The moon hung heavy that night, a swollen disc of silver draped in mist. It bathed the Azure Wind Manor in pale light, throwing long shadows across the pines and cracked flagstones. For the rest of the household, it was a night like any other—disciples resting in their chambers, guards patrolling the walls, elders meditating in silent austerity.
But in the central courtyard, Feng Xieyun sat alone, cross-legged, fighting against himself.
His breathing was steady at first, each inhalation drawing in the cool Qi of the night, each exhalation pushing out threads of corruption. His dantian pulsed like a quiet drum, and the veins of his Heavenly Demon Dao Bone thrummed faintly beneath his skin. To any casual observer, he would have seemed calm—like a cultivator harmonizing with heaven and earth.
But the truth was otherwise.
A dull throb had begun behind his eyes, like a hammer striking bone. It was faint at first, almost ignorable. He had endured wounds deeper, poisons harsher, betrayals crueler. A headache should have been nothing. And yet… it grew.
The throb became a pulse. The pulse became a roar. Soon it was as if every vein in his skull had been set aflame.
Xieyun's teeth clenched. His fingers dug into his knees. The stone beneath him cracked as his Qi lost rhythm and lashed outward, carving thin fissures across the courtyard floor.
He forced his voice through ragged breath.
"Not again…"
But it came anyway.
The System's voice rose in his mind, cool and emotionless, like a judge pronouncing sentence.
> [System Notice: Host's soul resonance detected. Past-life fragments awakening.]
Each word dug into him like a blade, deepening the agony.
His vision blurred. The world swam red.
And then—images burst through the veil of pain.
A tower of steel and glass, engulfed in fire.
A boardroom lit not by lamps, but by greed in the eyes of men who had once called him family.
A woman's hand slipping from his grasp—not out of weakness, but betrayal.
Her lips whispered promises to another, her smile curving cold as she signed away his life.
And then—flames. Always flames.
The fire that had consumed him once before.
Xieyun screamed.
The cry tore through the courtyard, scattering pine needles, rattling doors in their frames. Birds shrieked awake and scattered into the night sky. Disciples stirred in their beds, whispering of demons, while elders frowned but dared not interfere.
Blood trickled from Xieyun's nose. His body convulsed, Qi spiraling out of control until the courtyard stones cracked further.
---
Far away, deep in the Lin Clan's Eternal Demon Hall, the Patriarch's meditation was broken. His eyes snapped open, pupils narrowing like blades of obsidian.
"He remembers," he breathed.
The gathered elders stirred. Their robes whispered like serpents as they shifted uneasily.
"What do you mean, Patriarch?" one asked, voice trembling.
The Patriarch's gaze was fixed beyond the hall, as though piercing the veil of distance itself. "The child—Feng Xieyun—his past life fragments stir. Not of this world. Not of our plane. A life before."
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Another elder leaned forward, eyes glittering with both fear and greed. "If he remembers… then he is not merely the Lin girl's son. He will reclaim what was once his. He will be… the Primordial Creator himself."
The words settled heavily in the chamber. Some elders looked shaken, as though hearing blasphemy. Others shivered in excitement. The notion of controlling such a being—harnessing the Creator God's reborn form—was intoxicating.
And from the shadows behind the council, a figure stepped forward. Cloaked in black, face hidden beneath a hood, his presence oozed authority like a venomous mist.
The Hidden Master.
The elders bowed instinctively, though none truly knew his origin. He was the Lin Clan's guest, adviser, and executioner all in one. His counsel had steered them through calamities before. But his aura—ancient, cold, and inhuman—always left unease gnawing at their hearts.
The Hidden Master chuckled, the sound low and scraping.
"Do not mistake fate's cruelty for opportunity," he said. "Yes, the boy's past life stirs. Yes, he was once… something greater. But do you fools truly believe you can bind such a force to the Lin Clan?"
The Patriarch's gaze hardened. "Then what do you suggest?"
The Hidden Master's hood tilted, and though his face remained unseen, a smile seemed to stretch across the shadows.
"Watch him. Nurture him. Shape him with a leash so fine he will not know it binds him. And when the time comes…" His hand lifted, pale and thin, fingers curling into a claw. "…harvest him."
A chill swept the hall.
The Hidden Master's thoughts, however, whispered elsewhere, hidden from the elders.
The Unknown God's plan nears completion. The boy's hatred grows. Every memory, every betrayal, every crack in his soul will feed the darkness. When he finally breaks, his power will not be his own—it will be ours.
---
Back in the courtyard, Xieyun collapsed forward, catching himself on bloodied palms. His breath came ragged, each inhale a desperate grasp at survival. His body trembled with the strain of resisting the flood of memories.
But in the chaos—something else pierced through.
A voice.
Gentle, yet commanding. Familiar, yet distant. It cut through the System's cold chimes, through the Unknown God's whispers, through the suffocating pain.
"Yu…"
His eyes widened.
The courtyard dissolved. For the briefest moment, he stood in a void of silver mist. And there—before him—she appeared.
Her hair flowed like rivers of night, cascading down to an endless horizon. Her eyes were galaxies, spinning with chaos and love. Her form radiated both tenderness and destruction.
The Goddess of Chaos.
His wife.
Her lips moved, and her voice was sorrowful, yet resolute.
"Do not let the darkness consume you. Not yet. Remember… you are more than hatred."
He reached for her, but the void shuddered. Her image fractured, breaking into shards of light. A cold laugh echoed in the void—deep, ancient, triumphant.
The Unknown God.
You will break, Feng Yu. You will drown in your own past.
And then—the vision was gone.
Xieyun gasped awake, drenched in sweat, the courtyard spinning around him. The pain lingered, sharp and unrelenting, but within it burned something new.
Hope.
He wiped the blood from his lips and let out a low, bitter laugh.
"If this headache is the price of remembering…" He clenched his fist, eyes glowing faintly crimson under the moonlight. "…then I will endure."
The pine trees swayed in silence. Somewhere in the heavens, the crimson moon pulsed once more.
And in the deepest void, the Unknown God stirred