By ArkGodZ | DaoVerse Studio
The crimson moon hung low, unnaturally bright, as if the heavens themselves were watching the slaughter below.
Smoke and ash filled the night air, carrying the scent of blood, fire, and betrayal. Where once stood the proud Li Clan estate—one of the oldest noble cultivation families in the Eastern Sky Realm—now remained only ruins. Its grand pagodas lay in splinters, courtyards reduced to rubble, statues of ancient founders shattered beyond recognition.
Jian Yu stumbled forward, barely standing. His black and silver robes, once embroidered with the sigil of the Azure Lotus, now hung in bloodied shreds. Cuts covered his arms. His legs trembled. His dantian—his core of cultivation—was shattered, the spiritual energy within him reduced to dying embers.
Bodies were everywhere. Elders, disciples, servants... his people.
Dead.
"Traitors…" he gasped, clutching his side as he limped toward the central altar. "They were all… traitors…"
His vision blurred. The once-familiar stones beneath his feet were soaked in crimson. The ancestral altar—the very heart of the Li Clan—burned.
Above it stood Elder Mo of the Heavenly Hall, suspended in midair on a floating spiritual platform, cloaked in a robe of starlight.
"You dared to awaken the Sutra of Forbidden Desire," Mo's voice echoed with divine authority. "The heavens have judged your clan unworthy."
Jian Yu spat blood. "It chose me. I didn't ask for this power."
Mo's expression didn't change. "You were warned. Power rooted in emotion is unstable. Corrupting. It leads only to madness."
"And yet… here you are," Jian Yu snarled, his teeth red with blood. "Afraid of what I might become."
Mo raised his hand. The air distorted with condensed spiritual pressure. Lightning crackled across the sky. Other cultivators stood behind him—members of rival sects who once bowed before the Li Clan. Now, they watched in silence, complicit in its destruction.
"You will die tonight," Mo said coldly. "But not before witnessing the end of your legacy."
Jian Yu dropped to his knees as the power surged toward him. But in that moment, as all hope faded, something deep within his soul awakened.
A voice—ancient, feminine, soft as silk—whispered through his mind:
Do you wish to live… or to ascend?
His eyes widened. He had heard that voice before—in dreams, in fragments of memories from when he first meditated near the Lotus Spring. It called to him then. It called to him now.
Offer your heart to the Crimson Sutra. Bind yourself to the cycle of desire and fate. And be reborn.
Without understanding why, Jian Yu thrust his hand into the burning altar. Pain tore through his arm. Flames engulfed his body. But he did not scream.
He surrendered.
The flames turned black.
From within the fire, a single lotus bloomed—its petals dark as the void, its core glowing a deep, seductive red. The Crimson Lotus of the Broken Dao.
Elder Mo's attack struck down.
The world shattered.
And Jian Yu died.
He awoke in darkness.Cold. Weak. Caged.
His breathing was ragged. His body felt... different. Smaller. Younger. Frailer.
The stone beneath his back was damp. Rusted chains coiled around his wrists and ankles. A heavy iron collar circled his neck.
He coughed. Dust filled his lungs. Around him, three other figures lay on the ground, snoring or unconscious, shackled to the walls of a small, windowless cell.
"Where… am I?"
He tried to summon spiritual energy—but nothing answered. His core was empty. His dantian… wasn't even formed.
Then it hit him. He wasn't in his body anymore. This wasn't the Li Clan estate.
This was...
"A servant's prison…"
The door creaked.
A silhouette appeared, framed by moonlight. She entered without a word, her footsteps silent, her presence cold.
A woman.
She wore the robes of an inner disciple—dark blue silk with silver embroidery. Her hair was silver-white, long and untied, and her eyes… her eyes were like frozen lakes—beautiful and distant.
She stopped beside him.
"You're awake," she said. Her voice was calm. Controlled. Neither hostile nor kind.
He stared at her, confused. Her face—it stirred something in him. Like a memory behind frosted glass.
"Who… are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
She didn't reply. Instead, she knelt and touched his forehead.
In an instant, heat surged through his skull—a probing, searing wave of spiritual energy. Visions flared behind his eyes.
Flames.Screams.The Crimson Lotus blooming.A broken sword buried in blood.A promise.
You will return.
She pulled back.
"Your soul… is fractured," she said softly. "But it's not from this life."
He flinched.
"You are not what you seem," she added, standing. "That will be… interesting."
She turned to leave.
"Wait!" Jian Yu called. "What is this place? Who are you?"
She paused at the door but didn't turn around.
"This is the Seita da Lua Pálida," she said. "And you... are now one of us."
The door closed behind her, leaving Jian Yu in silence.
But inside him, something stirred.
The flame had not died.It had hidden.
And with it, the Crimson Lotus pulsed once more—silent… patient… hungry.
⚔️ End of Prologue
Next: Chapter 1 – The Silent Flame