The Argent Moon Sect's fifth peak gleamed under the silver light of three moons, their alignment casting an ethereal glow across the jade pavilions and cascading waterfalls. The air thrummed with spiritual energy, a faint hum that seemed to whisper secrets to those who could hear it. Jian Feng stood in a secluded courtyard, his breath steady, his hand resting on the hilt of the Nine Serenities Jade. At sixteen, he was no ordinary disciple. He was Heaven's Chosen Debtor, a title that brought both awe and dread.
Born under the Triune Celestial Convergence—a rare alignment of three celestial bodies—Jian Feng had been marked by the heavens from his first breath. His mother, frail and dying, had been saved by a miraculous herb that bloomed overnight in their barren village. As a child, he stumbled upon ancient scrolls buried in forgotten caves. At thirteen, he broke through to the Core Formation realm, a stage most cultivators toiled decades to reach, condensing his spiritual energy into a radiant Golden Core with effortless grace.
But every miracle came with a price.
Jian Feng could feel it now, a pressure in his soul, like invisible chains coiling around his Golden Core. These were Debt-Bonds, the cosmic ledger of favors owed to the heavens. Each blessing—each herb, scroll, or breakthrough—added another chain, some as thin as spider silk, others heavy as iron. The Nine Serenities Jade, a divine sword that had chosen him after he wandered into a beast-haunted ravine, was the thickest chain of all. Its spirit, a faint figure with eyes like polished jade, stirred in his mind.
"You feel them, don't you?" the spirit whispered, her voice soft as a breeze through ancient pines. "The debts grow heavier."
Jian Feng's jaw tightened. "I didn't ask for this," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the moons.
The spirit's presence lingered, silent but heavy with unspoken truths.
The Argent Moon Sect was a titan among the cultivation powers of the Celestial Gardens, its nine peaks a beacon for those seeking the path to immortality. Cultivation, Jian Feng had learned, was a journey through realms, each marked by stages of mastery over body, spirit, and the Dao itself. The Mortal Realm began with Body Tempering, forging flesh against the elements, followed by Meridian Awakening to channel spiritual energy, Qi Condensation to gather it, and Spirit Sensing to perceive the world's hidden essence. Most disciples lingered in these stages for years, their progress measured in sweat and pain.
Jian Feng had bypassed them in months. By fifteen, he had reached Foundation Establishment, solidifying his spiritual energy into a perfect Dao Foundation. Now, at Core Formation, his Golden Core pulsed with power, marking him as an elite among the sect's Inner Disciples. Beyond lay Soul Resonance, where the core would harmonize with the soul, and Nascent Emergence, where a nascent soul would form, granting near-immortal longevity. Each stage was a milestone, but for Jian Feng, they were gifts—unearned and unwanted.
The sect revered him for it. They called him Heaven's Favored Son, a prodigy destined for greatness. But Jian Feng saw the truth in their eyes: envy, suspicion, and fear. He was a pawn in a game he didn't understand, his every step watched by forces far beyond the mortal realm.
The courtyard was quiet, save for the distant hum of the sect's spirit springs. Jian Feng had come here to meditate, to quiet the unease that gnawed at him. Tomorrow was the Blade Trial, a test where disciples showcased their skills before the sect's elders. He knew what they expected: another display of his unnatural talent, another victory to fuel their whispers.
He didn't want to fight. Not because he doubted his skill—the Nine Serenities Jade made him untouchable in the Mortal Realm—but because every victory felt like a trap. Each time he wielded the sword, each time he called upon his blessed instincts, the chains in his soul tightened.
The spirit of the sword stirred again. "You cannot hide from Heaven's gaze," she said. "The Ledgers of Mandate do not forget."
Jian Feng frowned. "Ledgers of Mandate?"
The spirit's form shimmered in his mind, her jade eyes gleaming. "The heavens are not benevolent. They are accountants, boy. Every blessing is a debt recorded in the cosmic ledger. You are their debtor, and one day, they will collect."
Before he could press her further, the air before him rippled. A paper crane, delicate and glowing with starlight, materialized in the courtyard. It hovered, unfolding to reveal characters etched in shimmering ink:
Seek the Veiled Star Marquis in the Court of Dust and Ashes. Your first debt awaits.
Jian Feng's heart stilled. The crane bore a seal—a swirling glyph of stars and chains, the mark of the Ministry of Karmic Ledgers. He had heard whispers of the celestial bureaucracies, powers that governed the heavens and enforced their rules across the realms. But why would they summon him?
He reached for the crane, but it dissolved into sparks, its message burned into his memory. The spirit of the sword watched in silence, her presence a weight in his mind.
That night, Jian Feng lay awake in his sparse chamber, the Nine Serenities Jade resting against the wall. The moons outside cast long shadows, their light filtering through the lattice window. He traced the memory of the crane's words, each one a thread in a tapestry he couldn't yet see.
The Court of Dust and Ashes. He had heard tales of it—a place between realms, where immortals, spirits, and mortals traded secrets and favors. A neutral ground, they said, but neutral did not mean safe.
And the Veiled Star Marquis? A name that carried weight, though Jian Feng knew nothing of the man—or being—behind it.
He closed his eyes, reaching inward to his Golden Core. It pulsed, radiant and flawless, but now he saw them clearly: the Debt-Bonds, ethereal chains weaving through his core like vines. Some were faint, tied to minor blessings—a healed wound, a technique mastered overnight. Others were heavy, their links pulsing with an ominous light, tied to the sword and the miracles of his birth.
The spirit's words echoed: The heavens are accountants.
Jian Feng's fists clenched. He was no fool. The sect might call him a prodigy, but he was a tool to them, a means to curry favor with higher powers. The elders watched him too closely, their smiles too calculated. And now, a summons from the heavens themselves?
"I am not their pawn," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness.
The Nine Serenities Jade hummed softly, as if in reply. Jian Feng stood, strapping the sword to his back. Tomorrow, he would face the Blade Trial. But after that, he would find a way to the Court of Dust and Ashes.
He stepped into the night, the three moons watching like silent judges. Somewhere, in the vast tapestry of the cosmos, a ledger recorded his every move. And Jian Feng, Heaven's Chosen Debtor, would learn to read it—or break it.
To be continued…
What is the Court of Dust and Ashes? Who is the Veiled Star Marquis, and what debt does Jian Feng owe? Drop a comment and follow Jian Feng's journey through a cosmos bound by chains and secrets!