Li stood in the Xuan ancestral hall, holding his father’s quivering body as it grew colder by the second.
Yi’s face twisted with resentment as he spat out, “You treacherous son! Stabbing me in the heart after all I’ve sacrificed for you.”
Li’s body shook under the weight of both his father and his words. “No, you’re wrong. I didn’t mean to…”
Yi let out a bitter laugh, his voice dripping with mockery. “Didn’t mean to? Who told you to grab the ceremonial sword? I always knew you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing! That’s why I never let you cultivate—I feared this exact scenario.”
Each word struck Li like a dagger, his father’s accusations driving deeper into his soul.
Yi continued, his voice laced with venom, “You took away my precious wife, inherited the ancestor’s formation eyes… Why is a bastard like you blessed by the heavens?”
Stammering, Li tried to refute his father’s words. “I… I didn’t kill Mother…”
Yi pulled him closer, his breath ragged. “If it weren’t for your so-called talents, why would she have died in childbirth? You’re a dark star, a curse. The Xuan lineage is finished because of you!”
As Yi’s dead body slipped from Li’s grasp, blood spread across the floor, pooling beneath the lifeless form.
Staring at his blood-covered hands, Li whispered, “You’re wrong… I just wanted to survive…”
He glanced up at the ancestor’s portrait. The lifelike eyes seemed to mock him, as if judging him for his actions.
A deep, resonant voice echoed in the hall, filled with disdain. “My useless descendants… One is a lovesick fool, the other an ungrateful brat. If I were alive, I’d kill you all myself.”
Li stumbled back, his ancestor’s gaze following him, mocking him with every step. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape.
Suddenly, a cold voice cut through the shadows. “Traitor, where do you think you’re going? On behalf of the Celestial Court, I will extinguish this filthy lineage.”
Stepping out of the darkness, Yun emerged, holding the severed heads of multiple Xuan family members. His gaze was icy, devoid of any sympathy.
“Sword Celestial, please, I didn’t collude—I’m not guilty!” Li screamed, backing into a wall, terror gripping his heart.
“Make sure not to meet me in the next life, trash,” Yun replied coldly, as he slashed his sword.
Li’s vision tilted as the world spun. He saw his lifeless body crumple to the ground, and just before everything went dark, he caught one last glimpse of the ancestor’s portrait, those mocking eyes burning into his soul.
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Li woke up in a cold sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He instinctively reached for his neck, trying to quell the tremors that shook his body.
Steel yourself, Li. You need to survive. Do whatever it takes to survive. The thought echoed in his mind as he fought to calm his racing heart. Gradually, the fear and guilt faded, buried beneath a forced calm that settled over him like a shroud.
He looked around and found himself in a cave room. The walls were unnaturally smooth, as if carved out by a blade. He was lying on a meditation mat, dressed in a fresh white robe.
A voice broke the silence. “Impressive. To calm yourself and suppress your emotions like that… No wonder Leader Yun spared you.”
Startled, Li realized he wasn’t alone. A large man, bald with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, sat meditating against the cave wall. His presence had been so unobtrusive that Li had completely missed him. The man wore the same black robes with a white hammer insignia—the mark of the Celestial Court. Despite his scholarly appearance, there was an air of danger about him, like a gang leader with a veneer of civility.
Raising his guard, Li bowed his head and replied, “I’m unworthy of the Sword Celestial’s care. May I ask, Senior, for your guidance?”
The man’s eyes gleamed with a hint of admiration. “Leader Yun instructed me to bring you to him once you awoke. My name is Han.”
With a wave of his hand, Han effortlessly lifted Li with a surge of chi, carrying him across the room.
A Senior Qi Cultivator! Li realized, his mind racing as he felt the immense power surrounding him.
Satisfied with Li’s reaction, Han turned and began walking toward a passage. “Follow me.”
Li kept his head down, following Han through the winding cave passages. The journey felt endless, the oppressive silence weighing on him. Finally, they arrived at a jade-framed cave entrance. Chi streamed out from the gaps in the door, so dense that it seemed almost tangible. While most would be drawn to the chi, Li’s focus was on the door itself, covered in intricate formations that gathered and compressed the energy within. Snapping out of his reverie, he quickly lowered his gaze to avoid drawing attention.
Han glanced at Li before bowing his head slightly. “Leader Yun, I have brought the boy.”
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A cold voice responded from within. “Well done, Han. You may leave.”
Without hesitation, Han complied, leaving Li alone at the entrance.
Trembling at the thought of facing Yun again, Li forced himself to remain calm as he waited for further instructions.
After what felt like an eternity, Yun’s voice rang out. “Come in.”
The cave door rippled, creating an entrance without spilling any more chi outside.
Li swallowed hard and stepped forward, his heart pounding with a mix of dread and anticipation. The moment he crossed the threshold, an overwhelming wave of chi surged over him, crashing into his body like an ocean against the shore. His pores flared open, and his neglected chi channels drank in the energy with an almost desperate hunger, flooding his system with raw power.
It took several moments for Li to steady himself, his senses reeling from the sudden onslaught. As he regained control, he cautiously surveyed his surroundings. The cave was eerily similar to the one where he had first awoken, but here, the walls bore the scars of countless battles. Deep, jagged sword slashes marred the stone, each cut infused with a lethal intent that seemed to pulse with residual energy. Some slashes were shallow, mere grazes on the surface, while others cut deep into the rock, as if the very stone had tried—and failed—to resist the force behind them. The aura of death was palpable, as if the cave itself had been a silent witness to untold violence.
At the center of the cave, a pool of pure, condensed chi shimmered with an ethereal glow. Wisps of mist rose from its surface, drifting lazily into the air, resembling the tendrils that had seeped through the entrance door. Seated at the heart of this pool, on opposite sides of a Go board, were two figures. Yun, with his cold, calculating presence, sat on one side, while another man, equally formidable, sat across from him. The chi-laden mist seemed to avoid them both, creating an invisible barrier around their game, as if even the energy in the air dared not approach their commanding auras.
‘Another cultivator,’ Li realized, his breath catching in his throat. The man facing Yun was undoubtedly a celestial cultivator, a being of immense power who likely viewed Li as little more than an insect.
Not daring to let his gaze linger, Li quickly averted his eyes, focusing on making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. He moved carefully to the edge of the chi pool, then knelt, bowing his head low in submission. The chi in the air was thick, almost suffocating, a blessing for a seasoned Qi practitioner but a curse for one like Li, who had never truly cultivated. His body, unaccustomed to such an intense environment, began to falter. Soon, his pores started to bleed under the relentless pressure, and the white robe he wore gradually soaked through with crimson stains.
Despite the pain gnawing at his flesh, Li forced himself to remain still, his breath shallow and controlled. The two cultivators paid him no mind, their focus entirely on the Go game between them. Each movement of the black and white stones was deliberate, methodical, as if the outcome of their match held the weight of a thousand lives. They seemed to savor the game, exuding a sense of timelessness, as though they had all the eternity in the world to finish their play.
The room was silent except for the soft clink of the stones on the board, a sound that somehow seemed louder in the oppressive stillness. Li dared not move, dared not breathe too deeply, as he waited in the periphery of this deadly quiet, hoping that his presence would continue to go unnoticed.
A deep voice broke the silence. “You’re being too sharp, Yun. Keeping a mortal from a traitorous lineage is a recipe for disaster.” The cultivator who had just beaten Yun in the game looked up, his gaze piercing as he spoke of Li's origins, clearly aware of his history.
Unbothered by the loss, Yun calmly drew his sword from his back and slammed it into the Go board. The pieces scattered in all directions, clattering to the floor with the sound of shattering illusions. Some of the pieces struck Li’s prone form, their impact barely registering against the greater pain he endured. Yun’s voice was cold, almost indifferent. “Being too sharp isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It helps in cutting down anything that stands in the way.”
The guest sighed, resigned to his friend’s domineering nature. “I’ve scanned this mortal inside and out. His qualifications barely allow for Qi practice. He’s been in this cave the whole time, and instead of improving, he’s nearly at death’s door. What makes him worth such a big risk?”
Yun’s lips curled into a grin, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Sheathing his sword with deliberate care, he said, “Li, raise your head.”
Li slowly lifted his head, his body trembling from the effort. Blood stained his white robe, his black hair streaked with gray hanging in disarray over his face. Yet his eyes—those distinct black and white eyes—shone with a clarity and intensity that belied his weakened state.
The guest’s expression shifted, his skepticism giving way to realization. “No wonder… How could an old dog like you stumble upon a treasure like this on a dead planet like Xuan? I would have done the same.”
Yun’s grin widened, his tone thick with satisfaction. “Boy, you examined my formations outside, didn’t you?”
Li’s body stiffened, his silence confirming Yun’s statement.
Ignoring Li’s fear, Yun continued, his voice commanding. “Explain them for our guest.”
Recognizing this as his chance to prove his worth, Li forced his fear into submission and focused his mind. He recalled the countless nights spent in darkness, poring over ancient texts and diagrams, deciphering the secrets of formations. With a steadying breath, he began, “The door outside is made of inferior jade, used as a carrier for three distinct formation types.”
The guest raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Three?”
Yun waved his hand dismissively. “Let him continue.”
Li nodded slightly and went on, “The first formation type, and the most numerous, is a classic chi-gathering formation that mimics the structure of chi veins to pull in energy. The second type is a space-folding formation, designed to increase the density of the chi gathered. Under normal circumstances, the chi in this cave would be enough to fill multiple caverns, but thanks to the space-folding formation, it’s contained within this tight space. The third, and most ingenious, formation type is a water-gathering formation. This formation condenses the dense, compressed chi into a liquid state, creating the pool at the center.”
A heavy silence followed Li’s explanation, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Finally, the guest’s voice emerged, tinged with both admiration and frustration. “A water formation… I never expected to be outmatched by a mortal. Your formation eyes will lead to great things.” For the first time since his arrival, the guest acknowledged Li’s presence.
Turning back to Yun, the guest’s tone grew serious. “What’s the price?”
Yun’s eyes gleamed with a mix of greed and triumph as he assessed Li’s value. “An intelligent youth, marked by the stain of treachery, yet blessed with formation eyes… A piece like this is invaluable.”
The guest sighed, knowing he had little choice in the matter. “Let’s negotiate.”
Kneeling there, Li realized he was being sold, his fate bartered like a commodity. But instead of resentment, he felt a strange calm settle over him as he listened to the ongoing negotiations. The voices of Yun and the guest became a distant murmur, blending into the background as his thoughts drifted.
To survive, Li thought, I’d rather bend than break.