Chapter 74: Echoes Between Worlds
Baihua City was supposed to be beautiful at night.
The city was famous throughout the Central Region for its spiritual flower fields.
Even after sunset, countless flowers continued to bloom beneath the moonlight, releasing faint particles of spiritual energy into the air.
Normally, the streets would remain lively until midnight.
Merchants would call out their prices.
Cultivators would gather in groups.
Caravans would arrive through the eastern gates.
And petals would drift through the streets like colored snow.
Tonight, however, Baihua City was strangely quiet.
Too quiet.
Han Feng noticed it the moment he entered the outer district.
There were fewer people on the streets.
The guards spoke in hushed voices.
Several shops had closed earlier than usual.
Even the spiritual flowers seemed less vibrant.
Han Feng walked beneath a dark cloak, his face hidden by a simple mask.
His aura was suppressed.
His footsteps were deliberately ordinary.
Nobody paid attention to him.
That was exactly what he wanted.
He turned into a narrow alley and continued toward the inn recommended by one of his few remaining contacts.
But halfway there—
He stopped.
A petal floated past his face.
Han Feng watched it.
The petal suddenly froze.
Not because of wind.
Not because of Qi.
It simply stopped in the air.
For a fraction of a second, the world around him became silent.
Then—
The petal moved again.
Han Feng's eyes narrowed.
He looked toward the sky.
Nothing.
He extended his spiritual sense.
A faint distortion passed through the surrounding space.
Almost imperceptible.
But real.
"Again..."
He whispered.
The feeling had appeared several times since he entered the Central Region.
At first, he had assumed it was simply a consequence of the unstable spiritual currents.
Now he wasn't so sure.
The distortion didn't feel like ordinary spatial turbulence.
It felt like something was overlapping the world.
For a brief moment, Han Feng saw something that wasn't there.
A crimson moon.
An endless ocean of black ash.
Broken towers standing upside down in the distance.
Then—
The vision vanished.
Han Feng remained motionless.
His expression became serious.
He hadn't imagined it.
At least, he didn't think he had.
The Tear of the Black Sun had been reacting to these abnormalities more frequently.
But the Tear was still sealed inside his storage space.
This time, he hadn't activated it.
Which meant the phenomenon existed independently of the Tear.
Han Feng slowly continued walking.
As he passed another alley, a faint whisper reached his ears.
Not from a person.
Not from a nearby room.
It seemed to come from everywhere.
"Spirits cry out..."
Han Feng stopped.
The voice continued.
"...for a lost world."
His hand immediately moved toward his storage space.
The jade container containing the Tear of the Black Sun remained sealed.
Han Feng didn't take it out.
He waited.
Nothing happened.
The city returned to normal.
A few distant footsteps echoed through the streets.
Han Feng's eyes became colder.
It's getting stronger.
He remembered the white-robed stranger.
The worlds are not colliding. Not yet.
At the time, Han Feng had thought the statement might have been a warning.
Now he wondered if it had been a measurement.
Perhaps something was approaching a boundary.
Perhaps the boundary itself was weakening.
Or perhaps what he was seeing wasn't another world at all.
An ancient memory.
A sealed realm.
A formation.
A projection.
There were too many possibilities.
And not enough answers.
Han Feng hated that.
The inn was small.
Three floors.
Twenty rooms.
A simple defensive formation covering the walls.
Nothing impressive.
That made it useful.
Han Feng entered without attracting attention.
The innkeeper barely looked up.
"Room?"
"Third floor."
The old man handed him a wooden key.
"Food?"
"No."
"Bath?"
"No."
The old man nodded.
"Then don't disturb the other guests."
Han Feng almost smiled.
A perfect place for someone who didn't want to be noticed.
He entered his room.
Locked the door.
Then checked the walls.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Only after confirming that no obvious formation or spiritual sense was monitoring him did he sit down.
He placed several defensive talismans around the room.
Then opened his storage space.
The jade container appeared in his hand.
Inside floated the Tear of the Black Sun.
The relic looked almost unchanged.
A dark drop suspended in the center of the container.
Yet Han Feng could feel something different.
It was responding to the environment.
Not strongly.
But continuously.
Han Feng stared at it.
"You're sensing it too."
He broke one of the seals.
Darkness spread across the room.
It wasn't ordinary darkness.
It felt deep.
Almost ancient.
The spiritual energy inside the room changed.
Han Feng immediately closed his eyes.
He began circulating his Qi.
The Tear did not merge with his consciousness.
Instead, it acted like a lens.
It separated the spiritual fluctuations around him into different layers.
Normally, spiritual energy felt like a single flowing current.
Now Han Feng could sense countless smaller movements within it.
Some belonged to the surrounding formations.
Some belonged to living creatures.
Some came from distant cultivators.
And some...
didn't belong.
Han Feng's breathing slowed.
He followed one of those foreign fluctuations.
His consciousness descended deeper.
The room disappeared.
The city disappeared.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then—
Three moons appeared.
One silver.
One black.
One red.
Below them stretched an enormous battlefield.
Han Feng stood at its edge.
Thousands of figures fought across a landscape of broken stone.
Some wore ancient robes.
Others wore black armor.
Their eyes glowed with a strange golden light.
Neither side seemed entirely human.
Spiritual techniques tore through the sky.
Mountains collapsed.
Rivers evaporated.
Something enormous moved beneath the ground.
Han Feng couldn't understand what he was seeing.
Yet a strange familiarity passed through him.
At the center of the battlefield stood a throne.
It was enormous.
Its structure appeared to be made from crystal.
But it had been broken.
Only the frame remained.
No one sat upon it.
Then—
The entire battlefield froze.
Every figure turned toward the throne.
Han Feng's heart tightened.
Something was approaching.
Not from the sky.
Not from the ground.
From behind the world itself.
A crack appeared in the darkness.
A single eye looked through.
Han Feng felt an overwhelming pressure.
Then a voice whispered:
"Not yet."
Han Feng's pupils contracted.
The scene shattered.
Han Feng opened his eyes.
He was sitting on the floor.
Sweat covered his forehead.
His breathing was uneven.
The Tear of the Black Sun floated several inches above the jade container.
Han Feng immediately resealed it.
The darkness vanished.
Silence returned.
He remained seated for several minutes.
His mind raced.
The battlefield.
The three moons.
The broken crystal throne.
The golden eyes.
And that eye behind the boundary.
Most importantly—
The voice.
Not yet.
The same meaning.
The same warning.
Han Feng's fingers tightened.
The vision wasn't proof that another world existed.
He refused to jump to that conclusion.
But it was no longer possible to dismiss the phenomenon as ordinary spiritual instability.
Something was being remembered.
Or perhaps—
Something was trying to be seen.
The next morning, Baihua City had become noisy again.
Han Feng left the inn early.
He needed information.
He entered the central market wearing the same plain clothes as before.
Merchants shouted.
Cultivators bargained.
Spiritual flowers floated above several stalls.
For a few minutes, everything looked normal.
Then Han Feng noticed an old farmer sitting beneath a wooden awning.
Unlike the other merchants, he wasn't selling spiritual herbs.
He was selling scrolls.
Old ones.
Yellowed with age.
Han Feng slowed down.
One scroll in particular caught his attention.
It had no title.
Only a strange symbol on the cover.
Three circles.
One inside another.
Han Feng's spiritual sense brushed against it.
A faint resonance appeared.
His eyes narrowed.
"How much?"
The old farmer looked up.
"That one?"
He smiled.
"Five spirit stones."
Han Feng handed him the stones.
The farmer hesitated before giving him the scroll.
"You should be careful with that."
Han Feng looked at him.
"Why?"
The old man's smile disappeared.
"It was left here by a traveler."
"What kind of traveler?"
"An old man."
"From where?"
The farmer shrugged.
"He never said."
Han Feng opened the scroll.
The writing was faded.
But one sentence remained clear.
When the winds blow against time, and the mirror of the sky shatters, three eyes will open, and the world will bleed.
Han Feng's gaze remained fixed on the words.
"Who wrote this?"
The farmer lowered his voice.
"Some say a madman."
"And others?"
"A visionary."
Han Feng rolled the scroll closed.
"Did the traveler say anything else?"
The old farmer looked around.
Then whispered:
"He said the prophecy had already begun."
Han Feng's expression didn't change.
But his mind became more alert.
"Anything else?"
The old farmer shook his head.
"He only said one more thing."
"What?"
"He told me not to sell the scroll to anyone carrying a black urn."
Han Feng's fingers stopped.
For a moment, the entire market seemed to disappear.
The old farmer looked at him strangely.
"Are you alright?"
Han Feng slowly smiled.
"Of course."
He placed the scroll inside his storage space.
Then walked away.
His expression remained calm.
But his thoughts were moving rapidly.
That wasn't a coincidence.
The old farmer might know nothing.
The traveler might have simply been repeating a rumor.
But the connection was too precise.
The Black Urn.
The six points.
The seventh point.
The ancient network.
And now—
Three eyes.
Han Feng looked toward the sky.
The clouds had begun to move unnaturally.
He left Baihua City before noon.
The road toward the Central Region's capital stretched eastward through a vast plain.
According to the map, the journey would take several days.
Han Feng intended to move quickly.
But the world seemed determined to give him reasons to stop.
On the first day, he encountered a mountain whose peak had become completely crystallized.
Not covered in crystal.
Transformed.
The stone itself had become transparent.
Spiritual energy flowed through it like blood through veins.
Han Feng observed it from a distance.
He didn't approach.
The place felt wrong.
The crystal mountain pulsed once.
Han Feng left.
Later that afternoon, he encountered a river.
The water was flowing uphill.
Against gravity.
Against the terrain.
It climbed toward the sky for several hundred meters before disappearing into a cloud of mist.
Several cultivators had gathered nearby.
Nobody knew why it was happening.
One formation master had already tried to investigate.
He hadn't returned.
Han Feng continued on.
Near sunset, he heard a voice.
"Turn back."
Han Feng stopped.
The sound came from the forest.
He slowly looked toward it.
A creature stepped between the trees.
It had three heads.
Its body resembled a large wolf, but its fur was silver and its eyes were completely black.
The three mouths opened simultaneously.
Different voices emerged.
"Turn back."
"Turn back."
"Turn back."
Han Feng's expression became serious.
The creature wasn't attacking.
It was speaking.
More importantly—
Its voices were not synchronized.
One sounded young.
One sounded ancient.
The third sounded like something that had never been human.
Han Feng studied it.
"Why?"
All three heads looked at him.
The middle head spoke.
"Because the road ahead remembers you."
Han Feng's pupils contracted.
"What does that mean?"
The creature tilted its head.
"You have already walked it."
Han Feng's heart tightened.
Before he could ask another question, the creature vanished into the forest.
No spiritual fluctuation.
No movement.
Nothing.
Han Feng remained still.
After several breaths, he continued walking.
But he didn't forget the words.
The road ahead remembers you.
That night, Han Feng stopped beside a ruined stone bridge.
He didn't light a fire.
He sat beneath the bridge and opened the ancient scroll.
The prophecy appeared ordinary at first.
But now that he had seen the mountain, the river, and the creature...
He looked at it differently.
Three eyes.
The red star from the crack.
The eye from the vision.
And something else.
Han Feng thought about the Dark Soul.
The six-point formation.
The Black Urn.
The strange black eye beneath the ancient altar.
His expression darkened.
Maybe the prophecy wasn't describing three beings.
Maybe they were three stages.
Three openings.
Three witnesses.
Or three things that had yet to awaken.
He didn't know.
And he wasn't going to guess.
Han Feng folded the scroll.
The road toward the Central Region capital continued ahead.
He could already see faint lights in the distance.
But before leaving, he looked upward.
The stars were visible.
For a few seconds, everything seemed peaceful.
Then—
One star disappeared.
Han Feng's eyes narrowed.
Another appeared beside it.
Red.
It pulsed once.
Then vanished.
The Celestial Diagram inside his consciousness responded.
Six points illuminated.
The seventh remained dark.
Han Feng slowly stood.
"So you're watching too."
He wasn't sure whether he was speaking to the Diagram...
Or to whatever might be watching from beyond the sky.
He turned toward the road.
He had come to the Central Region seeking resources, information, and a place to cultivate.
Instead, he had found something much larger.
The abnormalities were spreading.
Ancient formations were reacting.
Creatures were changing.
Memories were crossing boundaries.
And something beyond those boundaries had begun to notice him.
Han Feng tightened his cloak.
"I won't back down."
His eyes became cold.
"But I won't rush forward blindly either."
He looked toward the distant lights of the capital.
"If the world is changing..."
He stepped onto the road.
"...then I'll learn its rules before it changes again."
Far above him, hidden behind the stars, a faint red light appeared.
Three times.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then it disappeared.
And somewhere beyond the boundary between worlds, an unseen presence opened its eyes.