Raven

Enamored with Nuo opera since childhood, he understood all too well: once a performer dons a different skin, they become someone else entirely. Zhong Kui quells demons; the wild fox beguiles men. Once masked upon the stage, a man becomes a role, and may no longer sing the secrets of his own heart. Through countless performances, he grasped the truth behind the mask early on. He lacked Halcyon's chivalrous spirit and martial skill, nor did he possess Zhang Wanshi's innate brilliance. His true talent lay in wearing the very face Mohist Hill needed most: soothing the masses with gentle words while calculating every risk and gain, all to shield the sect. Since the former Grandmaster's passing and his own master's sudden death, strife had never ceased within or beyond the mountain gates. From the moment he ascended as Grandmaster, he donned a mask of black iron, the face of absolute reliability, and never removed it again. Now, deep within the Evershift Labyrinth, memories of their first meeting surfaced once more. He had already sensed the hostility behind him while cutting through the vines, yet when he turned, he found her holding out a dagger. After saving the bird, she slipped back into the wilds without a word. He watched her small silhouette disappear, and for the first time in his life, he could not predict how the scene would end. Later, he came to understand: she simply lived as her heart led her, laughing when she felt like laughing, cursing when she felt like cursing. Only in the time they spent together was he ever simply himself. True hearts are rare in this world, yet she gave hers freely to everyone. She had no idea how treacherous people could be, nor that Haven could never hold all the world within its arms. She had no idea how dangerous it was to trust so openly. And yet, though their paths had long since parted ways, she saw the bloodstained handkerchief he had "accidentally" let slip, and was the one to propose their union. Today, for the first time, he donned his mask before her. It would be the final performance of his life. Treachery had taken root within the sect; the Qiongqi Artificers had risen again. He had no strength left for more maneuvering, but he refused to hand the future of the Mohists to someone who would win by reckless extremes. He had weighed every gain and loss, and what came next was the last plan he could leave her. The mask hit the ground with a clear, bell-like ring. At last, there was nothing left to calculate. In the blur of it all, he saw only the bird they had set free together, cutting across the sky. Let everything move forward. Fly, little bird. Fly.