Time at the bottom of the cliff had no meaning.
Only the thin current of warmth flowing through her veins, and the faint ripples within the Fate Chart, marked its passage.
Lin Wan remained almost motionless—like a vine rooted within a fissure of sheer stone, drawing life in increments too small to measure.
The rhythm of the Return-to-Origin Breathing Art had become instinct. Each shallow inhalation resonated faintly with the sparse currents hidden within this land of death—moisture, wood essence, mineral milk—gathering into a thread that prevented extinction.
Yet the true sustenance came from elsewhere.
Gu Xuan and Lin Qingyao had become unwitting pillars of supply.
Every cycle of their cultivation, every breakthrough, every surge of emotion that stirred the spiritual currents around them shed fragments of power. The Fate Chart harvested it all—cold, precise—transforming waste into warmth within Lin Wan's ruined body.
Especially Lin Qingyao.
Since merging with the false Chaos Immortal Bone, her cultivation advanced rapidly. With each refinement of pill or stone, the subtle rejection between pseudo-bone and sect foundation produced that faint trace of primordial resonance—the one note that made Lin Wan's soul tremble.
It nourished her far beyond ordinary qi.
"My dearest sister," Lin Wan thought, accepting the offering without gratitude.
The Fate Chart Revealed
Through careful exploration, its functions clarified.
First — Sect Awareness.
The brightness and movement of each mote reflected a disciple's condition. Several lights had dimmed or vanished—likely death in trial or deviation in practice. The sect's overall current glowed steady, slightly rising. Gu Xuan and Lin Qingyao's ascension strengthened the surface prosperity of Tianyan Sect.
Second — Subtle Influence.
When Lin Wan focused upon a dim outer-disciple light, she could faintly sense emotion—anxiety, triumph. With effort, she could nudge perception: a suggestion that the qi felt denser here, that a rival's stance held a flaw. The effect was negligible and costly, but influence, once possible, could someday matter.
Third — Resonance with the Grand Array.
The Fate Chart remained a root of the sect's founding matrix. Even fractured, it resonated with the mountain-guarding formation, ancestral shrine, and hidden realms. These were distant lighthouses in darkness. For now, she could only perceive them—but perception was foundation.
Still, it was insufficient.
Her flesh had sealed; scars remained. Her organs stabilized. Bones held together by borrowed warmth. Yet her dantian and meridians were shattered wasteland.
She was a broken vessel that could not retain water.
Maintenance was not restoration.
The Forgotten Nodes
At the illuminated boundary of the sect's territory, beyond the fog, Lin Wan discerned nearly extinguished star-points.
She touched one.
Memory burst—
Ruined halls. Fallen stelae. A phantom cultivator in archaic robes practicing a solitary sword form before dissolving into light. The architecture bore faint resemblance to the ancient Xuanji Palace.
Lost Sect Relic Node detected.
Status: Abandoned. Destiny depleted.
Residual information accessible at low probability. Mental strain required.
An abandoned branch of the ancient sect.
Worthless to the present.
Perhaps invaluable to her.
She extended her awareness carefully.
A whisper answered—echoes of formation resonance, fragments concerning ley lines, spiritual convergence, and sealing principles.
The Fate Chart brightened—barely.
Historical foundation linkage slightly strengthened.
Fate Chart restoration progress: 0.0001%.
Mental strain: Moderate.
A path existed.
By reconnecting to lost relics, she could slowly restore the Chart—and through it, herself.
Progress would be glacial.
Glacial progress was still progress.
The Rhythm of Survival
Her existence gained structure.
Most hours—breathing, absorbing, enduring.
Brief intervals—probing relic nodes, enduring exhaustion.
Occasionally—practicing subtle influence upon insignificant disciples, testing limits.
Then the Chart trembled again.
Core Disciple Gu Xuan has stabilized Foundation Peak.
Preliminary Natal Sword Intent formed.
Rewarded three days' entry to the Sword Pavilion.
Absorption: +8 refined qi; minor Sword-Intent fragment acquired.
A sharper warmth coursed through her—laced with a fragment of comprehension.
Gu Xuan's talent was undeniable.
Soon after—
Inner Disciple Lin Qingyao has claimed first place in sect competition.
Advancement assisted by pseudo-Chaos Bone recovery traits.
Granted Core Foundation Art Cloudwater Scripture and resources.
Rejection resonance intensified.
Absorption: +12 refined qi; 2 strands weak Chaos trace.
When Qingyao exerted the bone fully, the resonance between them strengthened—still one-sided, but present.
A thread to remember.
The more they were rewarded, the more abundant her harvest.
Then—
The entire Chart quivered.
Not from within.
From above.
Warning: External destiny probe detected.
Source: Unknown. High-tier signature. Possibly upper realm.
Trace dissipated. Monitoring.
Upper realm.
The possibility struck like cold iron.
Xiao Chen.
If he had consumed most of her origin, if ten thousand years had passed, he would stand among the powers of the heavens. Would he be watching Tianyan Sect? Had the reappearance of the Chaos Bone drawn attention?
Or worse—had he sensed that Xuanji Zi had not entirely vanished?
Her enemies were not merely the two brilliant lights within the sect.
They included a sovereign beyond the skies.
Strength was no longer desire—it was necessity.
Water dripped endlessly against stone.
Lin Wan opened her eyes.
Within them burned something deeper than hatred—resolve honed by patience.
The Fate Chart bound her to past and present, to sect and betrayers alike.
It was a spider's thread stretched across an abyss.
And she would climb it.
Climb from the Burial Immortal Cliff.
Climb back to the polished, perfumed halls of Tianyan Sect.
Climb until she stood once more before those who tore her apart.
Then return, with interest, all that had been given.
She closed her eyes again.
Her breathing shifted—subtly edged with the sharpness of a blade. The fragment of Gu Xuan's sword intent was being refined within her weakened yet unyielding spirit.
In darkness, the web of vengeance grew—
thread by thread.