The morning air at the foot of Mount Qingyuan felt heavier than usual. A thin mist drifted among the pine trees, hiding the silent peak of the old temple above. That place, once the symbol of serenity, was now trembling under whispers that spread faster than wind, whispers about a boy without a spiritual core who had defeated higher-level disciples.
Jian Wu.
His name echoed everywhere, from the kitchens of servants to the meditation halls of elders. Some called him a curse, others a miracle. But one thing was certain: the peace of the Sky Tranquil Sect was no longer the same.
In the training yard, the sound of swords slicing through the air echoed sharply. Among the rows of disciples, Li Feng lowered his blade, his breathing rough. The wound on his ribs still ached, yet his eyes gleamed with determination.
"So you really saw it?" asked a young disciple beside him, half in disbelief. "That black and white aura from Jian Wu's body?"
Li Feng nodded slowly. "It wasn't ordinary energy. It felt like… two worlds colliding inside one person."
The other disciples exchanged uneasy glances. "But how can someone without a spiritual core control that much power?"
Li Feng didn't answer. He looked down at his sword, then said quietly, "Maybe the answer isn't about where the core is… but about who's strong enough to bear it."
Meanwhile, in a dim incense room, the elders of the sect sat in a circle. The faint smoke of sandalwood filled the air. No one spoke at first, the silence itself seemed heavy.
Elder Qian, whose hair was white as frost, finally broke it. "That boy's power defies balance. Without a dantian, his body should have collapsed under that pressure long ago. Yet he endures."
Across from him, Elder Mei frowned. "Perhaps the heavens are playing tricks on us. Or perhaps… something else is moving behind him."
"There are no miracles without a price," Elder Qian muttered. "I've lived long enough to know that."
Elder Ling, who had been silent, finally opened his eyes. "I once read an ancient record from the Era of Origin. It spoke of cultivators who lost their cores, yet drew power through another path. They were called Voidbearers, beings who walk the line between creation and ruin."
The room fell tense. Elder Mei struck the small table in front of her. "You're not saying Jian Wu is one of them, are you?!"
Elder Ling turned his gaze toward the misted window. "I'm saying the signs look eerily similar."
Outside the main hall, under a cherry tree shedding its blossoms, Mei Xue sat alone. Pink petals fell into her hair, but she didn't notice. Her mind was still caught in that memory, Jian Wu's eyes during battle. Calm, yet holding something that wasn't human. Not just strength, but loneliness, a deep, unbearable solitude that seemed older than his years.
Soft footsteps approached. Li Feng came carrying two cups of steaming tea. "You didn't sleep again, did you?" he said half-jokingly.
Mei Xue accepted the cup. "How could I? The sect is filled with whispers. Some are afraid of him. Some… admire him."
Li Feng sat beside her. "I don't blame them. Jian Wu isn't like us. But somehow, I feel like he doesn't fight to win. He fights to survive."
Mei Xue looked at him, her expression thoughtful. "And that's what makes him terrifying. People who fight not for power, but to survive, they're the hardest to predict."
They fell silent for a while, listening to the faint chime of a temple bell carried by the wind.
By the lake behind the sect, Jian Wu sat cross-legged on a rock. The water was still, reflecting two faint colors from his body, black and white, weaving like day and night unwilling to meet. He stared at his reflection, speaking softly as if to someone unseen.
"Every time I try to control you, you fight back. But I know… you're part of me."
For a split second, the reflection flickered, and the eyes in the water turned completely black.
A voice hissed inside his mind. "You wield power that isn't yours. Do you really think you can defy what you are?"
Jian Wu closed his eyes. "If my destiny is ruin, then I'll fight it, even if it means fighting myself."
The wind suddenly surged, rippling across the lake. The black and white light collided, and the surface of the water trembled as if the heavens were holding their breath.
From the shadows of the trees, someone was watching.
A figure cloaked in black stood quietly among the pines. His face hidden, but beneath the hood gleamed a pair of golden eyes. His voice was soft, almost reverent.
"The Heir of the Primal Law… finally reveals himself."
Then he vanished, leaving behind a faint trace of energy that even the earth refused to touch.
Night fell slowly. The Sky Tranquil Sect was wrapped in silver moonlight and drifting fog. Inside the main hall, the elders gathered again, the air between them heavy with unspoken fear.
Elder Qian's tone was sharp yet low. "I've received reports from the northern forest near the old temple. Disciples claim they saw a golden shadow moving through the trees."
"Is it connected to Jian Wu?" asked Elder Mei.
"Everything seems connected to him now," replied Elder Ling. "As if the world itself has begun to shift because of his presence."
Before they could speak further, a deep gong rang across the sect, a signal of minor danger. Then came a shout from outside.
"Spiritual entity spotted at the front courtyard!"
The elders rose to their feet.
In the courtyard, chaos had broken out. Disciples ran in panic as the air shimmered. From above, a golden shape descended, a humanoid figure with vast wings of light. Its face was blurred, its form half real, half energy.
Li Feng and Mei Xue arrived just as the figure touched the ground. "Is that a guardian spirit?" Mei Xue asked, her voice trembling.
Li Feng shook his head slowly. "No. This isn't a guardian… it's a messenger."
The golden being lifted one glowing hand and turned its gaze toward the lake behind the sect. A deep, echoing voice rolled through the night like thunder from another world.
"The Heir of the Primal Law… your time is near."
Then the light faded, and the figure dissolved into the wind.
By the lake, Jian Wu opened his eyes. He had heard it, the voice that was neither human nor divine. And deep down, he understood: the world that had long ignored him had finally begun to call his name.