The decree arrived at dawn, carried by a white crane with silver-tipped feathers—an Imperial messenger beast. Its appearance alone was enough to make the outer courtyard disciples drop what they were doing and bow instinctively.
Kael stood beneath the plum tree, eyes narrowing as the crane landed before him and extended one claw, revealing a scroll sealed with crimson wax bearing the insignia of the Central Empire: a dragon coiled around a celestial orb.
Feng Lian and Lin arrived moments later, both out of breath.
Lin's face paled. "That seal… it's the Emperor's Court."
Kael broke the seal and read in silence. When he finished, he let the scroll roll itself back into his hand. He turned to the others.
"I've been summoned to represent the Azure Feather Sect in the Grand Trials."
The Grand Trials.
Held once every fifty years, they weren't mere competitions—they were opportunities for empires to weigh the rising generation, discover hidden talents, and more importantly, decide who would serve in future wars. The participants would be tested not just in combat, but in strategic acumen, artifact creation, alchemical mastery, and most mysterious of all… spiritual resonance.
Feng Lian spoke first. "You're not ready."
Kael raised a brow. "You think I'll lose?"
"No," she replied. "I think you'll be seen."
That silenced him.
She continued, "You've done well to hide your cultivation, your techniques, even your presence. But in the Grand Trials? The Empire's eyes are sharper than any sect elder's. There will be people who can see through your soul."
Lin added softly, "You won't be the only monster there."
Kael nodded. "All the more reason to go."
Two days later, Kael departed. The Sect Master himself gave him the Azure Emblem—proof of his status as a representative. Alongside Kael traveled three others: Feng Lian, who had insisted on joining; Su Ren, a refined alchemist with quiet arrogance; and Lei Fang, a tall, cold-eyed cultivator known for his mastery of lightning arts.
They traveled by spirit vessel—an enormous floating platform shaped like a lotus, glowing with runes and guided by wind talismans. As the sect faded behind them, Lin stood at the peak of the cliff, watching him leave. She didn't wave. Neither did he.
They both understood.
Something was changing.
As they crossed over into the Central Empire's inner region, the air thickened with qi. Cities floated in the clouds. Mountains curved upward like the spines of dragons. Armies marched in perfect silence across golden plains. Everywhere Kael looked, power moved like a tide barely restrained.
The capital itself—Yuhuang City—was unlike anything he'd imagined.
Sprawling and ancient, its outer walls were made from starmetal, shimmering under the midday sun. At its center stood the Celestial Palace, shaped like a sword plunged into the earth, its tip reaching into the heavens.
They were led not to the palace, but to the Trial Arena—an island suspended in the sky, surrounded by storm clouds and protective formations. Here, sects from across the continent had gathered. Names Kael had only seen in ancient texts. Cultivators who could part seas. Alchemists whose pills revived the dying. Healers who could glimpse karma.
And among them, observers from hidden clans, demonic bloodlines, and even Abyss-touched factions.
Feng Lian whispered to Kael, "You feel it too, don't you?"
He nodded. "They're not just here to compete. They're here to recruit."
Their accommodations were luxurious, but Kael didn't rest. That night, as the moon hovered over the mist-covered arena, he entered meditation.
The shard from the Crimson Vault pulsed at his side. He drew it out again and focused. The runes shifted. Words formed.
"The Bloodline sleeps. The Brand remembers."
A chill swept through him.
A presence entered the room.
Kael opened his eyes.
Across from him stood a youth with white hair and golden irises—unmistakably imperial.
"Kael of the Azure Feather Sect," the boy said. "I am Prince Zhen, Fourth Son of the Celestial Emperor. I have come to warn you."
Kael remained seated. "Of what?"
Zhen smiled faintly. "Of yourself."
Kael stood now, his posture calm.
Prince Zhen walked slowly around the room, his gaze occasionally flickering to the obsidian shard.
"You are not the first with the Brand," he said. "But you may be the last."
Kael said nothing.
"The Brand awakens when the boundary between realms weakens. The Abyss is stirring again."
Finally, Kael asked, "What do you want from me?"
Zhen stopped walking.
"To survive," he said simply. "Because if you fall, they will not seal you. They will use you."
Kael stepped forward. "You know what I am?"
Zhen's golden eyes glowed faintly. "No. I know what you're becoming."
Before Kael could speak again, the prince vanished—no ripple of qi, no burst of speed. He simply ceased to be.
The obsidian shard cracked slightly in Kael's hand.
At dawn, the first round of the Grand Trials began.
A crowd of tens of thousands gathered in the floating arena, surrounded by screens of crystal that displayed the battles.
Feng Lian went first. Her opponent, a storm disciple from the Roaring Sky Sect, laughed at her seemingly frail appearance. Five minutes later, he was unconscious, trapped in a prison of mirrored illusions and sliced by spiritual winds so sharp they left no wounds—only shattered meridians.
Su Ren passed his trial through alchemy—refining a heaven-grade pill under immense pressure while being bombarded with questions from six ancient masters. He passed with one mistake. One.
Lei Fang's battle was explosive—his lightning bolts carved craters into the stone floor. His opponent survived only by forfeiting.
Then came Kael's turn.
His arena was different.
No opponent.
No rules.
Just a vast, empty space with a single floating platform—and a mirror.
A voice rang out.
"You have no opponent. Your test is reflection."
The mirror began to glow.
Kael stepped toward it. At first, it showed him as he was—black robes, calm expression, eyes unreadable.
Then it changed.
His reflection grew horns. Eyes became pitch-black voids. The air rippled with Abyssal corruption.
Behind the mirror, Kael heard gasps. The crowd saw what he saw.
"Is that his inner self?" someone whispered.
"No… that's something else."
Kael's reflection stepped out of the mirror.
It spoke with his voice.
"You want to protect them. But you will destroy them."
The corrupted Kael attacked.
Kael responded, not with overwhelming power, but with restraint. Each deflection, each movement, was perfectly calculated. He wasn't fighting to win.
He was fighting to contain the other version.
But the fake Kael was relentless. Every strike shattered the arena further, sending shockwaves that reached the audience. Elders began murmuring.
"His cultivation… it's masked."
"That level… it's beyond Nascent."
Kael finally moved.
His eyes glowed violet. One palm strike—infused with both abyssal and human qi—met the reflection's chest.
The false Kael froze.
"You are not me," Kael said. "You're what the world fears I will become."
With a whisper, the reflection shattered.
Silence.
Then thunderous applause.
But the elders didn't cheer.
They stared at him with unease.
Back in his chamber, Kael exhaled deeply. The reflection hadn't been a trick.
It had been real.
Part of him—fragmented.
Waiting.
Growing.
But something else had awakened too.
Something older than the Abyss. Something that had no name, only will.
It had whispered during the fight, too faint to hear.
But now Kael remembered.
"When the stars fall, and the blood moon rises… You will open the Gate."
Kael clenched his fist.
He had come to the Trials to hide.
Now, it was too late.