The Ice Phoenix Tomb answered Shan Wei's command.
Not with words.
With movement.
The frozen walls lit up in thin lines, like veins of moonlight waking under ice. The carvings of phoenix feathers on the ceiling began to glow one by one, and each feather line pointed deeper, like arrows made from old law.
The black-gold Nail Core in Shan Wei's hand pulsed.
A new line of runes formed in the air, clear and cruel:
TRACE CONFIRMED.BELL THRONE KEEPER ANCHOR: WITHIN TOMB.DISTANCE: NEAR.
Shan Wei's golden eyes narrowed.
So the enemy was not "somewhere far above."
The hand that pinned the nails was here.
In this tomb.
In the same place where Ling Xueyao's thread shard was trapped.
The Ice Phoenix spirit hovered close, frost-fire wings tight like a ready blade.
"I warned you," it said. "The Monastery never leaves a tomb clean."
Shan Wei's voice stayed calm.
"Show me," he said.
The Nail Core reacted again.
A thin black-gold line—like a thread made of metal—shot from the core and stretched across the chamber. It did not point to the altar. It pointed behind it, to a section of wall that looked normal… too normal.
Shan Wei stepped toward that wall.
The moment his foot crossed a certain line on the floor, the tomb snapped.
A formation activated.
Not a loud explosion.
A silent lock.
The air became heavier, like the world itself pressed a hand down to hold him still.
A pale bell mark flashed on the wall.
Then a voice spoke—smooth, calm, and dead inside.
"You are early," the voice said.
The wall split open like a curtain of ice, revealing a hidden chamber.
And in that chamber stood a monk.
Not a normal Silent Bell monk.
This one wore a crown.
Not a gold crown.
A moon-silver bell crown made of tiny linked rings. Each ring had runes carved into it. Each rune looked like a command.
His face was covered by a smooth mask with a single vertical line down the center, like a bell cut in half.
Behind him floated a huge bell-shaped shadow, faint but real, like a second body made of law.
The Ice Phoenix spirit's wings flared in anger.
"The Keeper," it hissed.
The monk tilted his head slightly, like he was greeting a visitor.
"Qi Shan Wei," the monk said calmly. "Returning Prism Emperor."
Shan Wei did not react like a shocked boy.
He did not shout.
He did not step back.
His eyes sharpened, and his voice stayed even.
"Bell Throne Keeper," he replied.
The monk's mask line curved slightly, almost like a smile.
"You found the anchor," the monk said. "That means you are learning."
Shan Wei's gaze moved to the monk's chest.
There—under the robe—was a faint glow like frozen moonlight.
A nail root.
A core.
A hidden engine.
The Bell Throne Keeper had buried his control seed inside the Ice Phoenix Tomb, using it like a safe house for fate theft.
Shan Wei's hand tightened around the Nail Core.
The Nail Core pulsed harder.
A new rune line appeared:
ROOT LINK DETECTED.LOCK TYPE: MOON CROWN.FUEL: CONSORT SHARD.
Shan Wei's eyes turned colder.
"Your Moon Crown," he said quietly, "is built from what you stole."
The Keeper's voice stayed calm, like talking about weather.
"Stolen?" he said. "No. Reassigned. The Court needs order."
Shan Wei's tone did not change.
"Order built on theft is a lie," he said.
The Keeper lifted one hand.
The air rang.
Not a loud bell.
A tiny sound like glass tapping metal.
And suddenly the world outside the tomb pressed in.
A pale stamp formed above Shan Wei's head again.
VERDICT: FINALIZING.
The Judge voice echoed through reality, distant and cold.
"Execution vote: final step."
The tomb shook.
The Phoenix spirit flared, furious.
"The Court is using your anchor to pull the verdict into place!" it shouted.
Shan Wei understood instantly.
The Keeper was acting like a hook.
The Court's law chain was using his anchor point to "reach" Shan Wei even through the tomb.
The Keeper lowered his hand.
"If you die," he said simply, "the threads stop pulling. The Moon Lock stabilizes. The world remains quiet."
Shan Wei's gaze did not blink.
"Then you will not get quiet," he replied.
He moved first.
A small step.
A simple step.
But the ground cracked under his foot from pressure.
Shan Wei drew a prismatic line in the air and slammed it down like a ruler strike.
The chamber split with a wave of prismatic force.
The Keeper did not dodge like a frightened man.
He lifted two fingers.
A bell-shadow wall formed.
Shan Wei's wave hit it—
—and the wave did not explode.
It vanished.
Erased like a sentence removed from a book.
Shan Wei's eyes narrowed.
"Erase law," he thought.
The Keeper spoke calmly.
"Your power is loud," he said. "Mine is final."
He flicked his fingers.
A bell sound rang again.
And the air around Shan Wei's arm tightened like invisible rope.
A thin band of moon-silver appeared, wrapping Shan Wei's wrist.
A bell cuff.
The Nail Core in Shan Wei's hand vibrated like it was angry.
Shan Wei's eyes turned sharp.
He used Fate Severance again.
This time, he aimed at the cuff's claim.
The prismatic line flashed.
The bell cuff cracked—
—but did not break.
The Keeper's voice stayed calm.
"You can cut threads," he said. "But can you cut a throne?"
Shan Wei's mind moved fast.
He could feel it: the Keeper was not only using a formation.
He was using a position.
A role in the world-system.
A throne role.
A role allowed to write "final" rules.
Shan Wei's gaze flicked to the crystal sphere above the altar again.
The thread shard inside it trembled harder now, like it was reacting to the Keeper's presence.
Shan Wei realized something sharp and dangerous.
The sphere was not just storage.
It was bait.
If he touched it wrong, the Keeper could use the shard to snap a lock around his soul.
The Phoenix spirit hissed, reading the danger.
"Don't touch it yet," it warned. "He's waiting."
Shan Wei did not answer.
He breathed once, slow and controlled.
Then he did something unexpected.
He lifted the Nail Core and pressed it against the bell cuff on his wrist.
The Keeper's mask line tilted.
"What are you doing?" the Keeper asked.
Shan Wei's voice stayed calm.
"I'm using your chain," he said.
The Nail Core pulsed, and a black-gold rune lit up:
THREAD RULE TWO: A LOCK CAN BE OPENED FROM INSIDE IF THE CARRIER ACCEPTS A TEMPORARY BURDEN.
Shan Wei's eyes turned colder.
He accepted the burden.
For one breath, Shan Wei let the bell cuff tighten.
He let the "Moon Crown pressure" touch his meridians.
It was heavy.
It was wrong.
It tried to rewrite his flow.
But Shan Wei's prismatic heart ring held.
Then Shan Wei pushed the burden back—through the Nail Core.
A black-gold pulse shot out of his wrist and surged into the floor.
The tomb shook.
The hidden anchor chamber flickered.
The Keeper's calm voice finally sharpened.
"No," he said.
The black-gold pulse did not strike the Keeper's body.
It struck the anchor line under his feet.
A thin rune circle on the ground flashed—then cracked like frozen glass.
The Keeper's bell-shadow behind him trembled.
The Court stamp above Shan Wei flickered, losing stability for a breath.
The Judge voice stuttered slightly, like it did not expect resistance.
"Verdict… pending…"
Shan Wei did not waste that breath.
He stepped forward again, and this time his prismatic ruler strike came with a second layer.
A formation inside the strike.
A prismatic "memory pin" formation.
Not to steal memory.
To force the world to remember what the Keeper tried to erase.
Shan Wei's strike hit the bell-shadow wall.
The wall shook.
It did not vanish this time.
It cracked.
The Keeper's voice turned colder.
"You're learning too fast," he said.
Shan Wei's eyes stayed steady.
"I always do," he replied.
Outside, the Refuge Tunnel lane shook as Drakonix's flame hit the Court chain again.
The chain burned deeper now, a chunk melting away mid-air like a rope on fire.
The verdict stamp tried to finalize again.
But the chain's root was weakening.
Drakonix's single prismatic wing flared wide.
His roar shook the battlefield.
And for the first time, the Judge voice paused—not from fear, but from shock.
"The beast… is burning law."
Zhen's eyes glowed brighter.
"OBSERVATION," he said, very serious.
"LAW IS FLAMMABLE."
Yuerin didn't laugh. Her face stayed hard.
"Keep burning," she whispered to Drakonix.
Xuan Chi shook again, the Moon Crown shadow dropping toward her head.
It whispered:
Moon-Masked Girl.
Xuan Chi clenched her fists.
Yuerin grabbed her shoulders.
"Say it," Yuerin ordered. "Say what you are."
Xuan Chi's voice trembled, then grew stronger.
"I am Xuan Chi," she said. "I am not a mask."
The Moon Crown shadow flickered.
A tremor ran through Xuan Chi's body, like a sleeping power shifting.
Behind her, her half-moon domain pulsed and left a new frost scar on the ground.
It was deeper than before.
It looked like frozen law.
Yuerin's eyes widened slightly.
"She's near-awakening," she thought.
But there was no time to slow down.
Because a new wave of karma-erase assassins rushed the lane again.
Zhen slammed his foot down.
"COUNTER FORMATION: REMEMBER," he said.
A ring formation lit up.
The assassins stepped into it—
—and their daggers sparked.
This time, the "erase" did not delete the shield gate.
Instead, the dagger's erase effect bounced back.
For one breath, the dagger tried to erase its own owner.
One assassin screamed silently as their outline flickered.
Yuerin's eyes sharpened.
"Good," she muttered. "Make their sin eat them."
Zhen nodded once.
"REMEMBER IS STRONG," he said.
Then, blunt:
"ERASE IS STUPID."
Back inside the Conclave vault corridor, Yuerin faced the Silent Bell monk guarding the gold door.
The monk smiled faintly.
"Our Court is voting," the monk said. "You cannot stop it."
Yuerin's eyes were cold.
"Watch me," she said.
She flicked her hand.
A shadow mask formed behind her like a ghost crown.
Not a joke.
Not a costume.
A weapon.
The monk lifted a bell charm.
Yuerin moved first and grabbed the Pavilion leader by the collar.
"Open it," she ordered, voice sharp.
The Pavilion leader's mask tilted, fear slipping through.
"That door is a nail road," they whispered. "If we open it, the Bell system will—"
Yuerin yanked the chain.
"Open," she repeated.
The leader raised their hand and touched the gold door.
The door rang like a bell.
The runes flared.
A thin crack opened in the air, like a tunnel leading into pure moon-silver darkness.
And from inside that crack came a voice.
Not a monk.
Not a judge.
Something older.
A whisper that sounded like a throne breathing.
"Bring me… the Returning Prism."
Yuerin's eyes narrowed.
So the Keeper wasn't alone.
In the Ice Phoenix Tomb, Shan Wei felt the tomb tremble again as his strike cracked the bell-shadow wall.
The Keeper stepped back one half-step.
It was small.
But it was real.
Shan Wei's gaze sharpened.
The Keeper lifted his hand, and the air rang with a louder bell sound.
A wave of "final" law surged toward Shan Wei's chest, trying to press the verdict stamp into his soul.
Shan Wei's prismatic ring held.
But the pressure was growing.
The phoenix spirit hissed.
"He's trying to finalize you from inside!" it warned.
Shan Wei's eyes did not blink.
He did not retreat.
He reached toward the crystal sphere.
The Phoenix spirit shouted.
"Don't—!"
Shan Wei's fingers touched the sphere.
The sphere cracked.
And the frost light inside exploded outward like shattered moon glass.
The stolen thread shard floated free—trembling, bright, alive.
But behind it…
A second shard was revealed.
Frozen deeper.
Labeled with a single rune word carved into the ice:
XUAN.
Shan Wei's eyes narrowed sharply.
A shard tied to Xuan Chi.
A piece of her identity.
A piece of her thread.
Proof that the Monastery didn't only use Xueyao's bond.
They stole from Xuan Chi too.
The Keeper's calm voice finally broke into anger.
"You touched it," he hissed.
Shan Wei's voice stayed calm, but colder than ice.
"Now I know," he said.
The Nail Core pulsed in his palm.
The Court stamp above him flickered again.
The Judge voice tried to speak—
—but Drakonix's flame burned the chain root at the same moment.
The verdict stamp shook.
The world held its breath.
And Shan Wei raised the stolen shards—one labeled by fate, one labeled by name—like he was holding the proof that could destroy a throne.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.