L
The chamber's echoes still clung to Feng Xieyun long after he left the library. The whispers of the jade tablet, the look in Elder Mo's eyes, the fire carving symbols into his skin—all of it refused to fade.
That night, he walked alone beneath the moon. The peaks stretched like spears into the sky, the stars faint behind the crimson haze that lingered from his awakening. Somewhere deep within, he felt the new power thrumming—quiet but alive, like a predator waiting for command.
Crimson Veil, the System had named it. A gift that concealed his demonic Qi even from sovereign senses. To the world, he would seem an ordinary boy with mediocre talent. Yet in truth, a storm brewed in his marrow.
Xieyun clenched his fists. "The Pavilion would use me, the Lin Clan would claim me… but I will belong to no one."
The night wind carried his words away, as though mocking or promising witness.
---
The following morning, the Pavilion grounds stirred with life. Disciples flooded the training fields, sparring with wooden swords and channeling streams of Qi through their veins. Laughter, shouts, and the sharp crack of bamboo filled the air.
To them, Xieyun remained the same silent child—awkward in his movements, lagging behind his peers, eyes unreadable. It was the mask he had always worn. But behind the mask, he studied. He watched every footstep, every surge of Qi, every weakness they tried to hide.
Mei Yulan, ever observant, crossed his path again. She had not forgotten the trial realm, nor the strange way he had survived. Her eyes lingered a moment too long, as if searching for cracks in his facade.
"You're pale," she said finally, breaking the silence.
"I couldn't sleep," Xieyun replied simply.
"Dreams?"
"…Memories."
Her brow furrowed, but she did not press. Instead, she handed him a cloth. "Wipe the sweat before the elders notice. They'll think you've exhausted yourself without even sparring."
He took it quietly, and for a moment their fingers brushed. Her touch was warm, grounding in a way he hadn't expected. For just a heartbeat, he felt something dangerous—something fragile.
Connection.
---
Later that day, Elder Mo summoned him again. Not to the jade chamber, but to the outer fields, where stone dummies stood in rows for cultivation practice.
"Strike," Mo ordered, hands folded behind his back.
Xieyun bowed slightly, then obeyed. His palm struck the stone, a dull thud echoing. The dummy barely shifted.
Mo's expression did not change. "Again."
He struck again, this time channeling a thread of Qi. The stone cracked faintly. Still unimpressive.
"Again."
Xieyun's brow furrowed. He could feel Mo's intent—pushing him, watching for the slip, the moment when the mask tore. The temptation to unleash the Crimson Veil, to show what he truly was, pulsed beneath his skin.
Instead, he drew back, forcing weakness into his movements. His strike landed soft, almost pitiful.
Mo's lips twitched, almost into a smile. "Good."
"Good?" Xieyun asked, unable to hide the edge in his voice.
"Yes," Mo said softly, eyes unreadable. "A blade hidden too soon dulls before the killing stroke. Remember that."
Then he turned, leaving Xieyun in the field with the cracked stone and the weight of unspoken truths.
---
That night, the System stirred.
> [Hidden Legacy Progression: 23%.]
[New Directive Available: Test Crimson Veil.]
[Target: Human Hostile Encounter Recommended.]
Xieyun's pulse quickened. A human hostile encounter—the System meant combat, not beasts, not dummies.
He left the Pavilion under cover of darkness, his steps silent on the mountain path. In the valley below, rogue cultivators often lurked, drawn by the Pavilion's resources. Bandits who preyed on the weak.
It did not take long. A group of three men, their robes stained and Qi twisted, blocked his path.
"Well, what do we have here?" one sneered. "A lost disciple."
"Easy pickings," another laughed.
Xieyun lowered his gaze, appearing small, harmless. But within, the Crimson Veil stirred, wrapping him in its shroud. His aura shrank to nothing, his Qi hidden so deep that even their senses failed to detect it.
The first bandit lunged. His blade glinted under the moonlight—too fast for an ordinary boy to dodge.
But Feng Xieyun was no ordinary boy.
He stepped aside with measured grace, palm striking the man's chest. For an instant, demonic Qi surged, ripping through bone and blood. The bandit collapsed, eyes wide in shock, throat spilling crimson.
The others froze. "You—!"
Before they could speak, Xieyun's gaze locked on them. The whispers of the Demon Bone rose, mingling with his own memories. The fire of Earth, the betrayal, the faces of those who had laughed as he burned—he poured it all into his eyes.
The men faltered, their courage cracking. One turned to run. Too late.
Xieyun moved like a shadow, each step precise, each strike lethal. When the moon climbed higher, three corpses lay cooling at his feet.
The System chimed softly in his mind:
> [Directive Complete.]
[Skill Proficiency Increased: Crimson Veil 20%.]
[Reward: Soul Fragment Absorbed.]
Xieyun wiped his hands clean on the grass, his expression unreadable. He felt no guilt, no pity. Only clarity.
"This is the path," he murmured. "Not Pavilion's. Not Lin Clan's. Mine."
---
By dawn, he returned to the Pavilion unnoticed, slipping back into the role of silent, mediocre disciple. None saw the faint red glow in his veins, nor the storm coiling behind his calm gaze.
But Elder Mo, watching from afar, frowned. He felt nothing—no ripple, no Qi, no presence at all.
And that absence frightened him more than any killing intent could.
---
✨ End of Chapter Thirteen.