"Not good!"
The joy on Feng Yang's face vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer horror. He jerked his head down and pressed hard against the Fuxi Compass at his waist, which was trembling violently and buzzing like a swarm of angry bees.
On the compass's surface, the black-and-white twin-fish pattern that symbolized yin and yang spun at an impossible speed—so fast its shape was nothing but a blur, as though it might break free from the confines of the disk at any moment!
At the same time, the trigram representing the Zhen direction burst into sparks of scorching fire, stinging Feng Yang's palm.
"Senior Brother! The Ziwei Constellation… the Imperial Star—it's moving!"
Both men froze. Their hearts tightened as they lifted their gazes toward the heavens.
The Huaxia Imperial Star—newly rekindled, blazing with a light that spanned the sky—seemed suddenly endowed with will and life. Slowly but surely, it began to draw along the seven stars of the Big Dipper that circled it, shifting them together, steadily, toward the east.
At that same moment, in a region of the star map long dormant and forgotten—the dim Taiwei Constellation—three ominous, blood-red stars suddenly flared to life without warning.
Those three stars glowed dully yet radiated an aura of malevolence. Faintly, their alignment formed the image of a three-legged crow, wings spread wide as if about to take flight.
A wave of suffocating bloodlust and death rolled out from them, thick enough to make one's stomach churn. Like vultures scenting blood, the three blood-stars lunged viciously toward the moving Imperial Star!
"Hmph!"
A flash of cold steel lit Feng Yu's eyes. From the depths of his still frame, a killing intent that had lain dormant for countless years erupted like a long-frozen volcano.
"Filthy remnants of the Yin-Yang Bureau!"
"Three-Legged Golden Crow shikigami! You dare to wield your island nation's heretical blood-sacrifice sorcery to stir the stars themselves and lay the ancient killing array of Mars Guarding the Heart?!"
"Quick hands… cruel hearts… but delusional!"
"I defy you!"
Feng Yang's beard bristled as his face contorted with fury. He tore from his neck a string of Five Emperor Coins—ancient copper coins he had worn for decades, long soaked in sweat and spiritual essence—and flung them high into the air!
The five coins spun once, then froze midair, each shedding a faint glow. They linked together of their own accord, forming an intricate, mysterious innate Eight-Trigram formation, enclosing the two of them in its center.
"Senior Brother, aid me! Their power is great, and our southern alignment stands empty—we must borrow the might of the Vermilion Bird of the South!"
He began chanting rapidly, invoking the southern constellations.
But before he could finish—
The "Well" star of the southern seven mansions flickered once and went dark.
"Puh!"
Feng Yu's eyes hardened. Without a moment's hesitation, he raised his right hand and bit deep into his index finger.
Bright red blood welled forth.
Using his finger as brush and his blood as ink, he traced a swift, complex sigil of power upon the vast celestial map covering the dome above, distance meaning nothing to his will.
The blood took on a life of its own, transforming into a glowing crimson thread that shot upward like lightning, sinking directly into the "Ziwei Enclosure"—the imperial region of the heavens.
Woom—!
The instant his blood merged with the star map, a deep, thunderous roar echoed from the foundations of the Astronomical Bureau itself—no, from the very earth beneath it.
It was… a dragon's roar.
A true dragon's roar.
At that same moment, the nine colossal bronze tripods standing in the Bureau's grand courtyard—symbols of Huaxia's nine provinces and anchors of its national destiny—began to resonate in unison.
Wom… wom… wom…
The ancient carvings etched upon their bodies—depictions of mountains, rivers, sun, moon, and stars—flared to life, their faint lines now shining with flowing golden light.
"It comes!"
Feng Yu's eyes blazed like twin suns. In their depths, the very stars seemed to turn. His aura surged, hair and robes lifting though no wind blew.
Above them, on the celestial dome, the Huaxia Imperial Star exploded in brilliance.
From the boundless surge of auspicious clouds and radiant light, a massive, majestic phantom of a five-clawed golden dragon burst forth—so real, its scales gleamed individually beneath the glow.
Its sinuous body coiled across the sky.
With a single sweep of its tail—vast enough to shatter heaven itself—it struck out at the three murderous blood-stars.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three sharp cracks rang out, like shattering glass.
Those blood stars—born from the Yin-Yang Bureau's forbidden rites, forged from lifetimes of sacrifice and countless spirits—burst apart without even a scream.
They disintegrated into dust, scattering like faded petals across the sky before vanishing entirely.
Feng Yang stood trembling, eyes wide with awe, watching as the golden dragon coiled protectively around the Imperial Star—its head held high, its gaze dominating all creation, radiating an aura that commanded the heavens themselves.
"Senior Brother! We… we did it! We held the line!"
Feng Yu nodded slowly. The lethal light in his eyes softened into something vast and resolute.
He turned, looking at his brother—still caught between joy and fear.
"Junior Brother," he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of storms survived, "Heaven's design is clear once more. From the depths of ruin, renewal arises."
"The Hidden Dragon has left the abyss—it will now stir the clouds and soar the nine heavens."
The ecstasy on Feng Yang's face began to settle. He gazed into his brother's eyes, sensing the far-reaching vision behind them.
"You mean to say…?"
Feng Yu lifted his chin slightly, eyes once again on the resplendent Imperial Star that now shone with the power to command the cosmos. His lips curved faintly, meaningfully.
"Send word to all lineages."
His tone was not loud, but each syllable rang through the vast chamber like the strike of iron and stone.
"Summon the Strategist of the Yellow Emperor's line—to enter the mortal world."
"Summon the General Star of the Flame Emperor's line—to take his post."
"Summon the Marshal Star of Chiyou's line—to reveal himself."
"It is time they take command of this game—a game that will decide Huaxia's survival."
"The future of this land will be forged by its finest sons and daughters—with their wisdom, courage, and blood."
A fierce light filled Feng Yang's eyes, a fire igniting in his chest.
He hesitated no longer. Straightening his slightly stooped back, he turned and strode from the Hall of Celestial Secrets, each step firm, resolute, unstoppable.
Behind him, the star map above shifted once more.
The dazzling Imperial Star suddenly contracted, then split apart!
Fourteen streams of radiant light burst forth, each of a different hue and aura, streaking across the heavens like divine maidens scattering blossoms—each leaving a long, flaming trail as they fell toward the vast land of Huaxia.
One beam, fiery and bright as molten gold, descended precisely upon a small village by the Xiang River—a place called Shaoshan Chong. Where it struck, a colossal crimson phoenix rose into the sky, its radiance staining half the heavens red.
Another beam, twined with black-and-white energies, sank silently into the snow-clad mountains of western Sichuan. For an instant, a massive Taiji symbol shimmered across the land before vanishing without trace.
At the edges of the celestial map, regions once blurred by the fracturing of the nation's fortune began to clear once more.
Above Taiwan—the isolated island long severed from the mainland—the faint golden light of a dormant dragon vein stirred deep beneath Sun-Moon Lake, as though drawn by some invisible force toward the mainland's Wuyi Mountains.
The dragon vein, severed for decades, now showed signs of reconnection—of wholeness reborn.
The land trembled; the air itself seemed to change.
Across China, countless ordinary people—though they knew not why—felt a strange stirring in their hearts. A long-suppressed weight lifted, replaced by something new: the promise of renewal, of spring after an endless winter, of a coming transformation.
They poured into the streets, spreading the news with tears and laughter, celebrating this miraculous dawn after catastrophe.
In their joy and hope, they soon forgot that long, dark night—the night when a mysterious meteor had split the heavens and heralded salvation.
But some never forgot.
Across the sea, in that defeated yet unrepentant island nation, the surviving practitioners of the Yin-Yang Bureau brooded in shadow.
They obsessed over their loss, gnashing their teeth in hatred—for they remembered well that single, blazing meteor which had shattered their long-prepared "Mainland Conquest" ritual, crushing their dream of subjugating Huaxia and ruling East Asia.
The shame of defeat festered like venom.
Spies and agents—trained from birth and scattered like mercury—began slipping back into the reborn land of Huaxia under countless disguises and names.
Their mission: to seek the fallen meteor.
They were convinced that it was no ordinary stone—that it held the power to change fate itself, perhaps even to overturn Heaven's will.
Yet no matter how deep they dug, no matter how wide they searched, they found nothing.
The meteor that had once illuminated the world had vanished—utterly, without a trace.
They would never know that, on that very night when the dragon's roar shook the earth and the heavens burned with light, Feng Yu and Feng Yang had already departed the capital in secret—guided by the faintest hint left by the fading star map.
Deep within China's heartland, in a desolate wilderness unmarked on any map, they found it—
A meteorite no larger than a small table, black as ink, its surface etched with strange, living patterns like veins of some unknown creature. It drank in light itself, cold to the touch, ordinary in shape yet unspeakably strange.
And thus, the two men—guardians of the Fuxi line—sealed away this stone of mystery, this vessel of infinite destiny. Using secret rites passed down through their bloodline, they erased all trace of its existence and carried it back to their clan's hidden sanctuary—an ancient holy ground untouched by the world, unseen by mortal eyes.