The night in Azure Mist was quiet, save for the chirping of crickets and the faint sigh of the wind that slipped through the trees. The shrine ruins were still, as they had always been—silent stone, cracked idols, and moss-covered steps.
But tonight, Lin Xuan was not alone.
The man in dark robes stood at the edge of the clearing, his hat casting shadows over his face. His presence was suffocating, as though the air itself thickened around him. Lin Xuan gripped the small axe tighter, the rough wood handle slick in his sweaty palm.
"You should not have awakened here, boy," the stranger repeated, his tone calm but edged with warning.
Lin Xuan's mouth was dry, but he forced himself to speak. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The man's silence was more terrifying than a threat. He stepped forward, and each footfall was deliberate, steady, like a predator closing in on prey.
Instinct screamed at Lin Xuan to run. But something deeper, something forged in him through pain and humiliation, rooted his feet. He had only just begun his path. He would not cower—not again.
"I don't know who you are," Lin Xuan said, voice trembling but firm, "but this shrine is nothing more than broken stone. If you want it, take it. I have nothing of value."
The man chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "Nothing of value? Boy… you carry the scent of the Eternal Veins. That alone makes you worth killing."
Lin Xuan's heart slammed against his ribs. Eternal Veins. The name of the scripture. This man knew of it.
The stranger lifted his head slightly, and though his eyes remained hidden, Lin Xuan felt them burn through him. "Hand over the scripture's fragment. Do so, and I may grant you a clean death."
A storm of thoughts raged in Lin Xuan's mind. He didn't have the pendant anymore—it had shattered into light, its scripture etched into his very veins. There was nothing to hand over, even if he wanted to.
"I… don't have it," Lin Xuan whispered.
The man tilted his head, studying him. Then his sleeve flicked. A gust of spiritual energy surged forth, striking like a hammer.
BOOM!
Lin Xuan was thrown back, crashing into the shrine wall. Pain exploded across his chest as he coughed blood, vision swimming. His axe clattered uselessly to the ground.
"You dare lie to me?" the man's voice was ice. "The Eternal Veins do not vanish—they merge. It is within you."
Lin Xuan struggled to breathe. His ribs ached, his body screamed to collapse, but somewhere inside, the golden thread of Qi stirred, faint but alive. He dragged himself to his feet, wiping blood from his lips.
"I won't… give you anything," he rasped.
The man's sleeve flicked again. Another wave of energy hurtled forward. Lin Xuan threw himself aside, barely dodging, the ground splitting where he had stood.
The difference in power was monstrous. This man was a true cultivator, far beyond the spark of Qi Lin Xuan had touched. Fighting him was like a candle resisting a storm.
Still, Lin Xuan refused to kneel.
He grabbed his axe, forcing the golden thread through his arms. His veins burned, his body shuddered, but strength filled his grip. With a roar, he swung.
The blade cleaved through the air, whistling toward the man.
With a flick of his fingers, the stranger caught the axe mid-swing. Wood splintered, iron groaned, and in a heartbeat, the weapon shattered.
"You have spirit," the man said coldly. "But spirit without strength is meaningless."
Lin Xuan staggered back, chest heaving. His arms were numb, the axe reduced to fragments. Still, his eyes burned with defiance.
"I'd rather die fighting than beg for mercy."
For the first time, the man paused. His hidden gaze seemed to weigh Lin Xuan anew. "Interesting. Most with your weakness cling to life. You choose to spit in death's face."
He raised his hand, spiritual light gathering at his fingertips. Power hummed, sharp and lethal, enough to tear Lin Xuan apart in an instant.
Lin Xuan clenched his fists, preparing to lunge with nothing but his body if he had to. He knew he could not win—but he would not die crawling.
The man's hand trembled. Not with hesitation, but with restraint, as though something unseen pressed against him. His head turned sharply toward the heavens.
Above the shrine, clouds gathered without warning. Lightning flickered within, silent but furious. The air crackled with a primal weight that made even Lin Xuan's blood run cold.
Heaven's Will.
The man hissed softly, lowering his hand. "Tch. So it awakens already. The heavens themselves shield you, boy. How… vexing."
Lin Xuan blinked, stunned. Shielded? By the heavens? He did not understand, but the man's sudden retreat was undeniable.
The stranger's voice was low, venomous. "Do not think this luck will last. The Eternal Veins are cursed. They will bring you nothing but pain. When next we meet, I will tear them from you, root and soul."
With a swirl of his robes, the man vanished into the trees, his presence fading like smoke.
The silence that followed was deafening. Lin Xuan sank to his knees, chest heaving, every muscle trembling. Blood stained his lips, his body screamed in agony, yet his spirit burned hotter than ever.
For the first time, he had stood against true power not as a victim, but as one who refused to yield.
He looked at his trembling hands. Faint golden lines shimmered beneath his skin, pulsing like veins of fire. The scripture within him had responded, even if weakly.
"The heavens… protected me?" he muttered. "Or was it the scripture?"
His mind spun with questions. Who was that man? How did he know of the Eternal Veins? What curse did he speak of?
And why would the heavens intervene for someone like him?
The shrine seemed darker now, its broken walls echoing with unseen weight. Lin Xuan pushed himself upright, swaying but unbroken. He could no longer treat this gift as a quiet miracle. Others knew of it. Others would come.
The Eternal Veins were not simply a chance at cultivation. They were a beacon one that would draw both enemies and fate itself to his door.
As he staggered home, the storm above rumbled faintly, though no rain fell.
And in the depths of the forest, unseen eyes watched him go, whispering to each other.
"The boy survived."
"The heavens stir."
"The world will not remain quiet."