Half a moon passed.
One might think that the son of a Sect Master would spend his days basking in privilege, servants at his beck and call, disciples flattering him with reverence, and elders eager to curry favor. But it was not so with Arthur.
His mornings began at the Alchemy Pavilion, where he ground herbs, refined elixirs, and evaluated recipes. His nights ended under the quiet guidance of his father, Sect Master Liang Zheng, who instructed him in the theory of cultivation.
Liang Zheng was careful, perhaps too cautious. He never mentioned the Immortal Grade cultivation technique that had been bestowed upon him, nor did he teach Arthur anything that might hint at it. Instead, he spoke of the Qi Circulation Paths, Energy Centers, Refinement Breaths, and other fundamentals.
But the irony was sharp; Arthur already knew all of it.
The technique Liang Zheng possessed was one Arthur himself had given him before the succession. The hardest part of those nightly sessions was not learning, but pretending not to know, nodding in understanding, feigning curiosity, concealing every trace of more profound insight.
And amid all this, the shadow of Zi Xuan's poisoning still lingered.
The investigation was meticulous. The Sect Elders had inspected every vial, every herb, and every disciple from the Ten Peaks. Liang Zheng and the others were gradually being cleared of suspicion; nothing incriminating had surfaced. And no one dared to question the previous Sect Master directly, which was unthinkable.
In the end, the Elders leaned toward the conclusion that it was an outside job, perhaps an enemy sect's ploy.
Arthur felt relief wash over him. Although he was confident that no one would ever know.
Even if someone suspected, they would never discover the Venom Thread Seal; its theory alone would take years to understand, even if he were to reveal it to a Solar Acendance Inscriptionist.
As he walked home that night beside his father. Liang Zheng broke the silence.
"Tian'er," he said, "I believe today concludes what I can teach you for now."
Arthur blinked. "Already, Father?"
Liang Zheng smiled faintly. "Already. The foundation is the hardest part, and you've built it well. Besides— " He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a rolled scripture bound in pale-green silk. "— I've written down all that I've taught you. Keep it close. It holds the basic essence of the Qi paths we studied together. Guard it well; it is meant only for your eyes."
Arthur accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly. "I understand, Father."
"Good." Liang Zheng's eyes softened.
They arrived at the mansion.
Mei Lian was waiting at the door. Her eyes narrowed the instant she saw Arthur's tired face.
"Dear, how long do you plan to keep him awake at night? Look at him — he can barely walk straight!"
Liang Zheng coughed lightly, pretending not to hear. "Cultivation requires diligence. Besides, he looks quite alive to me."
Arthur chuckled faintly, though exhaustion clung to every breath.
"Mother, I'm fine," he said, trying to ease her worry.
Mei Lian glared at her husband. "You've become Sect Master, not a slave driver!"
Liang Zheng raised his hands in mock surrender. "Yes, yes. The Sect Master admits his fault."
Dinner followed soon after. There was steamed cloudfish, spirit rice, and lotus broth. They ate quietly, exchanging light conversation about the Pavilion, the sect's affairs, and trivial things.
Afterward, Arthur excused himself. "I'll rest now, Mother."
"Go," Mei Lian said softly, brushing his sleeve. "Sleep early."
He went to his room, fatigue tugging at his limbs. Sleep came easily, heavy and deep, until a knock stirred him from the middle of the night.
He sat up, half-dazed. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Young Master," came Zi Yan's voice through the door.
Arthur opened it, frowning slightly. "Zi Yan? What's the matter at this hour?"
She lowered her gaze respectfully. "Sect Master has summoned you… downstairs."
"This late?"
Zi Yan only bowed. "Please, Young Master."
Arthur sighed and nodded. He followed her down the quiet corridor.
At the bottom of the stairs stood his father, and beside him was a tall figure clad in dark robes, a mask concealing his face.
Arthur froze. He didn't need a second glance to know who stood there.
It was the previous Sect Master.
Arthur started speculating immediately.
Was he being suspected? The question throbbed in his chest like a pulse. The venom thread seal was flawless — no one should have been able to trace it. Then why was the previous Sect Master here? His father's expression was calm, unreadable. That only made Arthur's mind spiral faster.
Before he could speak, Liang Zheng's voice broke the silence.
"Let's go. The Starfall Abyss Mirage will open at dawn."
Arthur blinked, momentarily frozen. The tension that had coiled inside him loosened. So that was the reason.
He nodded faintly, exhaling the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
It took him a few moments to change into a fresh pair of robes. When he returned, several elders stood outside. They departed swiftly
Riding a carriage through the mountain passes under a sky scattered with faint stars, they rolled along the rocky trail. Breaking the silence, Arthur finally spoke.
"Father, the Starfall Abyss Mirage… It's said to open only once every few decades, right?"
An elder with long white brows nodded from the opposite carriage seat.
"Two decades, to be precise," he said, voice steady. "But the cycle is peculiar. For the first ten years, the gates permit entry. Then, for the next ten, they repel anything from entering and begin… releasing what was once trapped inside."
Arthur tilted his head. "Releasing?"
Liang Zheng smiled faintly, as though recalling old lessons.
"Yes. During the first decade, its gates drink the world like absorbing all who enter. In the second decade, it exhales, casting out what remains, though not always what went in."
A younger elder chuckled darkly. "And if you enter after the first year of thirteen moons, you'll never be seen again. Not even a soul trace returns."
Arthur frowned. "Why only the first year?"
The old white-browed elder answered, "We don't know, but we have observed the realm's spatial layers fluctuate wildly after that. Only the first thirteen moons remain calm enough to sustain proper entry. Afterward, the gate devours balance itself."
"And leaving?" Arthur pressed.
Liang Zheng's tone lowered. "Only the final year of the second decade allows exit. Any who attempt to leave earlier vanish completely — as if erased by space itself. Not even the heavens remember their presence."
Arthur nodded slowly.
Spatial Gate Instability, he thought. The gate is probably sealing and forming by itself due to some sort of energy surge in a space-time plane, I suppose.
He glanced out the window. Distant carriages trailed across the ridges, banners of various sects fluttering faintly. The journey was long, yet the air buzzed with silent excitement; every cultivator knew that the Abyss Mirage could grant fortunes beyond imagination.
He looked to his father. "The opportunities within… they must be vast."
Liang Zheng smiled faintly. "They are what made us who we are, Tian'er. The first ancestor entered the Mirage with nothing but a cracked cauldron. When he returned, he wielded treasures that founded the sect atop his fortune. It had offered him so much that the coming generation of our ancestors built the rest of the sect upon it."
An elder at the front peered through the small window, eyes glinting under the starlight. "We're nearing the designated site. The constellations are beginning to shift. We must hurry."
Their carriage slowed as the terrain turned rough and arid. The mountains opened into a vast plateau of cracked, ochre stone. Its edges jagged like broken blades. The land seemed scorched by the heavens themselves, an ancient battlefield of wind and silence.
Ahead, the horizon shimmered faintly under a canopy of stars. Dozens of carriages stood scattered across the plain, each representing a different sect. But all were somehow aligned in a perfect circle, as if leaving the center for the arrival of something.
An elder stepped down from the lead carriage, gazing upward. His fingers moved swiftly, tracing celestial lines in the air. His brows tightened.
"The stars are aligned," he said with urgency. "Everyone, stand back and brace! The gate will open any moment!"
Arthur and the others disembarked. The crowd around them began to stir, murmurs rising into the night as winds picked up.
The sun didn't rise, but the morning light came, then suddenly the sky roared.
A spiraling gale formed at the center of the plain. Dust and sand were torn from the ground, swirling into a massive vortex. The temperature plummeted, lightning cracked across the heavens, striking the very heart of the storm.
Every cultivator retreated to the marked safe zones, forming circles of calm amidst chaos.
The air split open.
A gash of pure darkness yawned in the center of the maelstrom, its edges crackling with spatial light. It pulsed like a living heart, twisting the world around it.
And as the winds howled and the heavens shuddered —
The doors of the Starfall Abyss Mirage opened.