The wind screamed.
Not the gentle whisper of passing air—but a violent, roaring torrent that tore across the sky like an unrestrained beast.
Two figures streaked through the heavens.
They moved so fast that the clouds parted unwillingly before them, split apart by sheer momentum.
Mountains blurred beneath their feet, rivers became silver threads, and forests collapsed into streaks
of green as the world rushed past.
Dao Tian flew ahead.
His posture was upright, composed, his silver-white qi wrapped tightly around his body like a flawless
mantle. His expression was calm—cold even—as though nothing beneath the heavens could disturb
his state of mind.
Behind him followed Ji Han.
His breathing was steady on the surface, but inside, his body screamed.
The lingering pressure of Shen Rui's qi suppression had not fully faded. His meridians still throbbed
faintly with pain, each circulation of qi carrying a dull ache that reminded him just how close he had
been to death.
Sword Supreme…
Even now, recalling that presence made Ji Han's heart tighten.
After a long silence, Ji Han finally spoke.
"Sect Elder…"
His voice was low, restrained, carrying an unmistakable weight of guilt.
"I apologize… for making you come here personally."
Dao Tian did not slow.
He did not turn.
The wind tore past them for several more breaths before his voice finally emerged—cold, even, emotionless.
"No apology is necessary."
Ji Han clenched his jaw slightly.
Dao Tian continued, his tone unchanged.
"The threat level was far higher than we initially anticipated. Far beyond what a mere rumour should have warranted."
His eyes narrowed slightly as distant memories surfaced.
"Who would have thought… that a rumour with an unknown origin would turn out to be true—and that the treasure involved would be of this magnitude."
Ji Han's heart skipped a beat.
He hesitated, then spoke again.
"Sect Elder… how did you know?"
The words slipped out before he could stop himself.
Before Ji Han could finish forming his thought, Dao Tian interrupted calmly.
"Do you truly believe," Dao Tian said, "that Sword Supreme Shen Rui's presence there was a coincidence?"
Ji Han stiffened.
"And do you believe," Dao Tian continued, his voice sharpening imperceptibly, "that someone of his standing would wait patiently for a rumour whose origin was unknown, uncertain, and unverified?"
The implication struck like lightning.
Ji Han's thoughts raced.
Sword Supreme… waiting…
That alone felt absurd.
He fell silent, his brows knitting together as his mind churned.
Dao Tian cast him a brief sideways glance.
Then he spoke again.
"When the Abyss Spine Beast appeared."
Ji Han's eyes widened instantly.
How does the Sect Elder know that?
Before Ji Han could voice his shock, Dao Tian continued unhurriedly.
"The treasure concealed within that beast caused a deviation."
"A minute deviation… in the flow of qi."
Ji Han's heart thudded violently.
Dao Tian's voice remained calm, yet every word carried crushing weight.
"You know this well, Ji Han. A deviation in the flow of qi—even one so minute that mortals would never perceive it—cannot be taken lightly."
Ji Han swallowed.
The flow of qi… deviated?
His expression betrayed his disbelief.
"How… is that even possible?" he thought.
Dao Tian saw the shock plainly written across Ji Han's face.
He did not ask.
He already knew what Ji Han was thinking.
"Yes," Dao Tian said calmly. "The treasure you obtained is at least Saint-grade."
The world seemed to pause.
Ji Han's breath hitched.
For the first time since his cultivation stabilized years ago, his composure cracked.
"S-Saint-grade?" he repeated, unable to suppress the tremor in his voice.
His usually calm eyes were filled with disbelief.
"Sect Elder… Saint-grade treasures… aren't there only nine in the entire cultivation world?"
Dao Tian nodded slightly.
"You are correct."
Ji Han's chest tightened.
Nine.
Only nine Saint-grade treasures had ever been acknowledged by the heavens.
Each one was a pillar of the cultivation world—existences capable of altering eras, toppling sects, and rewriting destinies.
And now—
One more?
Dao Tian continued.
"You may not have noticed it," he said, "but cultivators beyond a certain realm are capable of detecting such deviations."
Ji Han listened intently, fear and awe intertwining in his chest.
"The reason," Dao Tian said, "lies in the secret behind the flow of qi itself."
His gaze sharpened.
"You understand this secret… do you not?"
Ji Han's expression grew solemn.
"Yes, Sect Elder."
He inhaled deeply.
"When the nine Saint-grade treasures first appeared simultaneously in the world…"
His voice slowed, reverent.
"They overturned the entire cycle of cultivation."
His eyes widened gradually as memory and realization merged.
"And above all of them—"
His voice dropped to a near whisper.
"The very first… the beginning… the emergence…"
Ji Han's pupils trembled.
"It was the event that caused an immeasurably massive deviation in the flow of qi…"
His breath caught.
"—The Sacred Inception."
The words carried ancient weight.
Even the wind seemed to soften, as if unwilling to interrupt.
For a brief moment, the sky itself felt distant.
Then—
"That is enough."
Dao Tian's voice cut cleanly through the heaviness.
Ji Han blinked, startled.
"We have arrived."
The pressure in the air eased.
As if crossing an invisible boundary, the violent wind dissipated.
Warmth touched Ji Han's face.
The horizon brightened.
The sun rose.
Golden light spilled across the world, washing away darkness and shadow. Before them, towering
through mist and radiant qi, stood a sight that stole Ji Han's breath away—no matter how many
times he had seen it.
The Dao Immortal Sect.
Floating mountain peaks hovered majestically in the sky, connected by bridges of pure condensed qi.
Cascading waterfalls descended from impossible heights, dissolving into mist before touching the
ground. Vast palaces carved from jade and celestial stone glowed softly beneath the sunlight.
Immense formations pulsed rhythmically, invisible yet omnipresent—protective arrays capable of
repelling even High-level threats.
It was luxurious.
It was beautiful.
And above all—
It was absolute.
Ji Han lowered his head instinctively.
Dao Tian slowed, his robes fluttering gently as he descended.
"The matters discussed today," Dao Tian said calmly, "are not to be spoken of lightly."
Ji Han bowed deeply.
"Yes, Sect Elder."
Dao Tian's gaze lingered briefly on the distant peaks—toward the heart of the sect.
A Saint-grade deviation…
And something even Sword Supreme sought…
For the first time in many years—
Even Dao Tian felt the heavens stirring.
The sky burned with the colours of dawn.
Golden sunlight spilled across the horizon as two figures streaked through the air, their speed so
great that the wind screamed around them. Below, mountains and forests blurred into indistinct
shadows, unable to keep pace.
Chen Wei flew slightly behind his master, his breathing steady but his thoughts restless.
After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke.
"Master…"
His voice was cautious, respectful. "Was that… Elder Tian?"
Shen Rui did not slow down.
His expression remained cold, carved from stone, his gaze fixed forward as the wind tore past him.
"Yes," he replied flatly.
Chen Wei's heart tightened.
Shen Rui's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he continued, his voice carrying a rare trace of displeasure.
"I did not expect them to react so quickly," he said. "For Dao Immortal Sect to dispatch one of their Five Elders so soon… it is indeed troubling."
Chen Wei swallowed.
So it truly was that serious.
Shen Rui's sleeve fluttered violently as his qi surged for a brief moment before settling once more.
"Now that they possess that Thing," Shen Rui said, his tone lowering, "we must report this immediately to the Patriarch."
An unspoken heaviness was in the air.
Chen Wei hesitated, then asked carefully, "Master… but we left without accomplishing our objective."
There was uncertainty in his voice—something rarely heard when addressing the Sword Supreme.
Shen Rui finally turned his head slightly, his sharp gaze falling upon his disciple.
"The summons from the High Court," he said coldly, "means the situation has surpassed urgency."
Chen Wei's pupils contracted.
The High Court.
If they were involved, then even a Sword Supreme could not act freely.
"I understand, Master," Chen Wei said quietly.
They continued their flight in silence, the sun climbing higher behind them as the distant outline of their sect slowly emerged on the horizon.
But Chen Wei fell silent, understanding that this was no longer a matter of choice.
For the first time in many years—
A faint sense of unease settled in his heart.
Deep within the Great Forest—
The Great Forest did not welcome daylight.
Though the sun shone brilliantly beyond its borders, the dense canopy of ancient trees swallowed
every ray of light before it could touch the ground. Towering trunks layered upon one another, their
shadows intertwining so deeply that the forest remained locked in perpetual twilight.
At its deepest point—
Branches twisted unnaturally, thick and ancient, emitting a soft green radiance. They converged toward a single point, forming a protective enclosure.
Within that web of branches—
A book floated silently.
Its surface was dark, worn, and etched with symbols that seemed to writhe when stared at for too
long. A grey, unsettling aura seeped from its pages, distorting the surrounding qi as though rejecting
the very world itself.
The forest shuddered faintly.
A voice echoed.
"The scripture I obtained…"
The voice was light—almost childish—yet it carried an ancient sharpness beneath it.
"…is even more vicious than I expected."
The sound resonated through the roots, through the soil, through the veins of the forest itself.
Though it was daytime, the shadows deepened.
"Even with His blessing," the voice continued, irritation creeping into its tone, "I cannot open it."
A pause.
Annoyance surfaced clearly now.
"Tch… troublesome."
The branches quivered slightly, reacting to the shift in emotion.
"This thing emerged from a corrupted beast," the voice mused. "To think it travelled such a distance… and yet, a mere Spine Beast possessed such a treasure."
There was disbelief.
Then curiosity.
"Hm…"
The voice fell silent, as though sinking into thought.
Suddenly a massive surge of green qi erupted—
The forest roared.
A vast surge of green qi erupted from every direction. Trees groaned as spiritual energy was forcibly drawn from their roots. Leaves trembled violently, and the air itself screamed as qi spiralled inward.
The swirling energy gathered.
Compressed.
Condensed.
The green qi twisted upon itself, forming a vague outline—then limbs, then a shape.
The pressure intensified.
Finally—
The qi stabilized. Slowly, a shape began to form.
Standing at the centre of the storm was a figure.
A child.
No taller than a mortal boy, yet his presence caused the forest to bow in submission.
His eyes glowed a pure crystalline green, radiant and bottomless, as if entire forests were reflected
within them. His hair, the same shade of emerald, flowed softly like silk, untouched by the violent qi
that birthed him.
He wore a dark green robe, embroidered with patterns resembling roots, veins, and ancient symbols. Each thread pulsed faintly with immense spiritual power.
In his hand—
The strange scripture.
Its grey aura clashed violently with the green qi surrounding the child, yet neither dominated the other.
The child tilted his head slightly.
"Hm… enough for today," he said calmly. "Perhaps I should leave this for now."
The pressure leaking from his body alone was enough to crush mountains.
Then his gaze shifted.
Toward a cocoon of branches nearby.
The cocoon was tightly woven, layered with green qi. Fine cracks had begun to spread across its surface, faint but unmistakable.
"Oh?" The child's lips curved into a faint smile.
He approached slowly, his steps soundless.
"I wonder," he murmured, "what his consciousness is witnessing right now."
His eyes softened—just slightly.
"let's see if I really made a right choice…"
Darkness.
Endless and heavy.
Mist rolled endlessly through a vast, empty space, swallowing sound and form alike. The air felt thick, suffocating, as though reality itself had thinned.
Fog rolled thickly, swallowing everything within it yet a faint light flickered.
Barely visible.
Standing beneath it was a child.
Aya.
But a bit older.
His body stood motionless, eyes closed, as though lost in a deep, unreachable slumber. The mist curled around him, whispering endlessly.
Voices echoed.
Countless voices.
Too distorted to understand.
Too distant to grasp.
They overlapped, clashed, faded—until suddenly—
One voice emerged, an elderly voice, likely resembling that of an aged man.
Clear.
Resonant.
"I… entrust this to you."
The words echoed.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
Each repetition felt heavier, sinking deep into the darkness.
Aya's fingers twitched faintly.
The voice lingered—
Then slowly faded.
The mist thickened.
And silence reclaimed the darkness.
Author's Note:Zümrüt
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.
◆This work is an original story by Zümrüt. Unauthorized reposting is prohibited