Dawn broke over the mist-shrouded peaks of Cloud Blade Sect. The narrow mountain path to the Inner Sect wound like a serpent through ancient pines and twisted vines. Occasional cries from spirit birds echoed faintly, stirring the spiritual energy in the air as if nature itself sensed a change.
Yao Yi followed Elder Yin Yue silently.
The elder moved steadily, his silver hair flowing like threads of the wind, his robe trailing faint wisps of spiritual power. Yao Yi's steps grew heavier—not from fatigue, but from the weight of unseen pressure and destiny pressing down upon him.
"You have not awakened an ordinary power," Yin Yue finally spoke, his voice calm yet edged with steel. "That mirror… it is not of our sect's making."
Yao Yi's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Elder?"
"It was left behind by your father."
Yao Yi halted in surprise.
"I know only fragments," Yin Yue continued without turning back. "Years ago, your father ventured deep into the Central Realm, defied the ancient blood seals, and returned badly wounded, clutching that very mirror. Shortly thereafter, he vanished without a trace. The sealing of your spiritual roots was also his doing. As for why… even I do not know."
A tight knot formed in Yao Yi's throat. His memories of his father, Yao Qing, were shadows and whispers. Now hearing this, it felt like the echo of a storm that once roared through his bloodline.
"Is he still alive?" Yao Yi asked quietly.
A long pause followed before Elder Yin sighed, "That remains unknown."
They reached a steep incline where ancient stone stairs, half-covered in moss and vines, led to a shrine swallowed by the mountain's embrace. The building was worn by time, but on its heavy doors, the faded characters "Yao Hall" were still visible.
Yao Yi's heart skipped.
"This was his dwelling," Elder Yin said softly. "And now, it is yours."
Inside the hall, a profound stillness hung in the air, as if the place had been waiting, suspended outside time. Dust blanketed the floor, but the furniture, scroll racks, and incense holders looked preserved by some invisible hand.
Yao Yi approached a corner of the inner chamber where a single line was carved into the stone wall:
If you are reading this, then you have earned the right to choose.
Signed: Yao Qing.
—
That night, Yao Yi sat alone at the edge of the cliff outside Yao Hall. The night wind tugged at his robe as he gazed over the jagged mountain peaks disappearing into darkness. The mark on his left hand faintly glowed with a warm pulse.
Lost in thought, he heard footsteps approaching.
"You don't look like a cultivator—more like a ghost who forgot to die," came a cold voice.
Yao Yi turned to see a young woman in white leaning against an ancient locust tree, arms crossed and eyes icy.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Assessment officer," she replied, tossing a jade token toward him. "Sent by Elder Yin Yue to test your worth. Let's see if you're just noise—or something more."
Before Yao Yi could react, runes shimmered into existence around them, weaving a complex array that sealed off the cliff's space.
"Begin," she said flatly.
Four black-clad figures emerged silently from the shadows, all masked and exuding the aura of Inner Sect elites.
Yao Yi's expression remained calm, even amused.
"Elder Yin told me not to hide anything," he said softly. "So let's see if the Tenth Sun can devour you."
He planted his foot on the ground.
The ancient mirror appeared, floating behind him, radiating a tidal wave of emerald light, like a dragon unleashed from a thousand-year slumber.
The masked attackers struck instantly. One unleashed chains of crackling red lightning; another slashed with crescent-shaped wind blades; the others closed in from both sides.
Yao Yi moved like water, the green energy guiding his reflexes. He caught a wind blade bare-handed, sparks flying, spun and sent a shockwave that blasted two foes backward.
This power… it responds to my will, he thought.
The woman's eyes narrowed sharply.
Yao Yi stepped forward, and from the mirror materialized a spectral arm of green flame, sweeping across and striking a masked attacker squarely in the chest.
The man coughed blood and collapsed unconscious.
A voice echoed in Yao Yi's mind—not from anywhere in the physical world:
You have taken your first step. Choose the path: submission… or ascension.
The mirror flared brightly.
An ancient, blazing sigil unfolded in the air.
Time seemed to freeze.
Even the woman showed surprise.
Then the light withdrew like a receding tide. The array collapsed. The four attackers lay unconscious.
Yao Yi gasped, chest heaving.
"You passed," the woman said, admiration flickering in her voice for the first time. "Report to the trial grounds tomorrow. You are now officially an Inner Sect disciple."
Before Yao Yi could respond, she vanished into the forest shadows.
—
Far beneath the sect, in the deepest vault, a golden talisman silently shattered.
An elder with eyes like dying stars stared at a jade scroll.
"He has triggered the Rootless Brand," he whispered.
A black crow alighted on his shoulder, whispering in an ancient, forgotten tongue.
"The stars align. Kill him before he reaches the fourth tier."
—
Yao Yi returned to Yao Hall, alone once more.
As he sat to meditate, the ancient mirror appeared unbidden, hovering silently above him. This time, no voice came. Only a faint pulse of light—the emblem of ten suns swirling in black void.
He reached out.
It did not burn.
It welcomed him.