The Blood Moon Sect didn't sleep that night.
Qi still trembled in the air long after Lin Qing's "breathing lesson." Disciples sat cross-legged on rooftops, copying the Heir's rhythm until dawn. Clouds hung low and red above the peaks, lightning pulsing like a heartbeat.
Inside his quarters, Lin Qing snored once, then stopped.
The air had turned thick again—too thick. Threads of crimson light drifted around him, drawn from every corner of the sect. His robe lifted off the bed, fluttering as if caught in a slow current.
"…Not again."
He sat up, focusing on suppressing his breath, but qi refused to settle. The more he pushed it down, the more it pushed back. The entire mountain began to hum.
A rumble shook the floor. From deep below came an echo, heavy and old—like the mountain was waking up.
Torches outside flared white.
Across the sect, formation pillars answered the call, crimson veins lighting up one after another until a giant sigil blazed beneath the peaks.
Lin Qing stared at the glowing floor. "Please tell me that's normal."
It wasn't.
---
Elder Hei was the first to arrive. He burst into the courtyard with a dozen elders trailing behind, robes snapping in the wind. Even through his bone mask, the shock was visible.
"The Blood Moon Divine Platform…" he whispered. "It responds."
A column of scarlet light rose from the main altar, shooting into the clouds. Every disciple within miles dropped to one knee.
Lin Qing stepped outside, hair still messy, eyes half-closed. He squinted at the spectacle. "Did I break something?"
Elder Hei went down on one knee immediately. "The Heir has awakened the Heart of the Sect."
"That's… nice," Lin Qing said. "How do I turn it off?"
The elder bowed deeper. "It cannot be turned off. It recognizes your bloodline."
Perfect.
He sighed, trying again to compress the qi flooding from his body. The red light dimmed, then pulsed brighter, resonating with his heartbeat. Thunder rolled across the valley.
Another figure appeared at the edge of the courtyard. Saintess Yao, veil shimmering faintly in the light, hands folded behind her back.
She didn't speak. Her gaze lingered on Lin Qing for a long moment—calm, calculating—then shifted to the mountain itself. The air bent around her as the divine platform's glow reflected in her eyes.
Elder Hei rose. "The Sect's heart accepts him. This is a sign unseen for a thousand years."
Saintess Yao's voice was quiet. "He doesn't even realize what he touched."
Then she turned and left.
The pressure eased at last. Lin Qing forced a deep breath and pulled the qi inward. The light across the mountain dimmed to a steady pulse, like a candle after a storm.
Disciples cheered. Drums sounded somewhere below.
Elder Hei approached, still reverent. "The Heir's divine will restored the Platform. From this day forth, we shall honor this night as the Day of Crimson Dawn."
Lin Qing blinked. "I just wanted to sleep."
"The Sect will never forget this mercy."
"Great. Glad everyone's happy."
---
By morning, the story had already changed three times.
Some said the Heir had reforged the Blood Moon Heart with a single breath. Others swore the moon itself had bowed toward him. Outer disciples carried water jars up the mountain, convinced every drop that touched the Heir's courtyard would become spirit liquid.
Lin Qing stepped outside and nearly tripped over the offerings.
Li Chun was already there, kneeling among piles of incense and fruit. "Heir Lin Qing! They brought tributes from every hall! You—uh—radiated divinity again last night."
"Fantastic," Lin Qing muttered. He looked at the sky; it was still red at the edges. "Remind me never to breathe in this place."
"The Elders say you must visit the Scripture Hall today," Li Chun said quickly. "They believe the Platform's awakening means Heaven approves your next step."
Lin Qing rubbed his temple. "Let me guess. Homework."
"The Heir's choice of martial arts will define the next era!"
"Even better."
He walked down the mountain with Li Chun trailing behind. Disciples bowed at every corner. Some whispered prayers. Others held up scrolls hoping for a blessing.
Everywhere he passed, qi gathered instinctively, forming faint ripples that refused to leave him alone.
When they reached the upper terrace, the old crimson doors of the Scripture Hall were already open. Elder Hei had clearly prepared it overnight. The air smelled of sandalwood and ink.
Lin Qing sighed. "Back again."
Li Chun straightened his sleeves nervously. "The Elders said the Heir should now choose supporting arts—movement, defense, combat. The Mirror Scripture alone cannot display the Heir's full brilliance."
"Of course it can't," Lin Qing muttered, walking in.
Inside, the familiar shelves shimmered under spirit-light. Last time the place had felt silent; now every jade slip hummed faintly, reacting to him. A ripple spread through the runes, like the hall itself was watching.
He stopped beside the central dais. "Alright, old library, I'm just browsing."
The humming softened, as if in approval.
Li Chun swallowed hard. "Even the hall recognizes you…"
"Or it's hungry," Lin Qing said. "Let's find something before it starts chewing."
That night, the Blood Moon Sect finally slept again.