The night lingered like a held breath.
Cloudstride Gorge lay silent beneath the slow arc of the moon, its cliffs washed in pale silver, its ancient stones still humming faintly with the aftertaste of the heavenly column that had descended moments before. The winds that moved through its narrow throat carried the last shreds of golden mist, wisps that floated as if searching for a master—and eventually, drifting obediently back toward Lin Xuan.
He sat cross-legged upon the stone platform where Heaven's light had fallen, his breathing so quiet it seemed the night itself adjusted to him.
A serene veil of jade-gold qi wrapped around him, bending the moonlight as if the heavens bowed in acknowledgment.
Yu Qinglin stood not far from him, her expression a mixture of awe and disbelief—yet tinged with something softer, something she wouldn't dare voice. Not now. Not yet.
For Lin Xuan, however, the world had faded into a deeper stillness.
Inside him, deep within the oceanic wellspring of his dantian, the Third Dragon Vein coiled like a living river of molten jade, pulsing in slow, majestic waves.
Each pulse seemed to ripple through his bones.
Each ripple revealed something ancient.
Each revelation reshaped the trajectory of his fate.
Lin Xuan's consciousness drifted within the inner sea of his spirit.
He saw the Dragon Vein clearly now—no longer a fragmentary vein of dim qi, but a serpentine river of luminous gold and emerald, its scales made of flowing runes, its body woven from the purest essence of the Dao. The other two veins, though powerful, curled around it like younger siblings around an elder.
But what startled him wasn't the brilliance.
It was the voice.
Not spoken.
Not heard.
Simply known.
"Where heaven gazes, rivers bow."
"Where destiny stirs, mountains breathe."
The meaning unfolded in his mind like a lotus opening under sunlight:
The awakening of the Third Dragon Vein is not merely a blessing.
It is a summons.
He inhaled slowly, exhaling like someone letting go of a secret too heavy for words.
The Dragon Vein responded with another low, thunder-like pulse.
In that instant, his qi radiated outward in a soft halo, brushing the edges of the gorge.
Yu Qinglin's eyes widened. She instinctively took a step forward before stopping herself.
"…Lin Xuan," she whispered under her breath, though he couldn't hear her, "How much deeper does your Dao truly go?"
She didn't know.
He wasn't sure either.
But the mountain knew.
And somewhere far beyond the valley, an ancient cultivator—who had sensed the earlier awakening—paused mid-flight.
He opened his eyes.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So… the third pulse has opened," he murmured. "At last. A child blessed by Heaven walks again."
His silhouette flickered, breaking into motes of light as he accelerated toward Cloudstride Gorge.
The Second Sign
Back within the gorge, the stone beneath Lin Xuan began to tremble—softly, as if in recognition. The ancient platform on which he meditated grew warm under him, and faint cracks of light spread like thin rivers of molten gold.
Yu Qinglin tensed.
"Another reaction?!"
The glow intensified, spreading beneath Lin Xuan like the veins of a slumbering beast awakening after an era of stillness.
And then—
HOOOMMM—
A deep resonance shook through the gorge.
The sound was not loud; rather, it felt like the whisper of a mountain exhaling after centuries.
Lin Xuan's eyes snapped open.
But they were no longer the calm black of a youth ascending.
They glowed faintly with three rings of golden light, each rotating slowly, each bearing the echo of a dragon's call.
Yu Qinglin unconsciously took a step backward.
"Your eyes…"
He blinked once.
The glow faded.
But the mountain had already recognized him.
And so had something else.
For the platform beneath him began to sink—no, not collapse, but descend like a grand mechanism unlocking after ages of silence. A circular outline formed around the edges, glowing with Dao markings, and slowly lowered into a hidden chamber beneath the gorge.
Lin Xuan rose smoothly to his feet.
He did not panic.
He did not flinch.
His breath remained even, his pulse undisturbed.
"Something below has been waiting for us," he said softly.
Yu Qinglin looked at him.
"For us?"
He nodded, but his gaze drifted toward the descending platform, his eyes calm yet unwavering.
"Nothing in Heaven descends without reason. Nothing beneath the earth awakens without intention. The timing is too precise."
Yu Qinglin swallowed.
"So Heaven allowed you to awaken the Third Dragon Vein… to open this place?"
"…Perhaps."
His tone held no arrogance.
No pride.
Only a quiet clarity—like a man speaking the truth he simply saw.
The platform touched down with a soft chime.
Warm air brushed past them.
An ancient scent—dust, time, forgotten incense—rose like the breath of a slumbering tomb.
Lin Xuan took the lead.
Yu Qinglin followed, though her fingers unconsciously brushed the hilt of her sword, not in fear, but in reverence.
The chamber was vast.
Circular.
Silent.
Lit by thousands of tiny motes drifting like floating fireflies.
But the centerpiece was what made Yu Qinglin gasp.
A vast mural—carved not on stone, but into the air itself—floated before them.
The mural showed a dragon rising from a human heart, its coils forming three luminous rings around the figure's spirit.
Lin Xuan stared at it for a long moment.
Yu Qinglin whispered, "…It looks like you."
The mural pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
And then—its rings rotated.
A beam of soft gold connected to Lin Xuan's forehead.
He stiffened, though only slightly.
Yu Qinglin reached for him.
He raised a hand, silently signaling her to stay back.
Images flooded his mind—quick flashes of ancient battles, the shattering of realms, rivers reversing the flow of time, a dragon coiling around the bones of a dying world, and a voice whispering:
"Three veins awakened… the fourth seeks you."
His heart thudded once.
The vision shattered like glass.
Lin Xuan exhaled, slow and steady.
But Yu Qinglin could tell—
Something had changed.
"…What did you see?" she asked softly.
Lin Xuan looked at the mural, then at his hand, where faint gold motes still flickered.
"A path," he murmured. "A path that should not exist anymore."
Yu Qinglin's breath caught.
"What do you mean?"
He lowered his hand.
"The Fourth Dragon Vein… is not lost."
Yu Qinglin froze.
"But legends say—"
"Yes," Lin Xuan said quietly. "That it vanished in the last Great Collapse. That the world swallowed it. That Heaven sealed it."
He looked at her.
"It seems Heaven does not wish it to remain forgotten."
Her pulse quickened.
"Lin Xuan… if that rumor is true, then the forces searching for it—"
He nodded.
"—will come for whoever can open the path."
Their eyes met.
For a moment, Yu Qinglin saw something heavy behind his, something like a destiny he never asked for but could not refuse.
And then—
BOOM!
Both jerked their heads upward.
A shockwave ripped through the gorge above them.
Another.
Then a third.
The chamber trembled.
Dust fell from unseen corners.
A voice—calm, aged, yet impossibly powerful—echoed from the surface:
"Child of Heaven. Step outside."
Yu Qinglin's blood ran cold.
"…He found us."
Lin Xuan closed his eyes for a breath.
When he opened them again, they reflected neither fear nor defiance.
Only stillness.
Only acceptance.
Only clarity.
"Heaven does not hide what it blesses," he whispered. "Let us see who has come."
He stepped toward the staircase leading upward, each footfall echoing with a quiet certainty.
Yu Qinglin rushed to his side.
"Lin Xuan… be careful."
He paused for just a moment.
And he said something that would later become a screenshot shared by countless readers:
"Caution is my shield.
Destiny is my blade."
He ascended.
Yu Qinglin followed.
The chamber dimmed behind them, its last lights flickering out—
as if awaiting their return.
Above, the ancient cultivator waited for him.
The mountain held its breath once more.