Morning in Jing'an carried the same familiar bustle as always. Vendors shouted along the streets, children chased each other in laughter, and teahouses buzzed with the rhythm of storytellers' voices. It was as though the bloody clash on Mount Zijin the night before had never touched this land.
Li Tianyuan walked through the city gates alongside Fu Yuan, Mu Changfeng, and Mu Xueyin. Though the streets looked unchanged, a sense of estrangement gnawed at him. The battle against black mist and monsters felt like a nightmare from another world, yet the pulse of alien power within his chest reminded him that he could never return to ordinary life.
Fu Yuan seemed to catch his thoughts. "To the eyes of the people, Jing'an remains a city of peace. But the currents have already shifted. The seal weakens, the Inverse Spirit Sect has revealed itself… This calm will not last."
Tianyuan lowered his gaze, unease tightening in his chest.
Fu Yuan arranged for them to lodge at the Mu family's guest courtyard while he combed through ancient records. Yet even in safety, Tianyuan could not quiet his mind. His thoughts wandered to the old chest his grandfather had left behind, still untouched in his family's home.
That night, he returned alone. The long-abandoned house was cold and quiet. Opening the dust-covered cabinet, he found the chest. Its bronze lock was corroded, crumbling at a touch.
Inside lay a few faded garments and books. At the very bottom rested a roll of sheepskin manuscript, edges gnawed by time. Tianyuan unrolled it—and froze.
Scrawled lines stood out, though faint:
"Beneath Mount Zijin, the Nine Cauldrons bind the seal.The nation's fate as its foundation, a cycle of one hundred years.When the seal stirs, a descendant shall face the tribulation."
The ink was mottled, yet a few words gleamed clear—Nine Cauldrons, Mount Zijin, seal. What struck Tianyuan hardest was the signature at the bottom: his grandfather's name.
"Grandfather… you knew?"
His heart surged with turmoil. All his life he had listened to his grandfather's stories, yet never once had he mentioned this. Could the force within his body have always been tied to his bloodline?
As he pondered, faint golden patterns surfaced across his palm, resonating with the symbols on the manuscript. Light flickered between page and flesh, as though a sleeping oath stirred in answer to its heir.
Heat surged in his chest, along with sharper doubts. The key of the Nine Cauldrons? A descendant destined to face calamity? Could I truly be this so-called "key"...?
A gentle knock broke his thoughts. He opened the door to find Bai Luo standing beneath the moonlight, medicine box in hand.
"I heard you were injured. I brought herbs," she said softly, with a firmness that left no room for refusal.
He hesitated, then stepped aside to let her in. As she examined his pulse, her brow furrowed."Your qi… it's unlike others. There's a force within you, surging too strongly. If you cannot suppress it, it may turn against you."
Tianyuan gave a bitter smile. "I don't understand it either. This power forced its way in—I can't control it."
For a long moment, Bai Luo was silent. Then she spoke in a low voice, her eyes carrying a hint of sorrow."Tianyuan… you must never let it consume you. If one day you lose your heart to it, that will be the true danger."
There was something hidden in her gaze, as if she carried secrets unspoken. For an instant, the air between them grew strangely delicate. A warmth flickered in Tianyuan's chest, easing his loneliness—but deep down, he sensed Bai Luo was far more complicated than she seemed.
Beyond the city, in the shadowed forests.
The black-clad leader knelt before a cavern, speaking in hushed tones. "Honored Sovereign, the scholar's awakening is certain. I have already placed our agents within Jing'an to watch him."
A frigid voice echoed from within the darkness. "Good. But watching is not enough. If the Key of the Nine Cauldrons has emerged, it may shift the great seal. If he can be used, bind him. If he cannot—"
The voice turned glacial, like frost on steel. "Destroy him."
A figure stepped forward from the shadows, robed in crimson and masked in bronze, eyes glowing with eerie scarlet light.
The cult leader's head bowed lower, his voice trembling. "The Blood-Robed Priest… the Sovereign has sent you personally…"
The figure let out a rasping laugh. "Heh. Then let Jing'an burn with excitement."
In an instant, his form dissolved into black mist, vanishing from sight.
Back in the Mu residence, Fu Yuan buried himself in ancient records, Mu Changfeng rested, and Mu Xueyin kept quiet watch over the courtyard.
Tianyuan sat alone under the lamplight, fingers brushing over the manuscript again and again. Golden runes flickered faintly across his palm, illuminating the page. Between the symbols, light shimmered like a whisper, as though voices from a hundred years ago spoke through his blood.
He listened—catching fragments of forgotten oaths, or perhaps echoes from his very lineage.
Outside, the wind rose. Clouds smothered the stars. Darkness pressed over Jing'an.
On the rooftops, a shadow slipped silently across the tiles. Crimson eyes gleamed coldly, fixed upon Tianyuan's chamber.
Tianyuan looked up, his chest tightening. His palm blazed with golden light, filling the room with brilliance.
In that moment, he understood—his true trial had come.