The Hall of Eternal Roots loomed in Ironbloom Valley, a cavernous chamber of blackened obsidian, its walls carved with qi runes that pulsed like bleeding wounds. Torchlight flickered, casting shadows that writhed like flayed spirits across the bone-strewn floor. The air reeked of iron and decay, heavy with ley-line energy that clawed at the throat. Twenty young cultivators, Ironbloom's chosen talents, knelt on jade mats, their qi signatures flickering like dying embers, most languishing in Foundation Early. At the rear, Xun Wei, 15 but with the mind of a Mid Sky Immortal from a future 300 years hence, sat in silence, his black robes plain, his eyes lowered in a facade of humility. Beneath his serene mask, his Void Dantian throbbed like a caged beast, its crimson and golden currents coiling in a volatile dance. His god-level soul, immune to demonic taint, pulsed with stolen power that seeped into his meridians without cultivation, a secret he guarded from the Celestial Mandate's unseen eyes.
Elder Cang, a stooped figure whose Starflow Technique wove faint constellations across his tattered robes, stood before a jade tablet, its runes glowing with forbidden knowledge. His cultivation, Core Formation Late, pressed against the room like a storm held at bay, his sunken eyes piercing the students. "Cultivation is sacrifice," he rasped, his voice a blade through the hall's oppressive air. "The Nine Mortal Realms—Foundation, Core Formation, Heavenstage, each with Early, Middle, Late sub-realms—forge your dantian, meridians, and soul. Foundation builds your qi reservoir, fragile but essential. Core Formation solidifies it, forging a core of power. Heavenstage aligns you with the heavens, a step toward immortality. Beyond lie the Immortal Realms: Earth, Sky, Celestial Sovereign, who rival the Mandate itself." He pointed to Zhao Fen, her black hair tied in a severe knot, her Frostwind Technique at Foundation Middle chilling her mat. "Zhao Fen excels, but she is mortal." Zhao Fen smirked, her eyes darting to Xun Wei, expecting weakness. His face was stone, unmoved by her pride or the murmurs of praise from others, his mind a fortress of cold calculation.
Xun Wei's thoughts turned to his past life, when he, a D-grade cultivator with a cracked dantian, forged the Dual Path of Eternity to defy fate. The righteous Light of Serenity bathed his meridians in golden warmth, a stabilizing force that anchored his soul. The demonic Crimson Fang Technique was a blood-red serpent, burrowing into others' dantians to siphon life essence, leaving husks that crumbled to dust. Their synergy shattered the Celestial Mandate's boundaries—divine laws capping even Celestial Sovereigns—but the clash risked catastrophic qi deviation, meridians rupturing like torn veins, and soul dissonance, where the self dissolved into gibbering madness. In his Abyssal Hollow base, he had tested the Crimson Fang on bound cultivators, their screams echoing as crimson tendrils drained their qi, flesh withering, eyes sinking into skulls, bones collapsing into ash. The Mandate's hosts found the carnage—skeletons piled like trophies, drained husks frozen in terror—branding him a heretic. Clans betrayed him, fearing his power; the Mandate sent puppets to crush him. Xun Wei felt no remorse, only necessity. Sacrifice was power, and he would spare no one, not even Zhao Lin, his cousin, whose life he claimed to fuel his ascent. Her death was a means, nothing more.
Cang's lecture grew grim. "Demonic paths tempt with power but taint the soul—madness, decay, death. Righteous cultivation aligns with the heavens, but it is slow, rigid. Choose wisely, or perish." Hua Ling, a gentle girl with the Jade Blossom Technique at Foundation Early, clutched her mat, her voice trembling. "Demonic paths sound like suicide…" Kai Ren, brash with the Thundercoil Technique at Foundation Middle, sneered, "Only fools chase shortcuts." Xun Wei's cold gaze flicked to them, then away, his heart ice. None knew he had forged the Dual Path, a secret he would guard until he carved his throne in the Void Realm.
Elder Cang called for a demonstration. "Zhao Fen, show your Frostwind." She rose, her qi erupting in an icy gale, frost shards slicing the air, carving shallow cuts into a nearby mat. The jade tablet glowed, rating her Foundation Middle. "Adequate," Cang said, his voice devoid of warmth. His eyes fell on Xun Wei. "You. The Spirit Ascension Mirror awaits."
The students turned, murmurs rippling like a venomous tide. The Spirit Ascension Mirror, an ancient artifact at the hall's center, gauged a cultivator's potential by reflecting their soul's resonance with heaven and earth. Last year, it rejected Xun Wei, cracking under his D-grade dantian. Zhao Fen hissed, "He'll break it again." Hua Ling whispered, "Poor Xun Wei…" Kai Ren laughed, "Latrine duty awaits."
Xun Wei rose, dusting imaginary specks from his robe, his movements deliberate, serene. He stepped to the mirror, its surface dark as a starless void. The hall fell silent as he laid his palm on it. Nothing. Snickers began. "Still broken," Kai Ren muttered. Then, the mirror groaned, a low wail like a dying beast. Golden light exploded, followed by a crimson pulse, like a heartbeat in a coffin. The energies coiled—yin and yang in violent harmony—forming an ouroboros glyph, its eyes hollow stars that seemed to stare back. The hall's ceiling trembled, hairline cracks zigzagging through the dome, dust raining like ash from a funeral pyre.
Elder Cang surged to his feet, his Starflow flaring like a supernova. "What—?!"
The mirror dimmed, the glyph fading. Xun Wei withdrew his hand, his face serene, his eyes cold as death. "A fortunate insight last winter, near the Withering Cliff," he said, voice flat, devoid of pride or fear.
Zhao Fen snarled, "You expect us to believe that lie?"
Cang adjusted his spiritual lens, voice trembling. "Resonance… beyond measure. Dual energies—gold and crimson. Heretical, yet…" He turned to Xun Wei. "You are promoted to Inner Disciple. Report to the Hall of Flames by sundown, or face demotion."
"As you command," Xun Wei replied, bowing slightly, ignoring Zhao Fen's smoldering glare. Her talent, once Ironbloom's brightest, was now eclipsed, and her fury was a flame he would stoke to his advantage.
Dawn broke over the training grounds, a low sky heavy with ash-gray clouds, the air thick with the stench of sweat and blood. Disciples faced off in a circle, their qi clashing in bursts of frost, flame, and thunder. Elder Cang barked commands, testing combat compatibility. A disciple faltered mid-spar, qi erupting chaotically, blood bursting from his eyes and ears. He collapsed, clawing the ground, screaming, "My meridians!" The crowd gasped, Hua Ling trembling, Kai Ren sneering. Xun Wei watched, his serene mask perfect, as the boy's life faded, his body still, blood pooling like a crimson mirror. Sacrifice was power, and he would not intervene.
Cang's voice cut through. "Zhao Fen versus Xun Wei."
The air stilled, the crowd's whispers dying. Zhao Fen strode into the ring, her eyes burning with frost, her Frostwind Technique at Foundation Middle radiating malice. "Don't think your mirror trick saves you."
"I wouldn't insult you," Xun Wei replied, arms folded, voice flat, his serene mask hiding a predator's intent.
Her qi erupted, an icy gale with shards of bitter cold slicing toward him, carving gashes in the stone. He slid back, crimson qi rising in twin streams, cloaked by Light of Serenity to appear righteous. Zhao Fen blinked, shocked. "Foundation Middle? Already?!"
Her hesitation was her undoing. Xun Wei surged forward, golden qi cloaking his fist as he struck her shoulder—a pressure point. She stumbled, gasping, her qi faltering. His Crimson Fang Technique struck invisibly, crimson tendrils burrowing into her dantian, siphoning a sliver of her life essence. Her skin paled, eyes widening in horror as she collapsed to one knee, clutching her chest, blood trickling from her lips.
Xun Wei halted, offering a hand, his smile cold, unreadable. "You've improved. But so have I."
She slapped it away, humiliated, her voice a rasp. "What did you do?!"
"Just an insight," Xun Wei said, his voice devoid of warmth, his eyes glinting crimson for a heartbeat. He stepped back, his serene facade intact, but his mind calculated her breaking point. Zhao Fen's fury was a tool, her pride a chain he would tighten.
The crowd buzzed, whispers of Xun Wei's legend spreading like wildfire. Elder Cang's eyes narrowed, sensing a shadow beneath the boy's serenity. Kai Ren muttered, "He's no talentless worm anymore." Hua Ling clutched her robes, fear flickering in her eyes. Zhao Fen staggered to her feet, her qi unstable, her glare promising vengeance. Xun Wei turned away, dismissing her as one dismisses a broken blade, his thoughts on greater prey.
That evening, the Hall of Flames stood silent as a crypt, its bone-red jade altar glowing with a sickly light, as if fed by blood. Elder Yan, Ironbloom's enforcer of punishment and politics, emerged from the shadows, his crimson robes billowing like spilled blood. His qi, at Core Formation Peak, wrapped around the room like iron chains, suffocating. His eyes narrowed, glinting with malice. "You climbed fast for a weed, Xun Wei."
"I intend to bloom," Xun Wei said softly, his tone devoid of warmth, his gaze unyielding as a blade.
Yan smirked, his voice low. "Weeds speak in riddles?"
"They survive trampling," Xun Wei replied, his serene mask perfect, hiding the predator within.
Yan's gaze sharpened, his qi probing like a venomous barb. "You remind me of a boy—clever, proud, dangerous. He touched forbidden knowledge, and it consumed him." He stepped closer, voice dipping to a whisper. "Your resonance was unnatural. The mirror has judged for five centuries, never bending like that. Dual energies are heresy."
"Then report me," Xun Wei said, his eyes unblinking, his voice flat as a grave.
Yan chuckled, a sound like breaking bones. "Heresy is only punished if it threatens the status quo. If it benefits the sect…" He leaned in, his breath sour. "Would you kill Zhao Fen?"
Xun Wei's face remained stone, his mind calculating. "Not yet. But soon."
Yan's grin widened, revealing yellowed teeth. "Excellent. Report to my quarters at dawn. I have… techniques. Forbidden, but rewarding. The Blood Thorn Technique binds blood to qi, draining your foes' vitality. Prove your loyalty, and it's yours."
"I understand," Xun Wei said, his voice a cold promise of blood. He bowed, his serene facade hiding the hunger for power that burned within.
As he left, Yan's qi pulsed beneath the floor, a serpent watching its prey. Xun Wei sensed it but dismissed it, his mind already plotting how to wield Yan's knowledge—and one day surpass him.
That night, in his secluded dorm, Xun Wei sat cross-legged under a jade lantern, its sickly glow casting shadows like clawing hands across the stone walls. His Void Dantian pulsed, stolen power flickering like a storm within his meridians. He summoned a phantom scroll from memory—Eon Cycle: Breath of Reversal, a technique he'd theorized in his past life to manipulate time's flow within his qi channels, accelerating his cultivation. With his god-level soul, it was within reach. Pressing his fingers into a seal, crimson qi coiled into a serpent sigil, its fangs dripping with hunger. Golden Light of Serenity wove through it, stabilizing its chaotic pulse. The scroll ignited, pain lancing through his spine as his meridians expanded, screaming under the pressure. Blood spilled from his bitten tongue, pooling on the floor like a sacrificial offering, but he endured, his mind a fortress of ice.
"Balance," he murmured. "One stabilizes, one consumes."
The technique snapped into place, his cultivation surging from Foundation Early to Foundation Middle, compressing a week's progress into a single night. He collapsed, chest heaving, blood staining his robes, but his eyes gleamed with cold triumph. To cement his power, he recalled a ritual from his past life: in Abyssal Hollow, he lured Zhao Lin, his sister, under the guise of aid. Her trust was his weapon. As his Crimson Fang siphoned her qi, her screams filled the chamber, her body withering into a husk, eyes frozen in betrayal. He watched, unmoved, her death fueling his ascent to Mid Sky Immortal. Sacrifice was power, and he would spare no one—not kin, not allies, not Zhao Fen.
Far in the Void Realm, in the Celestial Mandate's temple of silence, divine waters rippled like a disturbed grave. A golden-robed being stirred, its voice a hiss. "A new power stirs… unnatural."
An ancient, mechanical voice echoed, cold as iron. "No. He is… other."
"Intervene?"
"Not yet. Let him climb. The higher he rises, the harder he falls."