Mistveil Valley was a forgotten corner of the world, where clouds wept year-round and the sun rarely touched the earth. Tucked between the spines of ancient mountains, the valley had become home to the Outer Mist Sect, a humble branch of a long-fallen empire of cultivators.
And among the sect's lowest-ranking disciples, a boy named Li Shen awoke to the whisper of a scar.
He sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of his hut, bare-chested, his back straight despite the ache in his muscles. A single candle flickered beside him, barely keeping the darkness at bay. The scar on his chest—black, veined, and shaped like a spiral—pulsed with heat.
It was not a normal scar. It was alive.
He winced, his breath catching. Again, the whispers returned—not from outside, but inside. Not words, but impressions. A call. A hunger.
He opened his eyes. They were golden. Not the golden brown of normal eyes, but bright, molten gold. Unnatural. Unwanted.
The sect called them a curse.
A knock came at the door. "Shen?"
He stood, slipping on a robe. "Come in."
The door creaked open and Lin Su entered, her face pale from the cold morning air. She was a disciple like him, but more than that—his only friend. Her long black hair was tied back in a simple braid, her sword slung across her back.
"You didn't come to morning drills," she said. "Elder Mo will notice."
"The scar is acting up again," he replied.
She frowned and crossed the room. Without hesitation, she knelt and placed a hand on his chest, over the scar.
It burned hotter.
"You need to speak to the elders. This… this isn't normal."
"I did once. They told me to meditate harder."
She pulled her hand back. "Something's changing in you."
Before he could reply, the distant gong of the sect bell echoed through the mountains. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Summons," Lin Su said, standing quickly.
Li Shen grabbed his blade, a plain iron sword dulled from use. "Let's go."
The disciples of the Outer Mist Sect gathered in the Grand Pavilion. Fog rolled over the steps, curling around their feet like hungry spirits.
Elder Mo Chen stood before them, dressed in flowing robes, his long beard fluttering in the wind.
"Disciples," he announced, "the Mistveil Gate has stirred. For the first time in decades, the Shadow Hollow Realm calls for blood."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"You will enter as a trial. Those who return will be eligible to enter the Inner Sect."
Li Shen's heart pounded. The Inner Sect? That was a dream even Outer Elders rarely whispered.
But something deeper stirred in his chest. The scar throbbed, as if awakened.
He looked at Lin Su. She nodded.
The Mistveil Gate shimmered like a curtain of water between two standing stones. Runes pulsed along its surface.
"You sure about this?" Lin Su asked.
"No," Li Shen admitted.
They stepped through.
Shadow Hollow Realm
It was night. Or perhaps the realm knew no sun at all. Trees towered like skeletons, and black vines slithered like veins along the ground.
A dozen disciples had entered. Only silence greeted them.
A scream pierced the dark.
Li Shen and Lin Su ran toward it. They found a boy—Wei Jun—dragged into the shadows by a creature that had once been a man. Its flesh sagged like wet paper, eyes glowing red.
Lin Su struck first. Her blade burned with spirit flame, cutting deep into the creature's neck.
It didn't die.
Li Shen stepped in. His scar flared, and something surged through him—a technique he didn't know he had. His body moved, swift and fluid.
One strike.
The creature fell.
Wei Jun sobbed, covered in blood. "That thing—it spoke to me. It knew my name."
Lin Su stared at Li Shen. "You moved like a master. That wasn't training."
Li Shen stared at his own hands, the scar glowing beneath his skin.
"I think… I just unlocked something."
They moved deeper into the Hollow. The environment warped—time stuttered. They found a ruined temple, half-buried beneath bone-white trees.
Inside, a mural. A man with golden eyes stood above a battlefield, surrounded by beasts and gods alike.
Li Shen approached. His scar burned.
Words etched themselves into his vision:
"He who walks the Veiled Path shall lose himself before the end."
Then the ground shook.
A figure stepped from the shadows. Tall. Robed in black mist.
It spoke one word: "Heir."
Before either of them could react, the figure struck.
A battle unlike any Li Shen had ever faced. The figure seemed to dance through the mist, blade cutting through air and memory alike.
Li Shen fought not with skill—but with instinct. The scar led him.
Lin Su fought at his side, her flames lighting the dark.
They triumphed. Barely.
As the figure faded, it whispered: "Gate One… open."
And runes burst from the mural, searing into Li Shen's skin.
He collapsed.
When he awoke, Lin Su was kneeling beside him, exhausted.
"You were out for hours," she said.
"I saw… something. A gate. No, three. And behind each… a piece of who I am."
"Are you saying this path… changes you?"
"No," he said, eyes distant. "It consumes you."
He looked down at his hands, now marked with glowing script.
And far above, in the real world, the elders watched.
Elder Mo Chen turned from the scrying basin, voice heavy with fear.
"The Path of Veiled Realms has been awakened. And its heir has begun to walk."