The moment Shan Wei held the two frozen shards in the air, the Ice Phoenix Tomb did something that felt impossible.
It screamed.
Not with sound.
With law.
The whole chamber shook as if the world itself was trying to hold the pieces back in place. Frost light burst out in wild rings. The air turned sharp, and every breath tasted like cold metal.
Above Shan Wei, the verdict stamp flickered like a dying star.
VERDICT: EXECUTE.VERDICT: PENDING.VERDICT: EXECUTE.
It could not decide.
Because the world had reached a fork.
And Shan Wei was holding the proof that could break the lock.
The Ice Phoenix spirit's wings snapped wide.
"Careful," it warned. "If you return it wrong, the lock will bite."
Shan Wei's face stayed calm, but his mind moved fast.
One shard trembled with a familiar pull—Ling Xueyao's thread energy, cold and sharp like moonlight on steel.
The second shard, labeled XUAN, felt different.
It did not feel like sword frost.
It felt like a name trying to survive.
A name that had been grabbed and chained.
Shan Wei's golden eyes narrowed.
"So they stole from her too," he thought. "Not just her crown. Her self."
Behind him, the Bell Throne Keeper's voice turned sharper, losing its calm.
"Put them back," it said.
Shan Wei did not answer.
He stepped forward and placed the shards above the altar, side by side, like two keys waiting for a lock.
Then he raised the Nail Core in his right hand and spoke one simple command.
"Return."
The Nail Core pulsed.
A black-gold rune circle formed under the shards. The circle spun slowly, and the air became heavy like the moment before lightning strikes.
The Ice Phoenix spirit leaned close.
"You will pay," it said softly.
Shan Wei's voice was steady.
"I know."
He pressed his palm to his chest ring and sent prismatic power into the circle—slow, controlled, like pouring water into a cup that might crack.
The circle brightened.
The Xueyao shard lifted slightly.
The tomb resisted.
The walls flashed with bell runes.
The Keeper lifted his hand.
A bell sound rang.
The shard shook violently, as if an invisible chain yanked it back.
Shan Wei's eyes sharpened.
So the Keeper's anchor still held it.
Shan Wei did not panic.
He changed the method.
He drew a second glyph—small, clean, and sharp—right in the air:
A prismatic "ownership stamp."
Not to steal.
To declare what was already true.
He spoke calmly.
"This shard belongs to its rightful thread."
The glyph slammed into the shard like a seal.
The shard flared.
For one breath, the bell runes on the walls flickered like they were shocked.
The Keeper's voice snapped.
"You dare stamp a throne's property?"
Shan Wei's reply was cold.
"Thrones do not own love," he said.
He pushed the ritual again.
The Xueyao shard rose higher.
And then—
The Moon Lock screamed across realms.
Far away, outside the tomb, the sky cracked.
A pale line appeared above the battlefield, like a giant scar in the heavens.
A sound rolled across the world.
Not thunder.
A bell ringing in pain.
Every cultivator within miles felt it.
They froze.
They looked up.
They shivered.
Because something ancient had just been hurt.
In the Refuge Tunnel lane, Xuan Chi suddenly gasped.
Her eyes widened like she just heard someone say her true name from inside her bones.
The Moon Crown shadow above her head shook violently.
For a breath, it lost shape.
Then it tried to slam down again, angry and desperate.
Yuerin grabbed Xuan Chi's wrists and pulled them together, forcing her hands to lock.
"Anchor," Yuerin snapped. "Now!"
Xuan Chi's breathing shook.
"I—" she started.
Yuerin's voice cut in, hard.
"No long words," she said. "Simple. Strong."
Xuan Chi swallowed.
"I am Xuan Chi," she said.
The crown shadow trembled.
Yuerin leaned close.
"What is your choice?" she demanded.
Xuan Chi clenched her jaw.
"I choose myself," she said.
The crown shadow screamed without sound.
A tremor ran through Xuan Chi's whole body.
Behind her, the half-moon domain burst wider than before.
A giant frost moon shadow formed for one heartbeat behind her back.
Not complete.
Not stable.
But real.
The ground beneath her feet froze into a perfect circle, like the start of a new world.
Zhen's eyes glowed.
"NEAR-AWAKENING EVENT," he reported.
Then, blunt:
"POWER IS GROWING."
Drakonix's wing flared as the sky scar above them cracked wider.
He looked up and roared.
His prismatic flame shot higher and struck the Court chain.
This time, he didn't just burn the chain.
He burned a node inside it.
A bright knot of law.
The knot popped like a star dying.
The Court stamp above the battlefield shook.
The Judge voice turned furious.
"INVALID!"
A second voice layered over it—cold, strict, deeper:
"Backup chain path: activate."
The sky twisted.
A new chain formed, thinner but faster, like a hidden blade made of law.
The stamp tried to finalize again.
VERDICT: INSTANT EXECUTION.
Yuerin's eyes narrowed.
"They have a second throat," she muttered.
Zhen slammed his foot down.
"IMPERIAL SHIELD MATRIX," he said.
"REMEMBER WALL: DEPLOY."
A moving wall of formation plates rose and began sliding like a fortress across the lane, sealing off sight lines, blocking the assassins, and forcing the world to "remember" attacks again.
Karma-erase assassins rushed.
One slashed at the wall.
The dagger sparked.
The erase effect bounced.
For one breath, the assassin flickered.
Their outline vanished halfway.
They screamed silently as their own weapon tried to erase their own existence.
Yuerin's eyes stayed cold.
"Good," she said. "Let the sin eat the sinner."
Inside the Conclave nail road portal, the air was moon-silver and thin.
Yuerin stepped through the crack with the Pavilion leader chained to her side, and the world changed.
The corridor was not stone.
It was sound.
A long tunnel made of bell echoes.
Every step made the air ring softly.
And on the walls were words.
Not written.
Floating.
Each word shimmered like a contract waiting to bite.
SAY YES.SAY YOUR NAME.AGREE.ACCEPT.
The Silent Bell monk behind them smiled faintly.
"In here," the monk said, "spoken words become law."
Yuerin's eyes narrowed.
"Then I won't speak," she said.
The monk chuckled.
"You already did," it said softly. "You said 'open.'"
Yuerin's stomach tightened.
A small line of black text appeared in the air in front of her.
CLAUSE CREATED: OPEN PATH.PAYMENT REQUIRED.
Yuerin's eyes turned colder.
The Bell system was trying to trap her using her own command.
The corridor whispered at her, sweet and deadly.
Say your name.Say yes.Agree.
Yuerin did not speak.
She cut.
A shadow blade flickered and sliced the floating clause in half.
But the clause did not die.
It split into two smaller clauses.
OPEN PATH.OPEN HEART.
Yuerin's eyes widened slightly.
"Cheap," she thought. "They twist words."
The monk's voice turned gentle.
"Say one sentence," it offered. "And the path will not hurt you."
Yuerin stared at the monk.
Then she smiled without warmth.
"You want my sentence?" she whispered—barely a breath, almost no sound.
The corridor trembled, trying to catch her words.
Yuerin raised her shadow blade.
And she carved three silent cuts into the air like writing.
Not speech.
A CODE.
A formation-code language.
Prismatic-style.
A trick Shan Wei taught her earlier.
The corridor paused—confused—because it could not turn silent writing into a spoken contract.
Yuerin's eyes narrowed.
"Walk," she signaled with her hand.
The Pavilion leader stumbled as the corridor began to ring harder.
Behind them, the Silent Bell monk's smile faded.
"Interesting," it murmured.
Back inside the Ice Phoenix Tomb, the shard ritual reached a breaking point.
The Xueyao shard glowed brighter and brighter, lifting higher.
The bell runes on the walls flashed violently.
The Keeper stepped forward and slammed his palm down.
A bell shockwave exploded outward.
It hit the ritual circle like a hammer.
The circle cracked.
The Xueyao shard trembled and almost fell.
Shan Wei's eyes flashed cold.
He moved.
He slammed the Nail Core down into the altar like a ruler strike.
The altar shook.
The phoenix spirit roared, frost-fire exploding.
The Nail Core flared and revealed a new line of runes:
THREAD RULE THREE: RETURN REQUIRES SACRIFICE.
Shan Wei felt the pull.
The ritual demanded payment.
Not money.
Not blood.
Something more painful.
It wanted a piece of his future thread.
A slice of fate.
A "shortening" of what could have been.
The Phoenix spirit watched him.
"This is the price," it said. "The Phoenix Price."
Shan Wei's gaze stayed steady.
He did not hesitate long.
Because outside, Xuan Chi was shaking.
Drakonix was burning law.
The Court was trying to finalize.
If Shan Wei waited, everything would collapse.
He accepted the price.
A cold bite cut through his chest.
Not a wound you can see.
A wound you can feel in your destiny.
For one breath, Shan Wei's vision flashed—
A future scene.
A sky full of bells.
A city burning.
A throne made of broken masks.
Then the vision snapped away like a dream ripped from his mind.
Shan Wei's jaw tightened.
But his face stayed calm.
The ritual circle stabilized.
The Xueyao shard shot upward like a comet of frost light.
It tore through the ceiling of the tomb—not breaking stone, breaking distance.
A beam of icy thread energy launched across realms.
Somewhere far away, a hidden thread line trembled.
A bond reacted.
A consort thread screamed like it was waking from a long nightmare.
The Moon Lock cracked again.
The sky scar widened.
The Judge voice shouted.
"STOP!"
The Keeper's voice turned furious.
"You just weakened the lock!" it hissed.
Shan Wei's eyes turned colder.
"And now I know you can bleed," he said.
He lifted the second shard—the one labeled XUAN.
It trembled harder than the first.
Because it wasn't just a stolen piece.
It felt like a stolen name.
The Keeper's mask tilted.
"Do not touch that one," it warned.
Shan Wei's eyes narrowed.
"Why?" he asked.
The Keeper's voice went quiet.
Too quiet.
"Because that shard," it said, "is the handle to her crown."
Shan Wei understood instantly.
That shard was the reason the Moon Crown kept dropping.
It was the stolen piece that let the Monastery "grab" Xuan Chi's identity.
Shan Wei lifted it anyway.
The tomb shook violently.
The bell shadow behind the Keeper surged.
The Court stamp above Shan Wei flickered and turned sharp.
VERDICT: INSTANT EXECUTION.
The backup chain path stabbed down from the sky like a spear of judgment.
Outside, Drakonix roared and flared his wing fully for one breath.
His flame struck the backup chain—
—but it did not burn like before.
Because the backup chain was thinner, faster, and colder.
Drakonix's flame wavered.
He coughed a small burst of prismatic fire and shook.
Zhen stepped forward, fortress stance tightening.
"DEFEND DRAKONIX," he said, voice heavy.
But the spear of judgment was still coming.
Inside the tomb, Shan Wei did not look up.
He looked at the shard.
And he spoke one calm command.
"Return her name."
The shard exploded with moon-frost light.
The Keeper screamed.
"NO!"
And in the same moment—
The Keeper ripped off its mask.
The mask fell and shattered on the floor.
Under it was not a human face.
It was a puppet-face.
Gold-black metal.
Expressionless.
Engraved with Silent Bell runes.
A living construct.
A throne puppet.
The Bell Throne Keeper's voice came out colder than ever.
"I am not a monk," it said. "I am the Keeper."
Shan Wei's eyes sharpened like a drawn blade.
The tomb shook.
The Court spear stabbed down.
The XUAN shard flared like a moon exploding.
And the world held its breath—
because the Moon Lock was starting to break… and something much worse was about to wake with it.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
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