Rain fell on the Fallen Star Sect.
Thin and silver, more mist than storm, but it brought with it a strange hush. A heaviness. As if the mountain itself was listening.
Jiang Xuan stood at the edge of the training cliffs, letting the water soak into his robe. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, though there was no enemy nearby.
Not yet.
Behind him, the sect whispered louder than ever.
He didn't need to hear their words to know what they meant.
Monster.
Curse.
Threat.
The same things they called him back in Dust Hollow.
---
Lin Tao found him before midday, his usual cheer replaced by something quieter.
"Three more disciples requested transfers to other branches," he said. "None of them gave a reason."
Jiang Xuan didn't look away from the clouds.
"What else?"
"They moved your quarters."
That made Jiang Xuan turn.
"Where?"
"Back edge of the mountain. Almost to the outer boundary."
Jiang Xuan raised an eyebrow. "The ghost dorms?"
"They're not… really haunted."
"Only abandoned."
"Because people kept dying in them."
Jiang Xuan gave a humorless smile. "Sounds peaceful."
Lin Tao didn't laugh.
---
Later that day, Jiang Xuan walked the long road to the outer boundary alone. The air grew colder the further he went, and the forest nearby grew thicker, stranger. No birds. No insects. Just silence and trees older than the sect itself.
His new residence stood crooked between stone ridges — a two-room hut with cracked tiles and a warped door. The windows were clouded with dust, the floors littered with fallen leaves.
Inside, it smelled of damp wood and old smoke.
He didn't mind.
It was honest.
---
Back in the heart of the sect, Yao Xi stood before Grandmaster Yao for the first time since her arrival.
He studied her for a long moment, fingers steepled.
"You've been close to Jiang Xuan," he said.
"I've observed him."
"Has he shown signs of instability?"
"He's dangerous," she said calmly. "But not unstable."
The Grandmaster didn't blink. "Yet."
Yao Xi's jaw tightened. "You're planning something."
"We're preparing," he said. "If the seal breaks, we cannot be caught unready."
"You think you can cage him?"
"We don't need to cage him."
"Then what?"
He finally met her gaze.
"We need to be able to kill him."
---
That evening, Jiang Xuan lit a small lantern in the center of the ghost dorm's main room.
The light flickered.
Then dimmed.
He stared at the flame.
Something about it felt wrong.
The fire bent toward him slightly, as if reaching.
He blew it out.
Darkness returned.
But not silence.
There was… a sound.
A low creaking. Not from the floor or the walls.
From beneath.
---
He followed it.
In the far corner of the back room, he found a cracked floorboard.
Pulled it free.
And beneath it…
Stairs.
Old. Narrow. Leading down into stone.
---
Jiang Xuan didn't hesitate.
He lit a spirit-thread lantern from his pouch and descended.
The stairs spiraled deep, much farther than they should have. Farther than any outer disciple area was supposed to go.
At the bottom, a chamber opened up — smooth stone walls, circular, carved with runes long buried by dust and moss.
In the center: a platform.
And on the platform…
A black stone coffin.
It pulsed.
Once.
Then stopped.
Jiang Xuan stepped closer, heart slowing.
The mark on his neck flared hot, then freezing cold.
And a voice—one that wasn't his—echoed through the room.
"Welcome home."
---
The coffin didn't look like stone anymore.
Not up close.
It breathed.
A slow rise and fall, too faint for ordinary eyes, but Jiang Xuan saw it. Felt it. Like a heartbeat trying to remember how to beat.
He didn't move.
The mark on his neck pulsed again — rhythm syncing with the thing in front of him.
His fingers twitched toward his blade.
Not to draw it.
To anchor himself.
Then the voice returned.
"You are not the first."
It wasn't loud.
Didn't echo through the room.
It spoke from somewhere inside his spine — curling behind his ribs.
Jiang Xuan didn't flinch. "What am I?"
"You are the continuation.
The vessel.
The delay."
"Delay?"
"To give the world more time.
Until the next fall."
---
The carvings on the chamber walls shimmered faintly now, triggered by presence or bloodline or fate — Jiang Xuan couldn't tell.
Symbols older than the sect.
Older than any dynasty.
They told a story in silence:
A dark sky.
A creature descending.
The world burning.
Then a man.
Bound in chains of moonlight.
Swallowed by stone.
---
Jiang Xuan stepped closer to the coffin.
His breath fogged slightly in the air — not from cold, but from something deeper.
The lid shifted.
Just a little.
Enough for a sliver of black mist to seep out.
He reached toward it.
Not fully knowing why.
Not fully wanting to.
But the moment his fingertips brushed the stone—
A surge.
Visions slammed into him like thunder:
A battlefield of ash.
A sky split open.
A woman's scream fading into fire.
His own hand — too large, too clawed — dragging crimson across marble.
He fell to his knees, gasping.
The voice whispered again.
"Do you see now?
You are not meant to live.
You are meant to return."
---
Back in the sect's inner chambers, Yao Xi jolted awake.
Her pulse thundered.
Her sword burned hot in its sheath.
Something had changed.
She ran.
---
Jiang Xuan stumbled to his feet.
The coffin had gone still again.
But something inside him hadn't.
The mark on his neck had spread — faint lines now traced down his collarbone, like ink bleeding through skin.
He could feel it pressing beneath his ribs.
Not a power.
A memory.
He was remembering things he had never lived.
He looked up at the carvings again.
That chained figure in moonlight…
It was him.
Or it would be.
---
Footsteps echoed above.
A shape burst down the stairwell — robes, hair, blade drawn.
Yao Xi stopped at the bottom step, eyes wide.
"What is this place?"
Jiang Xuan didn't answer.
He couldn't.
She looked at the coffin.
Then the carvings.
Then his face.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"…You found it."
His jaw tightened. "You knew?"
"I didn't know it was real. Only that… something like this existed."
"You've seen it before."
She nodded. "In the future. When the world fell. When you woke up."
A beat passed.
She stepped closer.
His voice was hoarse. "It called me home."
"I know."
Another beat.
"Will you kill me now?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
---
Instead, she stepped beside him, eyes locked on the black coffin.
Her hand brushed his — just briefly.
"You're not the Demon God," she said.
"Not yet."
"Then we still have time."
---
Together, they turned from the coffin.
The stairs stretched above them like a lifeline.
But neither spoke as they climbed.
Because both of them knew…
Time was running out.
----
End of Chapter 9