The sky had not yet returned to peace.
Though the heavenly blood rain had ceased, dark red clouds still hung heavily in the sky, cloaking the mountain peaks where the ruins of the Heavenly Blood Pavilion stood. The scent of aged iron and lightning mixed with a silence so eerie it sent chills down the spine. The world felt as if it were holding its breath—like an ancient beast lurking just behind the sky.
Amid the fractured, nearly collapsed ruins stood a young man clad in tattered black robes, his body cloaked in a dark mist that flowed like liquid shadow. Ye Tian. His presence was calm, yet the aura emanating from him made the air around him tremble uncontrollably. The ground beneath his feet was cracked, as if rejecting the energy spilling from his body. Behind him, the blood seal on the back of his hand still faintly glowed—a mark of the Three Tribulation Seal, the cursed legacy and power of the ancestors that could only be awakened by heavenly blood.
Yet Ye Tian did not move.
He stared straight at the body of the masked man now lying unconscious, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. The treasured guqin that had been his weapon was now split in two, unable to withstand Ye Tian's final strike. But Ye Tian knew—the one he had just defeated was not the true enemy, merely a messenger. Just a small trial sent by something far greater.
"I'm… still too weak," he muttered softly.
Though a portion of the power within his body had awakened, he had yet to fully control it. The blood channels in his dantian were still raging wildly, like dragons and demons locked in battle within a single body.
Suddenly, from afar, the sound of swift and rhythmic footsteps echoed. A dozen black-clad figures shot out from the forest, moving at high speed toward Ye Tian's location. Among them, the aura of high-level cultivators was unmistakable—some even emanated a pressure equal to the elders of great sects.
Ye Tian slowly turned his head. There was no fear in his eyes, only cold calculation.
"Heaven truly grants me no time to breathe," he said quietly before leaping onto a large stone, standing to face their approach.
As the figures drew near, a woman emerged at the front of the group. She was still young, perhaps around twenty, yet the power radiating from her made the heart of anyone watching pound fiercely. Her long silver-white hair gleamed under the blood-red sky, her eyes sharp as blades, and her white robes bearing the insignia of the Heavenly Sword Sect fluttered in the wind.
"Name?" she asked curtly, her voice flat.
"Ye Tian."
The woman paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing sharply. "Ye Tian… son of a mixed-blood pair, presumed dead in the ambush seven years ago?"
Ye Tian raised his chin slightly, neither confirming nor denying.
One of the men behind her immediately drew his sword. "Seize him! He's a harbinger of disaster, heir to the cursed heavenly bloodline!"
But the woman raised her hand, stopping them.
"No. We don't strike... not yet." She looked at Ye Tian more intently. "You absorbed the Heavenly Blood Codex, didn't you?"
Ye Tian remained silent.
But in his silence, the answer was clear. The aura surrounding his body was too distinct. Any elder of a great sect would recognize it: only those who had merged with that forbidden technique could emit such a thick, blood-tainted black mist.
The woman dismounted. Her steps were light, but each footprint left an imprint in stone—a sign that her cultivation had reached sky-level mastery.
"I am Bai Ningxue," she said at last. "Daughter of the Grand Elder of the Heavenly Sword Sect."
Ye Tian nodded slightly. The name was not unfamiliar. In the secret records deep within the Heavenly Blood Pavilion, Bai Ningxue was known as the Celestial Cold Sword—one who would shake the cultivation world with her white blade, and also... the only one fated to stand against the rise of the 'Eternal Shadow'.
"If you truly are Ye Tian," Ningxue said quietly, "then the world will change… faster than we had expected."
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The silence between them was brief, yet the tension hung like a fragile thread ready to snap at any moment. Bai Ningxue stood tall, her eyes sharp with calculation, as though trying to pierce the mist of mystery surrounding Ye Tian. Her followers dared not approach, either from command or from the residual spiritual pressure of the earlier clash.
Ye Tian gazed at her emotionlessly. His eyes were like mirrors, reflecting no fear, no rage, no respect—only frozen calm. Once, he might have bent beneath such pressure, but now… he had seen far more than any ordinary man was ever meant to.
"You wish to test my strength?" Ye Tian finally asked, his tone flat but booming like thunder held at bay.
Ningxue didn't answer immediately. She inhaled, then turned away, walking slowly from the ruins.
"If I attack you now," she said without looking back, "I might win. But I won't get the answer I seek."
Ye Tian narrowed his eyes slightly. "Answer?"
"Yes." Ningxue stopped at the edge of the cliff. "I want to know… whether the heavens truly reject you. Or if you are the one chosen by the heavens to destroy the old world."
Ye Tian didn't react.
But in his mind, Ningxue's words struck deep. He had heard many titles in his life—child of the curse, demon-blooded, heir of destruction. But never before had anyone called him 'the chosen of the heavens'. It wasn't praise—it was a prophecy far more terrifying.
"This world fears what it cannot control," Ningxue continued. "The great sects call you a threat not because you are evil… but because you will not kneel."
Ye Tian stepped forward. "Then why did you come? To deliver a message from your sect, or to warn me?"
"I came… to choose," Ningxue whispered.
Their gazes met. Two eyes from different worlds—one carried heavenly light forged in discipline and honor, the other held a darkness tempered in betrayal and blood. In that meeting, no words could explain what they saw in each other, but both knew… this would not be their last encounter.
"Your path and mine will cross again," said Ningxue. "Whether as allies… or as enemies."
With one swift motion, she leapt back onto her steed and signaled her troops to withdraw. In seconds, they vanished into the mist, leaving behind silence and ruins.
Ye Tian remained standing, yet something had changed in his eyes. Not many could see him as more than a curse. Ningxue was an exception.
But the road he walked would be far from easy, let alone peaceful.
He looked toward the sky still shrouded in red mist. The shadow of the blood seal on the back of his hand slowly faded, leaving behind a faint mark only visible to those who could read fate.
In the distance, a great gong from the north sounded—a tone struck only when the cultivation world prepared for the grand sect conclave. An event that came once every hundred years… and this time, it seemed, all major powers would attend.
Ye Tian clenched his fist. "Very well… if the heavens wish to play, I will carve the path with blood and shadow."
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