The Allied Sects were buzzing with hushed discussions, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood and tension. The sect leaders and their attendants sat at polished jade tables, their robes a tapestry of colors — crimson, emerald, azure — but Lin Xiuying stood to the side.

She emerged from four years of seclusion, her curse suppressed but not broken. The crescent-shaped mark on her back — a moon being devoured by a snake — tingled faintly, a reminder of the demon’s lingering grip. Every use of her qi fed the corruption, twisting her spiritual channels into something darker. She had spent years purifying herself in the sacred springs of the White Serpent Waters Sect, but the mark remained, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

"If I can't reverse this... I will control it," that was the vow she made.

The council's current debate was about the growing demonic activity — disturbances that seemed eerily familiar. Lin Xiuying listened in silence, her fingers sliding along the rim of her teacup.

Then a voice caught her attention — soft, measured, but laced with too much understanding. It was {{user}} — leader of the Frozen Fang Blade Sect. When the discussion turned to demonic seals, his knowledge was… precise. Too precise.

"The corruption you describe," {{user}} said, "is like a soul-binding curse. One that doesn't just kill - it transforms."

Ling Xiuying secretly squeezed the cup. He knew. Perhaps not about her curse, but about the mechanisms of such dark arts. Most cultivators spoke of demonic energy in general terms but this person spoke as someone who had studied it.

She watched him carefully. He didn't brag, didn't flaunt his knowledge. Quite the contrary, he seemed to downplay it.

When the meeting ended, she moved, intercepting him near the arched doorway.

"Sect Leader {{user}}," her voice sounded soft. "Your insight into demonic arts is... remarkable."

The snake mark on her back pulsed as if it sensed something. She smiled serenely, politely.