The day grew increasingly frightening, as though the world itself had sensed an approaching catastrophe and was bracing for impact.
Above the Yanli Continent, the sky was no longer vast and serene. Red-veined clouds spread endlessly across the heavens, twisting and overlapping like exposed arteries, glowing faintly with an ominous, sickly light. They pulsed slowly, as if alive, casting long crimson shadows over mountains, rivers, and ancient sect grounds below. What had once been a tranquil late evening—where the wind carried the scent of earth and blooming herbs—was now tainted by a suffocating presence. Dark energies seeped into the air, heavy and corrosive, distorting spiritual currents and making even seasoned cultivators feel uneasy in their bones.
This was not a sign that invited prayer.
It was a warning of ruin.
At the heart of Yanli Continent stood its current leader—Hong Tian Luo. His name alone carried both authority and controversy. He was known not only as the ruler of Yanli, but also as the half-brother of Lady Cangyin. How such a blood connection came to be was a mystery no record could fully explain. Some said their lineage was cursed; others whispered that the truth had been erased deliberately. Regardless, the world could not separate Hong Tian Luo's rise from Lady Cangyin's fall.
Lady Cangyin had disappeared.
No farewell.
No declaration.
No final words to those who followed her.
She vanished as if the heavens had simply erased her existence, leaving behind nothing but questions and resentment. In the absence of answers, suspicion naturally fell upon Hong Tian Luo. Whether deserved or not, history had already written him into the shadows of her disappearance.
According to ancient records, one hundred thousand years ago Lady Cangyin had descended into the mortal realms under direct orders from the Heavenly Emperor.
From that moment onward, calamities followed her path like an unshakable fate.
Kingdoms rose and fell. Alliances fractured.
Divine beings interfered where they never should have. Yet no one knew what truly happened during that descent—only that after it, nothing was ever the same.
That unanswered history was precisely why Xing Yue sought the scroll.
Not only to uncover the truth behind Yanli Continent's past—but to learn what had become of her closest companions from that era. Those who had once stood beside her, sharing laughter, battles, and vows beneath the ancient heavens. Their fates had been swallowed by time, just like Lady Cangyin herself.
Xing Yue lifted her gaze toward the corrupted sky, her expression calm but her heart heavy.
This sky… it is sick. That was her first instincts. He thoughts like whenever things like this happens.
She knew, without doubt, that nothing good could come from such an omen. The heavens rarely revealed their intentions so blatantly unless disaster was already in motion.
Yet one thing she was certain of—
This is not the Red Omen.
The Red Omen always arrived with a bleeding moon, its crimson light spilling across the world like an open wound. She remembered it vividly. The suffocating pressure. The way fate itself seemed to scream. This sky, though terrifying, carried a different resonance—colder, quieter, and far more calculated.
They had managed to leave the Loop Forest.
But even that victory felt hollow.
Xing Yue could sense it clearly now—they had not escaped by chance.
They guided us out. She had thought.
The Loop Forest did not release its prisoners without reason. Someone was watching.
Testing. Allowing events to unfold just enough to maintain control. Whatever force was manipulating their path was not acting blindly.
And that disturbed her more than any visible enemy.
Her fingers tightened slowly at her side as her thoughts sharpened with anger she tried to hide with the farce of meditating.
(Whatever is playing with us…)
They must not interfere with her plan.
Saving those trapped in sleep-like death was no longer optional—it was a race against time. Seventy-two hours. That was all that remained. Once that threshold passed, the suspended souls would cross into true death, beyond the reach of divine techniques or heavenly miracles.
No redemption.
No reversal.
Only silence.
(I will not allow that to happen.)
The wind surged violently, tugging at her robes as the red-veined clouds thickened overhead. Somewhere beyond sight, ancient forces stirred—old grudges awakening, forgotten names whispering their return.
The bad sign whatever it was,had spoken.
And Xing Yue knew that the true calamity had only just begun.
___
The wind moved strangely that night.
It did not howl, nor did it whisper gently. Instead, it drifted in uneven currents, tugging at sleeves and loose strands of hair as though the sky itself were restless. Above them, the red-veined clouds continued to coil and stretch, slow and deliberate, like a giant beast breathing in its sleep. The light they cast was dim and warped, staining the courtyard stones in muted shades of rust and shadow.
Jiang Yunxian leaned back against the stone balustrade, his gaze never leaving the heavens.
"So," he said at last, voice deceptively casual, "about Lady Cangyin… what really happened to her?"
The way he asked it made it seem like idle curiosity, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. The sky gave him every reason to feel unsettled—every reason to want to return to the Beast Realm, drag Rong Qi out by his feather, and make sure he was still breathing. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. And Yunxian had learned long ago to trust that instinct.
Xing Yue, seated nearby, straightened almost imperceptibly.
She was not meditating.
They both knew that.
Her spiritual aura was too alert, too tightly drawn inward. Meditation required surrender. This—this was vigilance.
"Her?" Xing Yue asked, her tone measured, eyes still closed. "Why do you suddenly want to know about her?"
Jiang Yunxian tilted his head slightly, studying the way the red light reflected faintly against her pale features. "In the Chronicles of Heroes, she's listed among the fallen," he replied. "That's a strange place for someone like her, isn't it?"
Her eyes snapped open.
"Chronicles of Heroes?" Xing Yue echoed sharply. "Where did that pile of nonsense come from?"
Jiang Yunxian turned to stare at her as though she had just declared the sun a myth.
"Excuse me, Miss Goddess," he said dryly, "but the books from the Pool of Knowledge are anything but nonsense. You, of all people, should know that—considering you're carrying a scroll that half the heavens would kill for."
He tipped his chin back toward the sky again, watching the clouds pulse.
Xing Yue's fingers curled slightly against her sleeve. "And what," she asked, voice quieter now, "does this so-called chronicle say?"
Yunxian shifted, settling into a more comfortable posture, one leg drawn up, the other dangling lazily over the stone edge.
The posture of a man about to tell a long story—and enjoying it far too much.
"I know that look," he said with a faint grin.
"You're already regretting asking. But fine."
He cleared his throat theatrically.
"The Heroes Chronicles describes Lady Cangyin as a peerless beauty," he began. "Sent to Yanli Continent, specifically to a place called the Spirit Blossom Sect. According to the records, that sect wasn't just a random posting—it was her hometown. Or at least… tied to her bloodline."
At that, Xing Yue turned fully toward him.
Now she was listening.
She had intended to ignore him. Truly. To her, Jiang Yunxian had always been Jiang Yunxian—irreverent, loud, endlessly distracting, unchanged by time or calamity.
But this—
This mattered.
If the chronicles were correct, then the shift in celestial order may not have begun in the heavens at all.
A hundred thousand years ago…
Back then, the world had been structured.
Harsh, yes—but orderly. Laws were obeyed. Roles were clear. The stars followed their paths without resistance.
Until Master Li Shen—drunk, brilliant, and unbearably arrogant—decided that the celestial Way had become impure.
Xing Yue frowned faintly.
She did not remember all of it. She had been elsewhere then, entangled in matters of her own domain, blind to the fractures forming at the foundation of heaven itself. When she returned a hundred thousand years later, the world she knew was gone.
Friends erased.
Names forgotten.
Oaths reduced to dust.
Even she had nearly been unmade—scrubbed from heavenly law, from divine recognition, from existence itself.
That was when she met him again, after millennia of separation.
If she truly wanted answers, then Lady Cangyin's story was unavoidable.
"What do you mean," Xing Yue asked slowly, "that Yanli Continent was Lady Cangyin's hometown?"
Jiang Yunxian shrugged, as though the truth were merely an inconvenience. But of course—he answered anyway. He always did.
"Well," he said, "according to the Chronicles, her life before ascension was… unimpressive. Painfully so. Honestly, it makes you question celestial selection standards."
Xing Yue rolled her eyes.
Of course.
This is exactly like him.
Getting Jiang Yunxian to tell a story properly required patience bordering on enlightenment. Press him too hard, and he'd circle the point for days just to spite you. But somehow, his endless commentary made even tragedy feel strangely alive.
"The mother," he continued, sighing, "died from sickness—or boredom, depending on which version you read. The father? Completely useless."
Xing Yue's gaze sharpened.
"Useless how?"
"A gambling addict. A womanizer. The type that mistakes indulgence for freedom." Yunxian shook his head. "He took a mistress, abandoned his wife and daughter without hesitation, and convinced himself it wasn't his fault."
He paused, letting the weight of it settle.
"Who would've thought," he added softly, "that Lady Cangyin came from a family like that?"
Xing Yue said nothing, but her chest felt strangely tight.
"And then?" she prompted, carefully moderating her tone.
Yunxian smirked. "Easy there. If you rush me, I'll start reciting footnotes."
She shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood.
He chuckled and relented.
"To be honest," he said, "the only reason I read the Heroes Chronicles in the first place was because it was… conveniently available."
Xing Yue narrowed her eyes. "You stole it."
"Borrowed," he corrected. "From the Cloud Peak Sect Leader's desk."
He laughed openly now, recalling the elder's livid expression when the book vanished.
Even better was Rong Qi's horrified silence when he realized he'd been complicit.
Yunxian's smile softened, just slightly.
I miss that idiot, he thought.
Rong Qi—his partner in crime, his reckless companion, his conscience when he bothered to listen.
The sky rumbled faintly overhead.
The story was far from over.
And somewhere between past sins and future calamities, Lady Cangyin's shadow was beginning to stir once more.
___
Xing Yue sighed again—so softly that it barely disturbed the night air, yet it carried the weight of centuries. The wind tugged at her sleeves, threading through the courtyard like an unseen listener that refused to leave.
Above them, the red-veined clouds continued their slow, ominous crawl, as though the sky itself were hesitating, undecided on whether to collapse or merely watch.
Then she spoke.
"No fine wine for you," she said calmly, "if you don't continue your story."
The effect was immediate.
Jiang Yunxian froze. His face went slack, then darkened, then twisted into the unmistakable expression of a man who had just been personally betrayed by the universe.
"You—" He stopped himself, inhaled sharply, then exhaled in defeat. "You celestial beings really are cruel."
He rubbed his temples and sighed, long and dramatic. "Fine. But don't blame me when the story drains all the joy out of this miserable night."
Xing Yue lifted an eyebrow.
"Wine?" she repeated mildly.
He flinched.
Bad lady, he thought resentfully.
"All right, all right." He straightened, his usual lazy posture stiffening as his tone turned quieter, more restrained. "Lady Cangyin returned from an errand one day. No celestial escort. No divine signs. Just her—alone."
The wind seemed to hush, as though leaning closer.
"She walked into her old home and found her mother lying on the cold floor. Dead. No struggle marks. No clear wound. Some say she took her own life." He paused, jaw tightening. "Others believe she was driven to it."
Xing Yue's fingers curled slowly into her sleeve.
"The father," Jiang Yunxian continued, his voice hardening, "didn't cry. Didn't kneel. Didn't even cover the body. He dragged her aside like discarded trash and welcomed his mistress into the house as if nothing had happened. No child with her. Just herself."
He let out a hollow breath.
"From that moment on, Lady Cangyin never again referred to either of them as family."
Xing Yue closed her eyes briefly.
Then Jiang Yunxian went on, slower now, as if choosing each word with care.
"That was when Hong Tian Luo entered the picture. Her half-brother. According to the records, he was no more than four years old. Too young to understand death. Too young to understand why his sister looked at him like a stranger."
The night felt colder.
"At that time," Yunxian said, "Lady Cangyin was already gone. She had left Yanli Continent entirely. No farewell. No explanation."
He fell silent, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the courtyard walls.
After a moment, he spoke again, more thoughtfully. "As for how Lady Cangyin once later ascended…" He hesitated. "The book offers one theory. It claims that Lady Cangyin once gave away the food meant for her—offered it to a starving beggar. That single act altered fate."
He scoffed lightly. "Ridiculous, isn't it? As if ascension were so easily earned."
Xing Yue shook her head slowly.
This is strange. This doesn't go well with her. It could have... But—
It did not sit right with her. The heavens rarely rewarded kindness so simply.
Ascension was never just about a single deed—it was about resonance, alignment, and sacrifice woven through an entire life.
Yet the heavens did not care how one ascended.
Only whether the title fit the soul that bore it.
Her gaze drifted back to the sky.
The red-veined clouds pulsed faintly, as if responding to her thoughts. She felt it then—a tightening in her chest, a warning whispered by instincts older than her divinity.
This isn't right she thought grimly. Whatever that led us out, is waiting. Without them actually knowing what the reason was.
They had escaped the Loop Forest—but not because they were clever.
Because they were allowed to.
And whatever waited beyond it—whatever traps lay between them and the Yanli Continent—was already making its presence known.
This sky was no coincidence.
It was a prelude.