Lin Han's pupils shrank as an unfamiliar yet eerily familiar heat surged through his veins. It was not merely a sensation—it was a presence, an echo of something ancient slumbering deep within him.
He collapsed onto the damp stone floor, fingers digging into the cracks as if anchoring himself to reality. His forehead pressed against his arm, sweat mixing with the cold air as he struggled to suppress the force clawing its way through his soul.
—"You were never meant to resist."
A voice—ethereal, commanding, and impossibly old—resonated within his mind, weaving itself into his very thoughts.
He lifted his head.
The golden serpent eyes carved into the altar were narrowing, watching him, waiting.
To accept? Or to reject?
The scent of decay mixed with exotic spices thickened the air. An unseen force wrapped around Lin Han like a cocoon, tearing him away from the present and casting him into a space of shifting shadows.
He wasn't alone.
The figure stood before him—himself—an exact reflection, save for the glimmer of golden light swirling in its gaze.
"What are you afraid of?"
Lin Han's breath came in short gasps. His brows furrowed. "This isn't real... This can't be real..."
"Blood does not lie. Fate was carved into your bones long before you understood it."
The reflection extended its hand, palm facing upward. Golden serpentine markings flickered to life across the skin, sending a ripple of familiarity coursing through Lin Han's very being.
And then—
Memories, fragmented like shattered glass, erupted from the void.
—A throne bathed in the glow of a thousand lanterns.
—A temple of gold, towering above kneeling worshippers.
—His own reflection, with those same gilded serpent eyes, gazing down upon them.
Echoing in his ears was an ancient decree: "Bloodline is destiny. A contract cannot be undone."
Lin Han staggered backward, his heartbeat hammering like war drums in his chest.
Was this an illusion? Or was it something buried—something deliberately forgotten?
The low chants circling the altar swelled into a crescendo, a hypnotic wave pulling him deeper into the abyss.
Sweat trickled down Lin Han's temple. His fingers tingled as his soul teetered on the edge of surrender, as if unseen hands were molding him into something else—something predetermined.
But there were only two paths left.
To embrace the power and become what "it" expected him to be?
Or to reject it, to sever himself from the bloodline and all that came with it?
The flames flickered, shadows shifting like sentient beings. The air grew still, as though waiting for his answer.
His body trembled, on the verge of collapse—but his will remained unbroken.
He had to decide. Now.
Lin Han's fingertips trembled as he applied slight pressure, feeling an invisible force coursing through his veins. His right eye pulsed violently, an unbearable pressure swelling within, as if threatening to rupture. He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the overwhelming sensation, but deep within his soul, something long-sealed was being pried open.
—"You have already seen the truth."
The air thickened. All surrounding sounds faded into silence, leaving only the whisper that came from within his own bloodline.
He collapsed to his knees, fingers digging into the cracks between the stone slabs. Blood seeped from his nails, but within the crimson hue, faint traces of gold shimmered.
—Gold?
His pupils contracted. He recalled the vision from earlier—within the golden temple, an imposing figure gazed down upon the world. A figure whose presence… felt eerily familiar.
No.
It couldn't be him.
A distant bell tolled, its deep vibrations echoing with an unsettling rhythm, as though heralding the awakening of something ancient.
Lin Han gasped for breath, lifting his gaze toward the altar. The ancient stone effigy, which had remained motionless for centuries, quivered ever so slightly.
An illusion?
Or had it sensed his transformation?
A violent pull erupted from his chest, like unseen claws trying to tear his soul from his body. His consciousness blurred, time stretching infinitely in that single moment.
—If he remained here, if he did not make a choice, he would no longer be himself.
His bloodline called to him. The wheels of fate had begun to turn.
Would he accept it, or resist?
Suddenly, a familiar voice pierced the suffocating tension—
"Lin Han! Wake up!"
A streak of silver light slashed through the encroaching shadows. Su Xueqing's figure emerged from the darkness, a burning talisman clutched in her hand. With precise force, she pressed it against his forehead!
In that instant, his world shattered once more.
Lin Han's eyes snapped open, his breath ragged, as if he had just surfaced from drowning in an abyss. The talisman on his forehead disintegrated into ashes, dissolving into the night like it had never existed.
Su Xueqing stood before him, her face pale, the crimson mark between her brows more striking than ever. Her right hand trembled slightly, faint traces of spiritual energy flickering at her fingertips—evidence of a battle against something unspeakable.
"You were almost consumed," she said, her voice low yet laced with undeniable gravity.
Lin Han's mind was still reeling from the visions, fragmented images swirling chaotically as the boundaries between reality and illusion blurred. He struggled to stand, only to find his legs weighed down, as if bound by invisible chains.
"What… was that?" he forced out, fear lingering in the depths of his gaze.
Su Xueqing looked at him, her expression unreadable. After a pause, she finally said, "It has no name. At least, not one mortals can utter."
She hesitated briefly before adding, "Or perhaps… you have glimpsed your true fate."
At that moment, the distant temple bells tolled, deep and resonant, as though warning of something beyond mortal comprehension. From within the dense ancient woods behind Jile Temple, a golden light faintly shimmered, illuminating a sigil in the void.
A sharp pain flared in Lin Han's right eye. He instinctively pressed his fingers against the corner of his eye, attempting to suppress the foreign force clawing at his consciousness. Yet, his soul seemed to have already been ensnared—his vision fractured.
A voice, ancient and commanding, echoed from the depths of time:
"All who step beyond this threshold must bear the weight of karma."
Lin Han's heartbeat quickened.
"Xueqing… I think I saw a door."
Su Xueqing's expression subtly shifted. She closed her eyes briefly, as if contemplating something profound. When she spoke again, her voice was slow and measured:
"This temple was built as a seal. If you have seen the door, it means your soul has already been chosen."
"Chosen?!" Lin Han's pupils constricted, a foreboding sense creeping over him.
"Yes." Her voice was both solemn and unwavering. "There is no turning back for you now."
Suddenly, a violent gust of wind surged between them, sweeping up fallen leaves in a spiraling vortex. Lin Han felt his body grow light, as if he were moments away from being carried away by an unseen force. Instinctively, he grasped Su Xueqing's wrist. To his surprise, she did not pull away. Instead, she gazed at him with an expression too complex to decipher.
"If you truly saw that door… then you must make a choice," she murmured, her voice nearly swallowed by the wind. Though soft, her words carried an undeniable weight—an unspoken warning, tinged with sorrow.
Lin Han's grip tightened for a brief moment, but he remained silent.
In the distance, the temple bells finally ceased.
The night deepened, consuming all traces of light.