The ancient stone chamber pulsed with stillness.
Zhen Hu stepped inside, feet bare against the cold marble floor, his breaths steady but shallow. The evaluation chamber was circular, domed in silverleaf tiles that shimmered faintly under glowing ZEN-lanterns. Pillars carved with the language of Intent towered around him. At the center of it all—hovering above a circular platform—was the Oracle Flame.
Not a true fire, but something older.
Something alive.
Elders sat in silence around the perimeter. Among them was the patriarch, Zhen Xun, his expression unreadable. Mie Xian was seated behind the formation line, her eyes searching his. There was concern there. But more than that—confusion. Doubt. Maybe even fear. She didn't know what she was afraid of.
And neither did Zhen Hu.
Aelira lingered unseen behind him, her spiritual form cloaked in thin ether. Her heart had not calmed since the last possession. Not her own. Something had reached through Zhen Hu and wielded his body like a puppet—but not one controlled by her threads.
"That thing," she thought. "It slept so deep… it shouldn't have stirred."
Zhen Hu stepped forward.
"Name?" asked the Keeper by the flame. His voice was as dry as paper.
"Zhen Hu," he answered.
"Realm?"
"Aethonix. First Layer." He didn't flinch.
The Oracle Flame flickered. The Keeper gestured. "He will undergo full Conservation Base scan. Evaluation of Intent and Zen signature. Commence."
Symbols ignited on the floor beneath Zhen Hu. Runes pulsed, spinning slowly—ancient texts of the conservation cycle, written in the tongue of the Nexarion seers. A thin line of golden light rose from the platform and connected to the base of his spine.
Pain. Not physical, but like something was reaching inside his core—rummaging through his marrow.
He gritted his teeth. The runes pulled.
Aelira's brows furrowed.
She could feel it. That presence. Dormant, but aware. Watching from within.
The Oracle Flame rose.
"Intent... fractured," it spoke.
"Zen signature... unusual."
The Elders shifted. Whispers ran through their ranks.
"He should be pure Aethonix at this stage…"
"But there's corruption. Or something close."
Zhen Xun narrowed his eyes. His jaw tightened, but he didn't speak.
The Oracle pulsed again. "No foreign Zen detected. No curse marks. No signs of parasitic bond."
Zhen Hu remained still, though his muscles twitched from strain.
Then came the final stage.
"Reveal Conservation Base," the Keeper said.
This was the soul-core. The foundation of any cultivator's path. If unstable, it meant corruption. If cracked—it meant rejection from the world's ZEN harmonies.
Zhen Hu exhaled.
He pushed open the gates of his inner world.
And for a moment—only a moment—the Oracle Flame reeled.
The light that emerged was dark. Nytherion laced through the golden stream. Not enough to expose him fully—but enough to rattle the Keeper's hand.
Still, the Oracle did not declare him fallen.
"Conservation Base... veiled. Unstable, but not fractured. Path... incomplete."
The verdict echoed.
Incomplete. Veiled. That was all they would say.
Zhen Hu let out a breath, barely holding back the pressure building in his gut. If Aelira hadn't masked it at the last moment, the entire sect would have seen the truth.
That his power did not belong.
That it was ancient. Malevolent. And alive.
He stepped down from the platform.
The crowd remained in uneasy silence.
Zhen Xun rose, his voice formal. "The evaluation is suspended. The Conservation Base is veiled—yet stable. Further observation will continue over the next cycle."
Zhen Hu's eyes met Mie Xian's. She didn't smile. She didn't speak. But she didn't look away.
And that, somehow, hurt more.
As he turned to leave, the Oracle Flame dimmed.
Aelira followed, hovering close, her expression unreadable.
He walked in silence through the stone corridors, heart heavy, spirit tired.
And in her own silence, Aelira whispered something only the wind could hear.
"It wasn't me who possessed him."
She floated beside him, invisible, but aching.
"And whatever it was… it's waking up."