The evening sky was heavy with overcast clouds. Though no rain had fallen, the wind carried a chill that stirred unease in the heart. Lăng Tiêu sat in silent meditation beside the stone stream, until a sudden jolt struck his chest.
"Something's wrong… Bé An!"
Without a second thought, his figure blurred into a shadow, streaking down the mountain like wind. A strange sensation pulsed in his mind—no words, no voice, yet it was as if someone were calling to him, soul to soul.
In Vân Lộ village, Bé An had been playing with other children when a refined-looking man approached, smiling kindly. He pressed a honey cake into An's hand and said gently:
"Little one, your master sent me to take you to the mountain temple for the offering rites."
An tilted his head, innocent eyes blinking. The man's words made sense. And the cake smelled so sweet…
The boy followed.
No one knew that the man was a disciple of Âm Tàng Giáo, sent to capture Bé An as a sacrifice for the Dark Earth Remnants ritual.
When Lăng Tiêu arrived, there was only a faint trail of footprints—and a child's talisman, crushed into the dirt.
His gaze darkened. Then, a sharp pain pierced his forehead—an image flashed through his mind: Bé An, bound, frightened, in a dim chamber.
No one had spoken. No one had told him.
But he saw it.
It was as if a thread now connected their hearts—when one suffered, the other felt it.
Could this be… Soul Resonance?
Lăng Tiêu clenched his fists. His aura surged wildly around him, no longer restrained.
Atop an abandoned peak, Bé An was bound within a ritual array. The cultist chanted, letting his blood drip onto a stone altar.
Suddenly, a protective charm on An's chest flared—his body glowed with a soft green light. The cultist recoiled.
"Impossible… The brat has a soul-guarding seal?"
Before he could react, a sword qi tore through the stone gates—Lăng Tiêu stepped in, his expression cold as frost.
"You touched my disciple. That's already more than you deserve."
The cultist sneered:
"Lăng Tiêu? You think you alone can oppose the might of Âm Tàng Giáo? Hand over the boy—"
He didn't finish. Lăng Tiêu's sword flashed. The first strike didn't kill—it severed the man's right arm.
"I am his master. You're not worthy of speaking."
The cultist screamed, tried to flee. But Lăng Tiêu never gave second chances.
Blood spattered like rain. Yet his eyes remained calm—only the fury within roared like a storm.
Cradling Bé An in his arms, the boy looked up, eyes rimmed with tears.
"Master… I knew you'd come…"
Lăng Tiêu froze for a moment. In that instant, two souls—one battle-hardened, the other innocent—resonated. No words were spoken. No glances exchanged. Only a silent, absolute trust.
"I said it once: anyone who harms my disciple... will pay."