A thousand years.
That's how long the heavens claimed I would rot here. A thousand years in chains, buried in a cave no mortal dares to tread, bound in a void where no energy flows.
They thought this would break me.
I lean back against the jagged stone wall, my wrists wrapped in luminous shackles that hum with divine light. The mana void gnaws at me endlessly, stripping away essence, faith, and spirit. Or so it's supposed to.
"Pathetic." I chuckle to myself. My voice echoes in the emptiness, a sound I've grown fond of over the centuries. "Heaven locks me in a place without energy, hoping I'll fade into dust. Instead, I made energy kneel to me. What a joke."
I close my eyes. Within the silence, universes bloom and collapse. Stars born, stars dying. All forged from nothing but stubborn will. I have cultivated where no life can exist. My very existence is blasphemy.
And I am proud of it.
If the gods could see me now, they'd choke on their own arrogance. Ah, but I suppose they already do, every time they glance at the chains and wonder why I'm still smiling.
My lips curl. Because I always smile.
Not because I'm happy. Not because I'm free. But because it infuriates them.
Time drifts. A century feels like a day. A day feels like a century. The void has no rhythm, only my laughter to keep it alive.
Then—
Tap.
A sound.
So small I almost dismiss it as the cave shifting. But no—the rhythm repeats. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps.
My eyes snap open, a wicked thrill surging through me. For the first time in a thousand years, someone dares to walk into this tomb.
The seal tightens instinctively, chains glowing as if aware of what approaches. I ignore them, leaning forward, my grin stretching wide.
"Interesting," I murmur, my voice dripping with amusement. "After all this time… someone finally knocks on my door."
The footsteps grow closer. Hesitant. Uneven. Mortal.
I tilt my head, savoring the anticipation.
Then, as the shadow of a figure flickers at the cave's mouth, I smirk.
---
Li Min's POV
My name is Li Min, and my brother is all I have left.
When the sect defenders rode out weeks ago, I clutched his sleeve, begging him not to go. He only smiled and patted my head the way he always did, telling me, "Don't worry, little sister. I'll be back before the moon wanes twice."
The moon has waned three times now.
The disciples in the outer courtyards whisper when they think I cannot hear. They say the patrol strayed too close to the forbidden forest. That no one who dares its heart ever comes back alive. The elders told me to stay put, to "accept the will of Heaven." But how can I? If I lose him, there will be nothing left of my world.
So I went.
I carried little more than dried rations, a water gourd, and his jade pendant — the only thing he left behind. My sandals wore thin as I stumbled over roots and stones. Thorns tore at my sleeves, and strange beast cries echoed in the dark. Each sound twisted a knot in my chest, but despair was heavier than fear, and despair pushed me onward.
By the fourth night, my legs shook with every step. Hunger hollowed my stomach, thirst cracked my lips. The forest pressed against me from all sides, the trees so dense that no starlight reached the earth. The sounds grew worse — too sharp for birds, too guttural for wolves. The kind of sounds that made the hairs at my neck rise.
Just when my knees threatened to give out, I saw it: a narrow break between ancient trees. Moonlight spilled faintly through, illuminating the dark outline of a cave.
Shelter.
I slipped inside, clutching the pendant tight against my chest. The air was cool, almost unnaturally so, and carried no scent of moss or damp. It felt… empty, as though the world outside had been cut away the moment I crossed the threshold.
Shadows clung to the walls, and yet the cave stretched deeper than it should have, a narrow corridor of stone that seemed to bend inward like a throat. My lantern flame shivered, shrinking low, but refused to die.
I should have stopped at the entrance. I should have curled against the stone and waited for dawn. But something drew me on — a faint pressure in my chest, as if the jade pendant hummed softly, urging me forward.
My footsteps echoed. Too loud. Every tap of my sandals against stone rebounded a hundred times, as if the cave itself listened. I swallowed hard and pressed on.
And then I saw it.
At the very end of the passage, where the shadows pooled deepest, a shape took form.
At first I thought it was a boulder, or perhaps a carved shrine. But no… it was a door.
Not wood. Not iron. Something else — a surface etched with lines so faint they seemed almost alive, glowing and dimming like embers struggling against ash. My breath caught. A door, buried deep inside a mountain? Who would build such a thing?
I should have turned back. Every warning I had ever heard about this forest screamed at me to leave.
But my brother might be beyond it.
My fingers shook as I pressed against the surface. The door groaned like a beast disturbed in its sleep, but it yielded, cracking open with a sigh.
Cold air rushed out, sharp enough to sting my eyes. My lantern flickered wildly, shadows leaping across the chamber beyond.
I stepped inside.
And froze.
There, in the middle of the cavern, sat a man.
He was not chained. He was not bound. He simply sat on the stone floor with his back to me, as if he had been waiting. His long hair trailed down his back, dark as ink, brushing the ground. His shoulders were broad, his posture utterly still, like a statue carved from shadow.
Not sleeping. Not dead.
Just sitting.
I held my breath, clutching the pendant so tightly my knuckles whitened.
Who… who was he?
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