The winds of Ashwake Valley carried a biting chill, one that slipped past armor and bone to nestle deep in the marrow. Dust and soot swirled in the air, not from battle but from nature itself.
Here, the land bore scars of ancient wars long forgotten: craters veined with charred roots, rivers turned to obsidian by dragonfire, and peaks shattered by divine strikes.
It was not a place for the weak. And yet, Lian Mu stood there alive, focused, and completely out of his depth.
He pulled his cloak tighter as another gust blew up from the gorges below. The journey from the Skywatcher Barracks had taken three days by wind ox cart and another half day on foot.
Each step since entering Ashwake had felt heavier, as if the very earth resisted his presence.
Beside him, Kael adjusted the clasp on his armor, eyes scanning the horizon.
„This place feels cursed," Lian muttered.
Kael didn't argue. „It is. But it's also where most low-tier cultivators come to prove they're worth something."
Lian raised an eyebrow. „So I'm here to prove myself?"
„You're here to survive something that wants you dead," Kael replied flatly. „Big difference."
They reached the edge of a ravine known as the Cradle of Echoes, named for the way even whispers bounced endlessly through its stone halls. But now, no echo came only silence.
Kael dropped his pack. „This is where we separate."
Lian turned sharply. „What? Why?"
„Orders from Bai Zhen. He says your bond with the Godseed needs to be tested without assistance. No observers. No crutches."
Lian's mouth tightened.
Kael nodded toward a narrow path winding into the valley below. It was unmarked, barely distinguishable from the surrounding cliffs.
„There's a formation trial down there. A small one. Leftover from the old dynasties. If you make it through, you'll be stronger and the Godseed will strengthen with you. If you fail… well, at least it'll be quick."
Lian stared at the path. He felt the heat at his core stir faintly, like an ember sensing fresh kindling.
„Fine," he said. „When do I start?"
Kael's gaze turned distant. „You already have."
And with that, the older warrior turned and walked away, his footsteps vanishing into the rising wind.
Ashwake's Interior Several Hours Later
The valley grew stranger the deeper Lian ventured.
What began as jagged stone trails soon turned into fields of molten shale, then into a maze of silver thorns growing from black soil. The terrain changed unnaturally fast, like the world didn't quite follow the same rules here.
Occasionally, a flicker of blue fire danced across the edges of his vision vanishing whenever he turned to look.
And all the while, that voice inside him whispered.
Not words. Not commands. Just pressure. A weight. A reminder. Grow. Burn. Rise.
Lian stopped in a hollow where the ground glowed faintly beneath his feet. He knelt, placing a hand on the ground. His spiritual sense expanded and immediately recoiled.
The land was full of old blood.
Not physical blood, but residual energy. Spirit signatures long faded, yet still echoing through the bones of the valley.
Warriors had fought here hundreds, maybe thousands. Most had died. A few had become something else.
Suddenly, the air snapped. Lian's instincts screamed.
He rolled to the side just in time to avoid a jagged spike of shadow that burst from the ground where he'd just knelt. More followed like claws erupting from the very earth, each one pulsing with corrupted spirit energy.
„Great," Lian growled. „Of course it's a fight."
The first creature emerged a Wraiththorn, a twisted beast made of bark, bone, and smoke. Its body was long and insectoid, but its face had the remnants of a human skull.
Its mouth opened unnaturally wide as it let out a shriek that tore into Lian's eardrums. He didn't hesitate.
His hands surged with golden-red qi. The Godseed responded instantly, bathing his limbs in radiant heat.
„First Form: Gale Breach!"
His strike landed with force that shattered stone and splintered the creature's ribbed chest. But it didn't die it reformed, threads of darkness stitching it back together.
He backstepped, spinning into a wide arc. „Second Form: Ember Coil!"
This time, the qi crackled through his limbs like lightning. He struck low, sweeping the creature's legs and releasing a burst of fire from his core. The beast shrieked again but this time, it staggered.
The voice inside him stirred louder.
[Synchronization Increased: 14.7%]
[Minor Trait Unlocked: Flame Purge – Deals extra damage to corrupted spiritual entities.]
Lian grinned through grit teeth.
„I'm starting to like this thing."
He fought with renewed vigor now, his movements flowing with unlearned grace. Each strike carried not just physical power, but will a growing understanding that this wasn't borrowed strength. It was his.
The creature shrieked once more, lunging only for Lian to catch its core with both palms.
„Third Form: Cinder Bloom!"
A pulse of explosive qi burst from his chest, enveloping the Wraiththorn in radiant fire. The creature spasmed, howled, and finally cracked down the center. It burst into ash, scattering into the wind.
Lian collapsed to one knee, panting.
Sweat trickled down his brow, but his smile stayed firm.
He had survived.
And for the first time since bonding with the Godseed, he felt like he had done so through his own growth not a miracle, not a gift. A test passed.
Cliffside Overlooking the Valley
Far above, Bai Zhen stood alone at the peak of a ridge, his cloak billowing in the wind.
He watched the glow in the valley begin to dim, signaling the trial's end. His golden eyes narrowed, the Godseed within him pulsing softly.
„He's learning quickly," he murmured. „Perhaps… too quickly."
From the shadows behind him, a voice rasped, „Then shall we remove him now, before the bond deepens?"
Zhen didn't turn. „No. Let him burn. A controlled flame teaches faster than a smothered one."
And silently, the wind carried away his words.
The wind screamed through the narrow chasms of Ashwake Valley, now alive with shifting energies and primal pressure.
Lian Mu moved through it like a shadow with purpose limping slightly, bruised, but still upright.
He had walked deeper into the formation field, past the shattered remains of the Wraiththorn. The earth no longer tried to kill him, but it hadn't grown welcoming either.
The land remained tense, holding its breath.
Up ahead, glowing runes shimmered across a series of black stone pillars arranged in a circle. At their center stood a pedestal carved from obsidian and bone.
Hovering above it was a golden shard of crystal, no larger than a finger, pulsing with slow, rhythmic light. Lian's breath caught.
The shard felt… alive. His Godseed burned warmer in response, the ember within his chest reacting to the proximity of its kin.
As he stepped closer, the air thickened. Not with heat, but weight an intangible pressure pressing down on his soul. It wasn't oppressive. It was… expectant.
The crystal shard pulsed again, brighter this time. A whisper echoed inside his mind.
"To burn is to become. Will you offer more?"
Lian narrowed his eyes. He remembered what Kael had said: "It doesn't force you but if you grow, it grows."
He stepped into the circle.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, the ground lit up with runes, and a dome of translucent fire erupted around him. Not hot but heavy with divine energy.
The golden shard descended slowly, stopping inches from his chest. The whisper returned, louder now, full of layered voices.
"To rise is to surrender. To carry fire is to carry pain. Will you bear it?" Lian didn't flinch.
„I will." The shard flared.
[Godseed Synchronization: 23.2%]
[New Trait Unlocked: Flame Resonance – Increases affinity with sacred fire techniques. Minor passive regeneration.]
A pulse of heat flooded his core. The ember inside him roared into a brighter blaze, and his meridians expanded just slightly almost imperceptibly, but he felt it. As though more of the world had opened to him.
Then came the second pulse. But it wasn't power. It was memory.
Visions struck him like lightning:
A golden city burning in silence…
A figure of flame and shadow walking through shattered palaces…
A thousand kneeling cultivators offering themselves to something blinding…
And a black spear piercing a god's throat.
Then silence. Then cold. Lian fell to his knees.
The dome of fire faded, and the shard crumbled into dust absorbed into his chest, joining the Godseed within.
He sucked in air, hands shaking.
Whatever this thing was whatever the Godseed Flame had once been it had lived and died through countless hands. And now… it had chosen his.
Later That Night Cradle of Echoes
He sat at the edge of the ravine again, watching the stars return one by one.
Kael had returned as promised, wordless but relieved.
They shared no fire. No words. Just silence and exhaustion.
Finally, Kael broke it.
„You survived."
„Barely," Lian muttered.
Kael tossed him a dried fruit from his pack. „That's how all real cultivators start."
Lian chewed slowly, thinking. His body still hummed from the shard. Not with power but with presence. It was like walking beside a storm and knowing, somehow, that it bowed slightly when he passed.
„I saw something," Lian said. „Visions. Of a city. Of… death."
Kael turned slowly. „You saw the First Carrier."
Lian blinked. „The what?"
Kael looked up at the stars, voice heavy.
„The first mortal to ever bond with the Godseed. Centuries ago. Maybe longer. No one knows if he was blessed or cursed. But he tried to challenge heaven itself… and failed."
Lian's brow furrowed. „So why do we keep bonding with it?"
Kael gave a bitter laugh. „Because every time, it chooses someone else. And every time, it whispers the same thing rise. One day, maybe one of us will do what the first couldn't."
Lian looked down at his hands. The calluses, the bruises, the faint golden marks now etched into the lines of his palm.
„Then maybe it's time someone did."
Kael smiled faintly. „That's what they all say."
Final Scene Temple of Flickering Skies
Far from Ashwake Valley, beneath an ancient starlit spire where cloudlight moved like breath, seven figures stood in a circle hooded, motionless.
At the center of the temple, a brazier roared to life, burning with golden flame.
A woman in moon silver robes stepped forward. Her voice was soft, melodic.
„Another one awakens."
The others bowed their heads.
A male voice, low and crackling: „The Cycle stirs again."
Another: „Will this one be different?"
The woman stepped to the flame, lifting a single finger. The flame bent toward her like a living thing.
„The Flame has chosen. And the heavens will answer." As the flame surged high, casting flickering shadows across the runes, the wind whispered a single name.
"Lian Mu."