The mist rolled in thicker than usual.
Not the soft silver fog that clung to the mountain each morning — this one was heavy. Dense. Unnatural.
It curled through the trees like smoke. Silent. Watching.
Jiang Xuan opened his eyes.
He hadn't slept again.
His body didn't need rest the same way anymore. Not since the incident with the Nightfang Tiger. Not since… the voice.
The wind outside carried whispers. Faint. Too faint to understand.
But he felt it.
Something had changed.
Something was coming.
---
By the time the morning bell rang, the sect was already stirring with unease.
Two disciples were missing.
Both outer sect.
Both last seen near the southern ridge.
No sign of battle. No beast trails. No qi fluctuations. Just… vanished.
The elders said nothing officially.
But the whispers returned, sharper this time:
"Demonic beast?"
"A spy?"
"Could it be… him?"
---
Lin Tao found Jiang Xuan near the practice fields, eyes wide.
"Brother Xuan… people are saying things."
Jiang Xuan kept training. His blade cut through the air — silent, clean, calm.
"About what?"
"You. About the missing disciples."
"I don't know them."
"I know. But—" Lin Tao hesitated. "They say your eyes glowed red. During the duel. Just for a second."
Jiang Xuan froze mid-swing.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Lin Tao stepped back nervously. "Sorry. I didn't mean— I just thought you should know."
Jiang Xuan lowered his blade.
"Thank you."
Then he walked away.
Not fast.
Just far.
---
In the elders' chamber, voices clashed.
"They were weak outer sect boys. Probably ran off."
"No one saw them leave. Their spirit seals still ping inside the mountain range."
"Then they're dead."
"Or worse."
Elder Wen stood at the back, silent.
He already knew the truth.
Or at least part of it.
This wasn't a beast.
It wasn't a deserter.
It was a wound — something festering deep in the heart of the sect.
And Jiang Xuan was either the cause…
Or the key.
---
Yao Xi knelt before the worn altar in her room, eyes closed.
She wasn't praying.
She was remembering.
In the future, the first signs of the Demon God's awakening weren't wars or fire.
They were disappearances.
People close to Jiang Xuan vanished. Some consumed. Some twisted. Some simply… lost.
She had hoped the timeline would shift slowly. That his demon nature wouldn't stir this early.
But it was moving faster.
Much faster.
And it terrified her.
Not because she couldn't stop him.
But because, in her gut, she wasn't sure she wanted to anymore.
---
Jiang Xuan stood at the edge of the southern ridge that evening, eyes scanning the fog-covered trees.
No birds.
No animals.
No sound.
He stepped forward.
Something answered.
A presence.
Faint. Cold. Watching.
His hand dropped to his sword.
But the presence didn't attack.
It whispered.
Not in words. Not in language.
Just feeling.
"Hunger."
"Break."
"Return."
He closed his eyes.
And the mark on his neck pulsed—hot, then ice cold.
The fog around him twisted once.
Then scattered.
Gone.
As if it had never been there.
---
Back at his quarters, Jiang Xuan found a folded note tucked beneath his door.
There were no names. No threats. Just six words.
"The elders are afraid of you."
He stared at it for a long time.
Then, quietly, he burned it with a flick of his fingers.
No technique.
Just intent.
----
That night, the fog returned.
But this time, it didn't roll across the mountain like mist.
It crawled.
Low to the ground. Clinging to walls. Sliding through cracks in stone. Moving like it had purpose.
The disciples in the lower quarters stirred in their sleep, teeth chattering, brows sweating. Some dreamed of shadows. Some of blood.
Jiang Xuan didn't sleep.
He couldn't.
He stood on the rooftop of his quarters, robes fluttering in the windless dark, eyes scanning the endless gray.
It was watching again.
Not the sect.
Something else.
---
Near the abandoned dueling grounds — the one Yao Xi had shown him — a pale light flickered through the trees.
A lantern.
Old. Wooden. Hanging from a crooked bamboo pole that hadn't been there the day before.
Jiang Xuan approached it slowly, blade in hand.
As he stepped into the clearing, the temperature dropped. The light from the lantern didn't warm the air.
It drained it.
Then he saw the figure.
A man — or what used to be one — kneeling in front of the ancient dueling stone.
His robes were sect standard… but blackened with age. Skin gray and tight across his bones, eyes closed, lips moving in silence.
Jiang Xuan stepped closer.
The man didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
Didn't live.
But he spoke.
Without voice.
Without opening his mouth.
"You carry it."
Jiang Xuan froze.
"The mark. The hunger. The ash."
"…Who are you?" he asked aloud.
"Not your enemy."
"…Then what?"
"Your warning."
Jiang Xuan's grip on his blade tightened.
The figure raised a skeletal hand. His eyes opened — completely white.
"The seal has cracked.
The locks are failing.
The thing beneath your skin remembers what it once was."
Jiang Xuan took a step back.
But the fog held him.
"Devour no more.
Feed it not.
Or it will rise before its time."
Then, with a sharp snap of wind, the lantern blew out.
And the figure turned to ash.
---
Yao Xi shot up in bed, sweat pouring down her spine.
Something had changed.
She didn't know how she knew.
But she felt it.
A shift in the world.
Like a thread had snapped too soon.
She threw on her robes, grabbed her sword, and raced toward the outer quarters.
---
Jiang Xuan walked back slowly, the mark on his neck burning like it was freshly carved.
The ash from the dueling ground clung to his boots, to his robes, to his thoughts.
He couldn't explain what he'd seen.
But he understood one thing:
The seal inside him was weakening.
And the more he fought…
The faster it cracked.
---
At the edge of the bamboo path, Yao Xi found him.
Alone. Pale. Covered in dust.
"What happened?" she demanded.
He looked at her, eyes too calm.
"Do you know what this place was before it became a sect?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Before they built the halls. The courtyards. The rules."
"…No."
"Neither did I."
He stepped past her.
But as he walked, he whispered over his shoulder—
"There's something buried here.
And I think it's waking up."
---
Back in the elders' hall, Elder Wen stood alone before a mirror of polished obsidian.
His reflection shifted.
Wavered.
Behind him, the shadow of a woman stepped into view — her robes layered with silver veils, her face hidden.
"You said the seal would last," she said.
"It's breaking faster than expected."
"And the girl?"
"She's close to him now. Watching."
The woman was silent.
Then:
"We may need to choose soon. Between the boy… and the world."
Elder Wen didn't answer.
Because deep in his heart… he wasn't sure who would survive that choice.
----
End of Chapter 7