Jing'an City, usually bustling with merchants, scholars, and the endless din of street vendors, had grown strangely subdued. The rhythm of daily life carried on, yet beneath the laughter of children and the ringing of bronze bells from the marketplace, a quiet unease coiled in the air. It was as though the heavens themselves held their breath, waiting for something unseen to descend.
Inside the Mu family courtyard, Li Tianyuan practiced ceaselessly. His body was drenched in sweat, steam rising faintly from his shoulders even on a cool night. Each time he struck out with his palm, golden runes flared to life, crawling across his skin like living fire. The power was violent, untamed, and with every pulse it sent shudders through his frame.
He clenched his teeth and forced it down, but it was like holding back a raging flood with bare hands. His knees trembled, his vision blurred, yet he refused to stop.
Mu Xueyin, watching from under the lantern's light, finally spoke. "Enough, Tianyuan. If you keep forcing it, you'll destroy yourself before your enemies even arrive."
Her voice carried the calm of one used to command, but there was an edge of worry she could not hide.
Tianyuan shook his head, his breath harsh. "If I don't master it, then when the storm comes, I will only drag you all down."
Xueyin stepped forward, placing her hand over his wrist. The golden glow dimmed under her touch, if only slightly. "Then stop fighting it as an enemy. Guide it, let it flow, like wind through the pines. Only then will it bend to your will."
He closed his eyes, trying to take her words to heart. Yet deep inside, he knew—this power was not a gentle stream. It was a dragon straining against its chains.
Elsewhere in the city, Fu Yuan combed through the Grand Archive. Scrolls lay scattered across the floor, maps unfurled across low tables, their ink faint with age. His candle burned low, casting long shadows over the weary lines of his face.
When Tianyuan finally sought him out, the old Daoist simply shook his head. "The records are incomplete, yet their warning is clear enough. The Nine Cauldrons are the anchor of the great seal. If the Inverse Spirit Sect succeeds in breaking them, then…" He trailed off, his gaze drifting to the storm-darkened sky beyond the window. "…then calamity will not come as an enemy at the gate, but as the very air we breathe. There will be no sanctuary left."
Tianyuan's chest tightened. But before he could press further, a breathless guard burst in. "Master Fu—unnatural mist has been sighted outside the eastern walls!"
That evening, Jing'an shuddered beneath a storm. Clouds devoured the moon, and the once-lively streets fell silent. Merchants packed away their goods in haste, doors slammed, shutters rattled in the wind. The city felt like a fortress under siege, though no enemy had yet shown its face.
Rumors swirled like wildfire—livestock gone missing, travelers swallowed by white fog, eerie howls echoing beyond the forests. Mothers pulled their children indoors, whispering prayers to gods long thought absent.
In the governor's hall, torches flared against stone walls. Officials argued fiercely, their voices a mix of fear and disbelief.
"We cannot rouse the city guard based on rumors!" one cried.
"Rumors?" Mu Changfeng's voice cut through the clamor, cold and sharp as a drawn blade. His hand rested on the hilt at his side. "Do you not hear the people trembling? This is no rumor. The Inverse Spirit Sect moves under cover of darkness. If we wait for proof, we'll be counting corpses before dawn."
The hall fell silent. Some still looked away, unwilling to face the truth, but none dared challenge him further.
Later that night, in the Mu family courtyard, Tianyuan sat with Bai Luo. Rain pattered gently against the eaves. She unwrapped the bandages from his hand, her touch careful, almost tender. The golden runes beneath his skin pulsed faintly, as though alive.
"You're burning up again," she whispered, her brow furrowed.
He forced a weak smile. "It grows worse every night. Like a beast clawing from within."
For a heartbeat, sorrow flickered across her eyes. She lowered her gaze, her voice barely audible. "If only you knew the truth of what binds you…"
But she did not finish.
A thunderous knock shattered the moment. A guard's voice rang from beyond the door. "Master Fu summons everyone to the city wall. The mist… it's moving closer!"
The storm unleashed its fury as they reached the eastern ramparts. Rain lashed like arrows, lightning split the heavens, thunder rolled as if the mountains themselves roared.
Beyond the walls stretched a sea of black mist, vast and suffocating. It devoured the fields, crawled over the forests, and pressed steadily toward Jing'an. Within the haze, vague shapes twisted—beasts, half-seen horrors, things that should not walk the earth.
Fu Yuan stood at the forefront, robes plastered to his thin frame, talisman glowing fiercely in his hand. His voice was steady despite the storm. "So… the Sect finally bares its fangs."
The city guard lined the walls, spears shaking in their grip, eyes wide with dread. Some whispered prayers, others simply stared in frozen terror.
Mu Changfeng drew his blade in one swift motion. Lightning caught the steel, making it blaze like a streak of fire. "If they think Jing'an will fall as easily as the wilds, they are mistaken!"
At that moment, from within the mist, a voice rose—hoarse, mocking, filled with venom that seeped into every ear."Descendant… you cannot escape us. We are coming."
The words seemed aimed directly at Tianyuan. His palm erupted in golden fire, runes blazing so brightly they pierced the storm. The guards gasped, stepping back. Even Fu Yuan's face paled.
Then, the mist parted.
A figure emerged, draped in robes the color of fresh blood, a skull-topped staff clutched in one hand. His eyes glowed faintly red, and his voice dripped with cruel amusement."The seal weakens, the heavens tremble… and you, child of fate, will be our offering."
The Blood-Robe Priest of the Inverse Spirit Sect had come.
The storm over Jing'an had broken—and it was only the beginning.