The night had draped the Hidden Village in silence.
A vault of stars shimmered in the dark sky, casting a spectral glow over the residence of the village chief.
Behind the imposing wooden building, a secluded courtyard sheltered a large stone basin. The water, deep black in color, gently boiled under the influence of infused spiritual herbs. A thin mist rose from its surface, disturbing the cool night air.
"Ahh!"
A muffled cry shattered the silence.
Wang Chen, a sixteen-year-old youth, struggled against the pain, gritting his teeth so hard it felt as though his jaw might break.
Submerged up to his shoulders, he felt the essence of the herbs biting into his flesh. This was no ordinary bath—it was a baptism of fire meant to purify his blood.
Beside him stood an unmoving figure.
Wang Shixiong, the village chief and the boy's grandfather, watched him closely. Though his cultivator's robe was simple, it carried a natural elegance. His beard, as white as eternal snow, cascaded down his chest.
"Wang Chen… hold on."
His voice was firm, yet a trace of concern lingered beneath it.
"Do not fight the heat. Focus on circulating your blood."
Wang Chen closed his eyes.
The sensation was unbearable, as if thousands of burning needles were traveling through his veins.
Yet he obeyed.
He guided the flow of energy just as he had been taught.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
The Awakening of Bloodlines would take place for all the youths of the village.
For Wang Chen, it was more than a ceremony.
It was his only chance.
Since childhood, his frail body and chronic illnesses had made him the shadow of the genius he should have been. In the village alleys, many already wagered that he would not survive the awakening.
Yet…
he was still here.
The heat intensified.
The herbs had now completely dissolved, releasing a raw power that surged into his pores.
The pain had become an inner inferno.
Hold on…
he repeated silently.
He remembered the warnings of the elders.
Without perfect purification, the veins could burst under the pressure of the bloodline.
He could not fail.
Not after everything he had endured.
Wang Shixiong broke the silence with a low voice.
"Wang Chen… you are my only blood. I do not wish to lose you as I lost your parents."
The old man lifted his gaze toward the vast starry sky, as if searching for answers within it.
"This village is a gilded cage. No one leaves it without paying a price… So become strong. Strong enough to write your own destiny and crush those who dare stand in your path."
His gray eyes fixed on his grandson with renewed intensity.
"No matter the outcome tomorrow, I will stand beside you. Even if it means facing the Seven Clans of the Hidden Village. But stay vigilant… your sudden recovery remains a mystery, and some will not welcome your success."
Wang Chen opened his eyes.
They burned with determination.
The mist from the basin drifted slowly around his face. Despite his still-fragile body, his features were calm and harmonious, as if sculpted by silent resolve. His damp black hair fell slightly over his pale forehead.
But what struck the most was his gaze.
When he opened his eyes, one could see that his irises were not the same.
One shone with a deep blue, as calm as the night sky.
The other glimmered with a strange golden light, like an ancient flame.
Under the starlight, the difference gave his gaze a mysterious, almost unreal aura.
"Grandfather… I will not disappoint you."
As he spoke those words, the image of his parents—lost during that mysterious mission—crossed his mind.
A silent vow carved itself into his heart.
Suddenly, something strange happened.
Beneath the surface of the water, one of the spiritual herbs disintegrated into a dust of ebony.
Exhausted, Wang Chen noticed nothing.
But Shixiong's gaze froze.
For a fraction of a second, an ancient and icy aura of death had emanated from the basin.
The old man stood motionless, staring at the water as it returned to calm.
"Wang Chen, that is enough for tonight," he finally said in a neutral tone. "Go rest. You will need every ounce of strength for tomorrow."
As the young boy stepped out of the water, unaware of the disturbance in his elder's mind, Wang Shixiong remained alone in the dark courtyard.
What was that sensation…?
Why did death seem to linger around him?
---
Wang Chen returned to his small room, his mind still hazy from the lingering heat of the basin.
The moment his head touched the pillow, a heavy and unnatural sleep dragged him into darkness.
But it was not rest that awaited him.
He suddenly stood in the middle of an ocean of blood.
Beneath his feet, the viscous and warm liquid stretched endlessly, perfectly still.
Above him, the sky was pitch black—an empty canvas devoid of stars.
The silence was absolute.
Until a whisper tore through the void.
A cold voice, vibrating from the marrow of his bones, echoed inside his chest.
"Finally… the seal is cracking…"
Wang Chen jolted awake.
His body convulsed, drenched in icy sweat.
Through the window, the first rays of sunlight pierced the mountain peaks.
The day of the ceremony had arrived.
He placed a hand on his chest, where his heart pounded like a war drum.
That was when he saw it.
Beneath the pale skin of his wrist, a thin black vein pulsed with his heartbeat.
Dark as charcoal.
It seemed to crawl beneath his flesh before fading away again in a split second.
"What was that…?" he whispered, his throat tight.
He had no time to seek an answer.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The drums of the central plaza thundered, shaking the walls of the house.
The call had been made.
The entire village awaited him.
The hour of Awakening had arrived.
---
Moments later, the central plaza of the Hidden Village was already packed with people.
At the center of the square, where the crowd dared not approach too closely, stood the Altar of the Inverted Saint Demon.
Its black stone surface was covered in a network of forgotten runes whose lines seemed to twist against the laws of nature.
At its summit rested a small black dagger, its blade forged from pure darkness.
Wang Chen walked beside his grandfather, cutting through the crowd amid a storm of venomous whispers.
"Look, it's the chief's grandson…"
"Still so pale… If he fails, his grandfather will lose all legitimacy."
Wang Chen clenched his jaw.
The insults cut through the air like blades, but he did not lower his gaze.
Suddenly, the elders of the Seven Ancient Clans made their entrance:
Long, Xuan, Feng, Shi, Mo, Hai, and Yan.
They advanced with icy arrogance, the crowd parting before them like the sea before death.
The Elder of the Long Clan, a man with reptilian eyes, climbed the steps and raised his hand.
Silence fell instantly.
"Let the ceremony begin!"
As Wang Chen joined the line at the foot of the altar, his grandfather, Wang Shixiong, took his seat as Chief of the Village.
His silver robe shimmered, contrasting sharply with the gaudy golden attire of Elder Long.
"Elder Long…" Shixiong began in a calm but authoritative voice. "Why are the seven clan leaders not present? You know that the Awakening is the most crucial step for our youths. It is the only moment when they may one day attempt to break the Seals of their Spiritual Gates."
Elder Long stretched a displeasing smile across his face.
"They are on an important mission, Chief Wang Shixiong. Surely you know that, don't you?"
He released a mocking, coarse laugh that echoed across the entire plaza.
The message was clear.
They no longer respected the authority of the Wang family.
Below, Wang Chen felt a dark anger rising within him.
At his wrist, the black vein pulsed so violently he thought his skin might split open.
"Bring forth the first candidate!" Elder Long thundered, deliberately ignoring the stone-like expression of the village chief.