The morning sky was thick with heavy clouds. Mist still clung to the mountains, but the main hall of the Tianhan Sect was already buzzing with people. Its tall walls echoed every breath too loudly. In the center, the jade stone floor formed a wide circle—where disciples or sect offenders were usually brought to face judgment.
Today, the one standing in the center wasn't just anyone—it was Yanzhi, Lu Ming's disciple, with fresh wounds still clumsily wrapped.
He bowed halfway—not out of fear, but because his breathing hadn't steadied. The energy in his body was in chaos, and he was too aware that one wrong move might let something slip—the fragment resting beneath his breastbone.
At the main seat, Elder Fan sat upright. His face was as hard as carved stone, his gaze sharp and piercing. Beside him, Wei Ran looked more composed, but his smile was thin and dangerous—like someone who already knew how the game would end.
Lu Ming stood behind Yanzhi, his blue robes stirring softly. He said nothing, but the tension in his jaw betrayed all the things he held back.
Wei Ran opened the conversation, his voice soft but clear across the hall.
"The altar path beneath the valley stirred at dawn. Our sentries sensed a spiritual tremor. Some... carried the scent of old demonic auras."
All eyes turned to Yanzhi. He said nothing—no denial, no defense.
Elder Fan leaned forward, his voice low. "You're injured. But not from a normal wound. There's unfamiliar energy within you. Explain."
Yanzhi raised his head. His gaze was steady. "I was attacked."
"By who?"
"I didn't see."
"And what are you hiding in your body?"
"I don't know what you mean."
Lu Ming finally spoke. His voice was calm, but its coldness bit deep. "Yanzhi. At least tell me. Did you enter the altar chamber? Did the fragment... touch you?"
Yanzhi didn't answer. His jaw clenched.
From the corner of the hall, Han Ye stood in silence. No one had questioned him—yet. But he knew more than anyone else. He had seen the shard of the fragment merge into Yanzhi's body. He knew something had entered. And he had chosen to stay silent.
Elder Fan narrowed his eyes. "Han Ye. You found him last night?"
Han Ye nodded. "Yes."
"And?"
Han Ye didn't respond immediately. He glanced briefly at Yanzhi.
"He was close to death. But there were no signs of a fragment," he said flatly. "If there were, I would've seen it."
Yanzhi stole a breath. Lu Ming looked at Han Ye long and hard, trying to read something between the words.
Elder Fan leaned back. "Then... we'll confirm it. In two days, you'll be brought to the main altar. The fragment will speak for itself."
Wei Ran chuckled. "If there's a fragment... no way to hide it from the ancestral altar."
Yanzhi remained silent. But within him, the Spirit hissed—sharp, frantic.
Don't go near that altar. If they try to pull me out, I... will fight, Yanzhi. Even with your body.
And in the shadow of the hall, Han Ye's grip on his sword sheath tightened.
---
The evening wind brought damp mountain air, slipping through the cracks of the Inner Pavilion's window. The fading red light of sunset crept into the small room where Yanzhi was once again confined. This time, deeper. Colder. Farther from any voice.
His hand was still wrapped in gauze, his chest rising and falling unevenly. The wounds hadn't healed, but that wasn't the real pain. It was the pressure within. The voice... that never truly slept.
"You heard them, didn't you? Two days. They'll try to pull me out, like a rotten thorn from a festering wound."
Yanzhi let out a harsh breath, turning his face toward the wall.
"You talk every day, never stop. What do you think I am? A wooden puppet for you to move at will?"
His hand clenched around his knee. His breath came short, shoulders trembling. But his eyes stayed sharp—unyielding.
"I've known your intent from the start. You've been waiting. For my body to weaken, for my mind to crack. Then you'd try to take everything. Do you think I'm that stupid?"
"Not stupid... but weak. Once they start pulling me out, your body won't hold. You'll shatter from the inside. Bones will break. Blood will burst. None of them can save you."
Yanzhi fell quiet for a moment. He lowered his head and shut his eyes. Then, softly, he laughed—a bitter sound more like a scoff than humor.
"I know I'm weak. I know my time is short... But I'm still sane. And I know this—you have to leave my body."
His eyes sharpened. He gripped his knee tightly, fighting the tremble in his fingers.
"Leave, yes... But not their way. Not by force. I refuse to die just because they want to tear you out like ripping a thorn from flesh. This body is still mine. And if I have to cast you out, it'll be on my terms. Not theirs, not anyone else's."
The voice laughed—a deep sound that didn't echo in the ears, but rang sharp inside his chest. Heavy. Like iron grinding against stone.
"You're stubborn... But you forget one thing."
"This body is yours, yes. But our souls are bound. If I want, I could crush your consciousness in an instant... and take everything."
"If they keep pushing me out, I'll leave on my terms. I'll rise—and one by one, I'll destroy them. Your sect. Your master. I'll wipe them all from this earth."
Heat rose in Yanzhi's chest—not anger, but the Spirit's pressure swelling within, pressing against the walls of his mind. It felt like unseen hands clamping down on the back of his skull.
"You can talk all you want about doing things your way—but time's running out. If you won't act, then I will!"
But Yanzhi lifted his head. His breath was still heavy, but his eyes hadn't lost their edge.
"I won't let you out like that," he said coldly. "If you go on a rampage—if they find out about you—I'm done for. Even if you escape, you'll be sealed again. Or destroyed. I know that too."
He gritted his teeth.
"That's why I need to find another way. A way to get you out... without killing me. And without turning the whole sect against you."
Sweat dampened his temple, but his body didn't move.
"I don't need their help. I just need time. So don't you dare try to take control."
There was no reply. But the whisper lingered at the edge of his thoughts, waiting... lurking—like a beast holding itself back in the dark.
Outside the pavilion, Han Ye stood silently. He hadn't been ordered to stand guard—but he came anyway. The torch in his hand flickered slightly. His face was dark, eyes locked on the closed wooden door.
He couldn't shake one memory.
When Yanzhi was unconscious the night before, his body had glowed black for a moment. Like the aura of an ancient demon—but denser. Older. More... alive.
"What else are you hiding from me, Yanzhi..." Han Ye murmured.
Footsteps approached behind him. Lu Ming emerged from the dark corridor, his robe brushing softly across the stone floor. He looked at Han Ye, then at the pavilion door.
"I know you saw something," he said directly. His voice calm, but giving no room to avoid the question.
Han Ye didn't reply.
Lu Ming continued, "If there's something inside my disciple... I need to know before the altar devours him."
Han Ye exhaled slowly. His eyes never left the door.
"Not an ordinary fragment..." he said quietly.
Lu Ming's gaze sharpened.
"Explain."
Han Ye bowed his head slightly, then spoke softly, as if afraid his words might stir something not yet ready to wake.
"That fragment... it wasn't like the others. When I found it, it didn't resist Yanzhi's body. It didn't tear through him. Instead... it merged. Like a piece returning home."
Lu Ming's eyes narrowed. "Returning?"
Han Ye nodded slowly. "As if Yanzhi's body was made to hold it. Their energies didn't clash... they fused too cleanly. And if we try to pull it out... I don't think his body will survive."
For a moment, there was silence. The torch in Han Ye's hand flickered, its flame bowing to the night breeze.
Lu Ming finally drew a long breath and turned toward the wooden door.
"Then you understand why I can't let them take Yanzhi to the main altar."
Han Ye didn't respond immediately, but his gaze shifted. "You're going to hide him from the elders?"
"Not hide. I need time," Lu Ming said flatly. "If the fragment has truly become part of him, forcing it out will destroy them both. But if there's a way to separate it without force... only Yanzhi can do it. From within."
Han Ye stared at Lu Ming for a long moment, then nodded. No protest.
Lu Ming folded his hands behind his back. "I'll find that way. Watch over him. Don't let anyone in. Not even the elders. If it comes to it... I'll face them myself."
Han Ye turned sharply. "You'd go against the sect?"
"If I must." Lu Ming's face didn't change. "Yanzhi is my disciple. I won't let him be sacrificed just because
the elders fear what they don't understand."
Behind that wooden door, two powers waited for each other. And time kept moving—toward the day of reckoning.