CHAPTER 31 — The Ancestor Opens His Eyes
The first thing Zheng noticed was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that comes when an entire mountain is holding its breath.
Even the insects outside the pavilion had stopped.
Lian stood near the doorway, her posture unchanged, but her fingers rested lightly on the hilt of her sword.
Zheng wiped his face.
His cheeks were still wet.
He hated that.
He hated that the breakthrough had come through something so ugly.
So human.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Measured.
Not rushed like a disciple.
Not heavy like an elder.
Each step carried the patience of something that had lived too long to hurry.
The pavilion doors did not open.
They simply… parted.
As if the air itself made room.
A man entered.
No—calling him a man felt incorrect.
He looked ordinary at first glance: white robes, hair bound simply, hands tucked behind his back.
But Zheng's newly condensed qi reacted like a frightened animal.
The pressure was not crushing.
It was worse.
It was indifferent.
Like standing beneath the ocean, realizing the sea does not notice you.
Lian bowed immediately.
"Ancestor."
Zheng hesitated, then followed clumsily.
The Ancestor's gaze settled on him.
Not sharp.
Not cruel.
Just old.
Ancient.
As though Zheng was a page in a book he had already read once, long ago.
"So," the Ancestor said.
His voice was quiet enough that it should not have carried.
Yet every corner of the pavilion heard it.
"The mortal with the mark finally breathes."
Zheng's throat tightened.
"I…"
The Ancestor lifted a hand.
"Do not speak yet."
He stepped closer.
Zheng could smell incense on his robes—something burned for a hundred years.
The Ancestor's eyes lowered.
To Zheng's chest.
To the faint lotus glow beneath skin.
"The Heart Severing Scripture," he murmured.
"A punishment disguised as a path."
Lian's jaw tightened.
"Ancestor… he survived the first trial."
The Ancestor's lips curved faintly.
"Survived?"
His gaze returned to Zheng's face.
"You misunderstand, little one."
"This scripture does not test survival."
"It tests what a man becomes… after."
Zheng swallowed.
"…After what?"
The Ancestor leaned closer.
And for the first time, Zheng felt it.
Not qi.
Not pressure.
Something else.
Recognition.
The Ancestor whispered:
"Tell me, Zheng Wen Te…"
"…how many lives have you already ruined without knowing?"
Zheng's blood went cold.
Outside—
The sect bell rang once.
Deep.
Warning.
And somewhere far above the clouds…
something listened.