you might win the war, but lose yourself."
She blinked. For a second, the walls came down.
"I know," she whispered.
SIS's voice chimed again: Emotional integrity detected. Unusual elevation in hormone levels. Suggest rest and psychological recalibration.
Xiao Lian almost smiled. "No rest now, SIS."
She turned back to the council. "I'm not demanding you all agree. I'm asking for a vote. We decide—together."
The elders looked to one another. It was clear the room was still fractured, but something had shifted. Her words had planted seeds. Doubt in fear. Faith in rebellion.
Elder Sheng raised his hand. "I support the plan."
A few more followed.
Elder Mo didn't raise his hand, but he didn't leave, either.
When the count was done, Xiao Lian nodded. "Then it's decided. We go on the offensive."
As the council adjourned, the elders filed out in silence, some thoughtful, some weary. Only Ji Ren remained behind.
"You were too hard on yourself," he said softly.
"I had to be," she replied. "We can't afford half-measures anymore."
Ji Ren hesitated. Then, as she began to turn away, he said quietly, "You know I'm still with you. No matter how hard this gets."
Xiao Lian paused.
"I know," she said. "And that's what scares me."
Their eyes met for just a moment too long—long enough for feelings unspoken to swell in the silence.
Then she walked away.
Outside the war council chamber, the winds of change blew across the mountain. Crimson Peak stood tall, but the storm was coming. The Heavenly Court would strike again.
But this time, the Crimson Feather Sect would not kneel.
They would fly.