The night was silent. Too silent.
Even the cicadas dared not sing as Fang Xi made his way past the outer walls, down through the old prayer tunnels long forgotten by the sect's elders. Dust coated every stone; spiderwebs danced in the windless dark.
In his hand, he held the map fragment from the black box.
Etched faintly in red ink:
"The vault lies where iron meets root, where Qi does not breathe."
Fang Xi's eyes narrowed.
"A dead vein," he whispered.
Somewhere deep in the mountain, a stretch of rock where no Qi flowed — a dead zone. Cultivators avoided such places. To most, they were useless. But to the Echo Cult…
They would call it sanctuary.
🔍 Beneath the Sect
The tunnels were labyrinthine — a relic from before the Ironwood Sect existed, carved by whoever once ruled this mountain. Fang Xi's spiritual sense weakened the deeper he descended.
He lit no torch. Used no light talisman. He had memorized every curve.
At last, he stopped before a collapsed stone wall.
A faint shimmer pulsed from his wrist.
The mark responded.
He placed his palm against the stone. A heartbeat passed.
Then — silence cracked.
The stone melted inward with a sound like tearing flesh.
🚪 Entering the Vault
Inside was a narrow stairwell, descending deep beneath the known mountain. The air grew colder, thinner. Fang Xi felt the pressure mount.
Then — the stairwell opened into a chamber of smooth obsidian.
No decorations. No symbols. Just a single altar, floating above a pool of black liquid.
On the altar lay a stone tablet.
And beside it, something moved.
🧟 The Guardian
It was not a beast.
Not a human.
A shape made of bone fragments, strung together with strands of living Qi. An Echo Construct — an artificial soulform designed to protect forbidden knowledge.
Its eyes glowed dimly.
"You carry the mark. Speak your purpose," it croaked.
Fang Xi bowed slightly, never lowering his gaze. "To awaken what remains."
The creature tilted its skull.
"One fragment. One question. One truth. Choose."
Fang Xi approached, heartbeat steady.
He looked at the three glyphs etched into the altar:
📘 The Fall of the Echo Cult
🧬 The Nature of the Rune
🕯 The First Fragment of Yun Zhao's Soul
He reached out and touched…
📘 The Fall of the Echo Cult
The room pulsed.
Suddenly, Fang Xi stood on a battlefield of gray flame.
Echo disciples screamed, fighting a losing war against righteous sects.
At the center stood Yun Zhao, hair wild, his chest bleeding open, carving runes in the air with his own blood.
The image zoomed into his hand — the mark.
"I split my soul into 81 echoes," Yun Zhao whispered. "I will return not through rebirth… but through memory."
Then he shattered.
The image vanished.
Fang Xi staggered.
The guardian spoke again.
"Now take your reward."
A glimmering orb rose from the pool. Within it floated a shard of silver Qi.
🧠 Fang Xi Gains a Soul Echo
[Soul Echo: Memory of the Final Battle]
When meditating, Fang Xi can tap into the emotions and fragmented thoughts of Yun Zhao's last stand. For now, it offers no power — only feeling.
But to the right mind…
It could become something more.
"How many others have walked this vault?" Fang Xi asked the construct.
"…You are the second."
"Who was the first?"
The creature didn't answer.
But before it dissolved, it spoke once more:
"If you seek the others… seek the city buried in snow."
🌄 Dawn Return
By the time Fang Xi returned to his quarters, the sect was waking.
He sat cross-legged, the Soul Echo pulsing faintly within his dantian.
Not power. Not yet. But one piece closer.
Outside, the Summit winners were being assigned their first missions.
And a name was whispered to him by River Shadow's servant:
"The Crimson Tomb has been found. Your team departs in five days."