The hall lay in ruin, silent save for the ragged rhythm of Luo Tian's breathing.
His knees buckled as he leaned against one of the shattered pillars, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His skin was torn by shallow cuts, his clothes damp with blood and sweat, and his threads shimmered faintly in the gloom, their luster dimmed from overuse.
The Loom Guardian had fallen. The monstrous entity of woven steel and ancient qi was nothing more than scattered fragments of glowing dust. For a long while, Luo Tian simply stood there, trembling, his heart hammering.
I… I survived.
The thought felt unreal. The memory of the guardian's spear cutting toward his throat still burned in his mind. If not for Ling Xi's timely warnings and his desperate weaving of life and resilience, he would be nothing more than another corpse lying forgotten in this hall.
"Idiot! You nearly tore your threads apart. Do you have no sense of self-preservation?"
Ling Xi's voice rang in his head, sharp but quivering at the edges. She materialized beside him, her translucent form glowing faintly like moonlight reflected on water. Though she scolded him, her eyes lingered on him longer than necessary, softening with worry.
"I had no choice," Luo Tian rasped, clutching his chest. "If I didn't strike when I did, it would've been over."
"You gambled your life," she retorted. "And if you lost, so would I. Do you not understand that my soul fragment is bound to your Life Thread? If you die, I fade into nothing."
Her words pierced him more deeply than the guardian's blows ever had. Luo Tian stared at her, his throat tight. He hadn't realized… not fully.
"You mean… if I fall, you vanish?"
Ling Xi nodded, her expression unreadable. "Yes. That is the curse of being tethered to you. Our fates are entwined, whether you like it or not."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Luo Tian felt the weight of her words settle heavily upon his heart. It wasn't just his own survival he had to fight for anymore—Ling Xi's existence depended on it as well.
"I'll remember that," he said quietly, his voice carrying a newfound resolve.
---
Dragging his weary steps, Luo Tian moved deeper into the Loom Hall. The air was thick with ancient qi, every breath heavy as though he were inhaling the weight of centuries. The walls, now that the battle was over, glowed faintly, revealing vast murals carved into stone.
His breath caught.
The murals depicted figures unlike anything he had seen before—towering beings woven from countless radiant threads. Some raised their hands and mountains rose; others waved a sleeve and seas parted. Whole continents spun at the flick of their fingers.
"These… are weavers," Luo Tian whispered, awe-struck. "They shaped the world itself."
Ling Xi floated closer, her expression equally captivated. "These are not mortals. They are the ancient Immortals of Thread. They walked paths even higher than the Thirteen Realms you've heard of."
"The Thirteen Realms…" Luo Tian's gaze lingered on one mural where a figure's body bloomed with threads, each one glowing with a different hue, piercing the heavens themselves. "So the path I'm walking… it wasn't meant for humans?"
"Perhaps it was," Ling Xi said softly, "but it was forgotten. Buried. Suppressed."
Her tone grew bitter at the end, and Luo Tian noticed. But before he could ask, something else caught his eye.
At the base of one mural lay scattered fragments—bones, rusted weapons, broken jade slips. Dozens of corpses littered the edges of the hall, their features long since lost to decay, but faint strands of thread still clung to their remains.
Luo Tian crouched, his fingers brushing the brittle bones of what had once been a cultivator like himself. The moment he touched the remains, a faint whisper brushed his mind.
"…the sect… they feared the Threads of Eternity…"
His eyes widened. Another voice echoed faintly, overlapping with the first.
"…beware the one who weaves them all… the boy cursed at birth…"
The whispers faded like smoke. Luo Tian jerked back, his chest tightening. He looked at Ling Xi, but she seemed frozen, her translucent form flickering.
"You heard it too?" he asked.
She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes. Echoes left behind by their threads. This place… it remembers."
"The sect feared the Threads of Eternity…" Luo Tian repeated under his breath. His fists clenched. The decree that had exiled him, that had marked him for death—it wasn't random. They knew. They feared him.
For the first time, true anger burned in his chest—not just at his fate, but at the invisible chains that had been wound around him since birth.
---
His fury simmered as he pressed deeper into the hall, but the Loom Hall was silent once more. No more guardians emerged. Instead, at the very center of the chamber, a shattered throne stood. Upon it lay a spindle of gold, cracked down the middle, glowing faintly.
Drawn as though by instinct, Luo Tian reached for it.
The moment his fingers brushed the golden spindle, light exploded. A single golden thread snapped free and lashed onto his chest, searing his flesh with a burning brand. Luo Tian cried out, staggering, clutching at his heart. The thread burned like fire and ice, weaving itself into his Life Thread.
"Luo Tian!" Ling Xi's panicked voice rang in his ears. "It's not trying to harm you—it's marking you!"
The pain was unbearable, but through it Luo Tian felt something else—a connection, vast and terrifying. For a heartbeat, he saw beyond the hall, beyond the mountains, beyond the world itself. Countless threads stretched out into the void, binding stars, weaving galaxies. And at the center of it all was… him.
Then the vision vanished, leaving him gasping, drenched in sweat. A faint golden mark shimmered on his chest, pulsing with light.
"What… was that?" he asked hoarsely.
Ling Xi stared at him, her expression pale with shock. "That was a legacy brand. The Loom has chosen you as its successor."
"Successor…" Luo Tian echoed. The word felt heavy. Too heavy.
Before he could process it further, the ground trembled. The walls of the hall groaned as if awakening from centuries of slumber. Far above, the entrance of the cave shuddered. Luo Tian's head snapped up.
Outside, he felt them—qi signatures, sharp and cold, converging like wolves scenting blood.
Sect hunters.
"They're coming," he muttered, his jaw tightening.
The golden brand pulsed against his chest, as though mocking him. He wasn't just an exile anymore. He was prey carrying a treasure that others would kill to claim.
Ling Xi floated closer, her voice low but fierce. "Then we run. But remember this, Luo Tian—this brand is not just a curse. It is proof. Proof that you were never meant to die as they decreed. You were meant to weave eternity itself."
Luo Tian met her gaze, his own eyes blazing. His body was battered, his threads dim, but deep inside him, something new had ignited.
Not just survival. Not just defiance.
Destiny.
He turned toward the trembling entrance of the Loom Hall, his fists clenched, his Life and Resilience threads flickering weakly but stubbornly.
"Let them come," he whispered. "I won't run forever. If the world wants me gone, then I'll carve a mark it can never erase."
And with that vow echoing in the ancient hall, Luo Tian stepped forward—straight into the jaws of those who hunted him.