Silence ruled the clearing.
Not the calm silence of nature—but the oppressive kind, heavy and suffocating, as though the forest itself had stopped breathing.
The five figures stood rooted to the ground, their bodies tense, their spirits trembling.
Then—
A voice, hesitant and strained, broke the stillness.
"G-Great Elder… we did not know you would be present here."
The words came slowly, carefully measured, yet they trembled despite the speaker's best efforts to suppress it.
It was Yuan Li.
Fear clung to his words like frost.
"If we had known… we would never have dared to step into a place chosen by you."
Every syllable tasted of fear.
His back was already soaked in cold sweat.
Before him stood Shen Rui.
Sword Supreme of the Eternal Sword Sect.
A single glance from that man felt heavier than a mountain.
Beside Yuan Li, Ji Han stepped forward. His expression was calm on the surface, but his heart thundered violently within his chest.
"Great Elder."
He cupped his fists in a formal salute.
Then, without hesitation, he reached into empty air.
Space rippled.
The air distorted as though pierced by an invisible needle, revealing a faintly glowing spatial storage.
From within it, Ji Han withdrew a jade vial, its surface engraved with ancient runes. A dense, refined
spiritual aura leaked out the moment it appeared.
Only top disciples of major sects were granted the right—and the trust—to possess spatial artifacts.
"This," Ji Han said evenly, though his throat was dry, "is what we obtained here. The treasure that everyone heard rumours of."
Almost immediately, Yuan Li followed suit. Space shimmered once more as he produced his own elixir.
Then Su Mei, General Xu, and Feng Lei did the same.
Five treasures hovered in the air.
The spiritual aura they emitted was dense, refined—far beyond ordinary pills.
For a brief, fragile moment—
Hope flickered.
Then Yuan Li's thoughts darkened.
It would be foolish… to hide anything.
He knew it.
All of them did.
At this level, he thought grimly, even breathing too heavily can disturb qi.
With Shen Rui's cultivation, he could detect fluctuations in spiritual energy from kilometers away. A concealed treasure? A hidden secret?
Even the slightest fluctuation of qi cannot escape his perception…
Impossible.
Yuan Li clenched his fists.
But the ancient writing…
The memory of those strange symbols—etched not onto paper, but burned directly into their souls—sent a shiver through him.
If he asks about that…
Fear crawled into his bones.
Unbeknownst to him, the same dread echoed in the minds of the others.
Ji Han's fingers twitched unconsciously.
Su Mei's eyes flickered with unease beneath her composed exterior.
General Xu's breathing slowed deliberately, suppressing panic through discipline alone.
Feng Lei's jaw tightened, anger and fear colliding violently in his chest.
Above them—
Shen Rui, Sword Supreme of the Eternal Sword Sect, gazed down.
Qi flowed faintly within his pupils, like rivers restrained behind divine gates. His presence alone bent the surrounding spiritual currents toward him.
"Hm…"
He extended a finger slightly, examining the treasures without touching them.
"They are indeed…" he paused, "…extraordinary."
The word struck them like thunder.
Extraordinary.
Such praise from a Sword Supreme should have been an honour.
Instead, it felt like a death sentence.
Sweat rolled down Ji Han's spine.
Yuan Li felt his heartbeat echo in his ears.
Su Mei's palms were slick with moisture.
Even General Xu—who had faced battlefields soaked in blood—felt his heart pounding violently.
Then—
"But," Shen Rui continued calmly, "this is not it."
The air froze.
The five disciples felt as if invisible hands had seized their throats.
Their pupils shrank.
Their breathing halted.
Shen Rui's gaze sharpened.
"Are you certain," he asked slowly, each word weighed with terrifying authority, "that there was nothing else?"
As he spoke—
The qi surrounding his sword stirred.
Not violently.
Not explosively.
It simply rose.
Invisible pressure descended, wrapping around the five cultivators like a tightening cage. Their spiritual senses screamed in warning as the air itself seemed to solidify.
This… Yuan Li thought in horror, this isn't killing intent yet.
It was worse.
Feng Lei took a half-step forward, instinctively opening his mouth to speak—
Too late.
The land collapsed.
BOOM—
A crushing force slammed down from above.
The ground beneath them exploded outward as if struck by an invisible hammer. Soil and shattered stone erupted violently as all five were driven straight into the earth.
Their heads burst through the surface.
Blood sprayed from their mouths in thick, violent arcs.
Bones creaked.
Organs trembled.
Spiritual defences shattered like glass.
This was no attack.
This was merely qi suppression.
A fraction.
A minute fraction—
Of a Sword Supreme's power.
And yet it was already far beyond what they could endure.
Yuan Li felt his vision blur as blood flooded his mouth.
Ji Han's meridians screamed as though being torn apart.
Su Mei bit down hard enough to draw blood, forcing herself not to scream.
General Xu's knees buckled despite his iron will.
Feng Lei nearly blacked out.
Shen Rui's eyes glittered faintly, anger restrained behind cold composure.
"I despise repeating myself," he said calmly.
The words were quiet.
Too quiet.
Fear gnawed at them like poison.
One step closer… Yuan Li thought desperately, and we die.
Shen Rui's sword shifted ever so slightly.
A single breath.
That was all that separated them from annihilation.
Then—
A voice cut through the crushing pressure like a blade through silk.
"It's been a while."
The words carried pure bloodlust, sharp enough to make the air tremble.
Shen Rui did not flinch.
He turned his head.
Standing at the edge of the clearing was a man cloaked in pure-white qi. Moonlight seemed to cling unnaturally to his form, reflecting faintly off his calm, expressionless face.
Dao Tian, The Silver Moon.
One of the Five Elders of the Dao Immortal Sect.
Cultivation: ???
Shen Rui's brows knit slightly.
"Elder Tian."
The moment their gazes met—
The world screamed.
Qi erupted violently as their spiritual pressures collided head-on.
This was not a clash of swords.
This was a clash of souls.
Invisible waves smashed into each other, distorting space and tearing apart the spiritual balance of
the forest. Trees bent violently, roots cracking as the ground split beneath the overwhelming
pressure.
This was a Spiritual confrontation.
At this level, defeat meant more than death.
It meant the collapse of cultivation.
If one were to lose here, their cultivation could collapse, their Spiritual Seed—the very foundation separating mortals from cultivators—could be damaged or destroyed.
The air roared.
A typhoon of qi spiraled outward, ripping leaves from branches, carving scars into the earth. The sky itself seemed to darken as if unwilling to witness what followed.
Shen Rui's eyes shone like sharpened stars.
Dao Tian's gaze was cold, silver light swirling within it like a silent moon.
Each containing oceans of condensed power.
Neither yielded.
Then—
"Great Elder."
A youthful voice cut through the storm. The voice was youthful, clear—and urgent.
Instantly, the clashing qi vanished.
As if it had never existed.
Shen Rui and Dao Tian both withdrew their pressure simultaneously.
A young boy stepped forward, breathing slightly heavily.
Chen Wei.
Disciple of Sword Supreme Shen Rui.
Shen Rui turned, his expression dark.
"Why are you late?"
Chen Wei lowered his head immediately.
"Master, I apologize," he said quickly. "There were still wild beasts in the way as I followed you."
"Hmph," Shen Rui replied coldly. "Do not wander too deeply in this forest again. It is dangerous."
Chen Wei froze.
dangerous?
Shock flickered across his face before he suppressed it.
His master—calling something dangerous?
That alone spoke volumes.
It was rare—almost unheard of—for his master to describe anything as dangerous.
"I… understand, Master," Chen Wei replied obediently.
Then, after a brief hesitation, he added, "Master… I received a message from the Head Court."
Shen Rui's eyes flickered.
Surprise passed through them like lightning. High Court… could it be. Shen Rui thought.
He turned back towards Dao Tian, giving him a long, measuring look.
Then his gaze swept briefly over Ji Han and the others—still half-buried, still bleeding.
A faint release of qi followed.
And then—
He vanished.
The space he occupied warped violently before snapping back into place.
Silence returned.
Elder Tian remained.
Expressionless.
His gaze turned toward Ji Han.
Ji Han forced his trembling body upright, gathering what little qi he could. Pain tore through his meridians with every breath, but he endured.
With a deep bow, he spoke hoarsely.
"I greet the Sect Elder."
The others followed, voices overlapping weakly.
"I greet the Sect Elder."
Dao Tian's voice was cold.
"Ji Han. Follow me."
No explanation.
No comfort.
Space folded.
Both figures disappeared.
Yuan Li collapsed backward, finally exhaling a breath he felt he had been holding for his entire life.
"That was…" he muttered weakly, "…dangerous."
General Xu wiped blood from his lips and let out a heavy breath.
"Hoooh… I'm leaving."
Without another word, he turned and departed.
Su Mei steadied her qi, her eyes thoughtful.
"The treasure truly gathered attention," she said quietly.
Feng Lei spat blood and snarled.
"Those old monsters nearly burst me open."
Su Mei smiled faintly.
"Let's hope," she said, "we never meet again."
She faded into the shadows.
Feng Lei didn't linger.
Fear pushed him onward.
He left in a hurry—fearful that yet another powerhouse might descend.
Finally, only Yuan Li remained.
He glanced up at the stars, eyes gleaming faintly.
"Hm… this trip," he murmured, "was indeed fruitful."
And with that—
He left.
The Great Forest did not sleep.
Even in the deepest hours of the night—when moonlight failed to pierce the canopy and shadows
layered upon shadows—the forest breathed. Roots shifted beneath the soil. Ancient trees whispered
in voices too old to be called sound. Beasts lingered in hiding, their instincts screaming at them to
stay away from a certain place.
At the heart of that silence—
A voice spoke.
"I did not misjudge…"
The sound did not ripple through the air.
It did not disturb the leaves.
It did not echo.
It simply existed, as though the forest itself had chosen to speak.
"This child," the voice continued softly, almost thoughtfully, "truly does not possess the Thread of Fate."
The tone was the same.
The same voice that had answered Grandma Lu beneath the dying stars.
Yet now, without desperation weighing it down, it sounded different—lighter, sharper… curious.
A faint chuckle followed.
"Heh."
The sound warped.
The laughter that came next was not deep, nor aged, nor dignified.
It was high-pitched.
Resembling that of a male but… childish.
"Hahaha…"
The laughter echoed oddly through the forest, bouncing between trunks and roots in a way that made the shadows tremble. It did not carry joy—only relief, twisted and eager.
"At last…" the voice said, laughter softening into something closer to awe. "At last, I have found a way."
Deep within the forest's forbidden depths—
A cocoon rested.
It was formed not of silk, nor bark alone, but of countless interwoven branches—smooth, pale, and
faintly translucent. They curved inward like the ribs of some enormous beast, shielding what lay
inside from the world.
From between those branches seeped a strange qi.
Green.
Not vibrant.
Not dead.
But ancient.
It pulsed slowly, rhythmically, like a living breath.
Within the cocoon—
Aya slept.
His small body lay curled naturally, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His expression was
peaceful, untouched by the carnage that had preceded this moment. Dried blood still stained his
clothes, but the cocoon's qi carefully avoided it, as though respecting something unseen.
The forest recoiled from him.
Not in fear.
But in recognition.
The voice returned, closer now—lighter, tinged with amusement.
"He is far too young," it mused. "Not even able to speak. Not even able to understand what has been taken… or what has been given."
A pause.
A soft hum followed, as if the speaker were pacing—though nothing moved.
"He needs time," the voice continued. "Years. Decades, perhaps. He must grow before he can bear what he is meant to carry."
The green qi surrounding the cocoon thickened slightly, flowing more deliberately, threading itself through the branches like veins.
Then—
The voice brightened.
"Ah."
A note of excitement slipped through, sharp and sudden.
"That thing I found today…"
The forest reacted.
For a brief instant, the surrounding qi shuddered—trees creaked, and something deep beneath the soil stirred uncomfortably.
"Hm… for me to use it, it is vicious and " the voice said slowly, thoughtfully, "I would need His permission."
The word His carried weight.
The greenish qi trembled.
"But…" the voice shifted again, turning playful, almost mischievous. "For this child?"
A soft laugh escaped.
"It may be far more appropriate to let him handle it."
The cocoon pulsed once.
Aya turned slightly in his sleep, brow knitting faintly, as if reacting to something beyond dreams.
The voice laughed again—lighter now, almost pleased.
"Hahaha… I truly am a genius."
The sound lingered for a moment longer than it should have.
Then—
It faded.
Not abruptly.
Not violently.
But gently, like a thought being set aside.
The green qi surrounding the cocoon slowly stabilized, its glow dimming until it became nearly
indistinguishable from the forest's natural aura. The branches hardened, blending seamlessly into the
surrounding roots and trees.
The forest reclaimed the silence..
And somewhere within the Great Forest—
A child without fate slept, unaware that something ancient had just chosen him.
And the night concluded.
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading.
If you enjoyed this chapter, consider leaving a comment or adding the novel to your library.
The journey has only begun.
◆ To increase the immersion towards the story, my dear readers can try listening to any fantasy music in the background while reading. Peace.
◆ This work is an original story by Zümrüt. Unauthorized reposting is prohibited