“Accelerate it. Just a little. For my glory.”
The words, barely a whisper in the echoing grand hall, resonated with the chilling clarity of a death knell. He Jian’s face, projected in the ethereal starlight above him, contorted in that avaricious smile, etched itself into the minds of every spectator. The shadowy tendril retracted, the crimson vial vanished, and the vision dissolved like smoke, leaving only a stunned silence.
Then, the roar came. Not from the crowd, but from Duke Rylan Jian. A guttural sound of pure, unbridled fury that seemed to shake the very foundations of Jade Mountain itself. “He Jian!” The Duke’s voice, usually calm and calculating, was now a thunderclap, vibrating with an intensity that threatened to shatter the spirit rings of those nearby. “You… you have defiled our lineage! You have endangered Lady Xiang An! My son, you are a disgrace!”
He Jian, released from the ritual’s hold, collapsed to his knees, his face ashen, eyes wide and unfocused, muttering denials that were drowned out by the rising crescendo of gasps and murmurs. The crowd erupted, a cacophony of outrage and disbelief. Nobles shouted accusations, guards drew blades, their movements clumsy in the sudden chaos. Some pointed at He Jian, others at me, though the focus of their rage had definitively shifted.
My primary concern remained Lady Xiang An. Her eyes, fixed on the dissolving vision, held a complex mix of sorrow, betrayal, and a deep, crushing weariness. Her usually vibrant azure spirit ring flickered erratically, its glow dimming, a sign the revelation had taken a severe toll on her already frail constitution.
“The girl,” I stated, my voice cutting through a momentary lull in the clamor, directed at Grandmaster Feng who stood utterly frozen, his jaw slack, his face a canvas of profound shock. “She needs to leave. Now.”
He snapped out of his stupor, his gaze darting between the disgraced He Jian, the enraged Duke, and the flickering aura around Xiang An. “But… the Duke…”
“The Duke is preoccupied with his spawn’s idiocy,” I deadpanned, already moving. Pangzi, sensing the shift, chittered excitedly from my shoulder, its whiskers twitching towards a dimly lit alcove behind the judge’s dais. “His wrath provides cover. Follow me.”
I grabbed Lady Xiang An’s arm, her skin cold to the touch. She offered no resistance, her gaze distant, lost in the implications of He Jian’s betrayal. Grandmaster Feng, after a moment’s hesitation that cost him a valuable second of breath, scrambled after us, his usually dignified steps replaced by an undignified shuffle.
“Where are we going?” he wheezed, as I tugged Xiang An into the shadowed alcove, an abandoned service corridor for the cleaning staff, reeking of dust and disuse. “This is a dead end!”
“Only to the uninitiated,” I replied, pushing aside a moldering wool curtain that concealed a rough-hewn corridor entrance. Pangzi immediately dove into the dark opening, its tiny paws kicking up plumes of ancient dirt. “The Celestial Anchor is not an object, but a nexus. It’s the heart of this peak. And it’s not found in any grand hall, but in the depths, where the stone’s true power resides.”
Just as we squeezed into the narrow corridor, a colossal tremor shook the entire structure. Dust rained down, dislodging loose stones from the vault overhead. A distant roar, unmistakably Duke Rylan’s, vibrated through the rock.
“He’s truly furious,” Grandmaster Feng muttered, scrambling to keep up, nearly tripping over a loose rock. “Such rage could destabilize the entire peak!”
“Precisely,” I said, shielding Xiang An as a shower of pebbles cascaded down. Her body felt heavier in my grip, her steps faltering. “Hold tight. The path ahead is… less than stable.”
The subterranean shaft twisted and turned, descending sharply into Jade Mountain's core. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—a faint, yet undeniable, hum of raw, untamed energy. Pangzi, leading the way, occasionally paused, sniffing at cracks in the rock, its tail twitching like a divining rod.
Another violent lurch. The ground beneath our feet bucked, and a section of the stone wall groaned, then gave way with a deafening crack. A cascade of earth and rubble poured behind us, sealing off our escape route. Ahead, a large rock detached from the ceiling, plunging towards Xiang An.
I reacted instinctively, pushing her out of the way, taking the brunt of the impact on my shoulder. A sharp pain lanced through me, but I ignored it. Her life was the deadline, not my comfort. Grandmaster Feng, despite his age, moved with surprising agility, using a quick burst of his own cultivation to stabilize a crumbling section of the ceiling.
“This is madness!” he gasped, his face streaked with dust. “No one has ventured this deep in centuries! These corridors are unstable, abandoned!”
“Neglected by man, perhaps, but not by the bedrock itself,” I countered, pulling Xiang An deeper. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The faint crimson aura around her was now more pronounced, a terrible red stain spreading across her skin.
“It’s worsening,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rumbling. Her hand clutched mine, her grip surprisingly strong. “Shen Luan… what are you truly doing for me?”
“I’m giving you a choice,” I said, my gaze fixed on the path ahead, on Pangzi, who had now stopped, its little nose pressed against a colossal, pulsating fissure in the rock. “A way to live, without bringing about the end of everything else.”
We emerged into a vast cavern, not glorious or decorated, but raw, primal. The air here thrummed with overwhelming power, so potent it made the hair on my arms stand on end. In the center, dominating the space, was a colossal, crystalline structure. It wasn’t shining or pristine, but dark, jagged, and faintly luminous with an internal, pulsing glow of deep amber and jade. It was roughly heart-shaped, veined with intricate patterns like petrified arteries, radiating an immense, ancient force. The petrified heart of the celestial beast that had become this towering range.
This was it. The Celestial Anchor.
“This… this is a living relic,” Grandmaster Feng breathed, awe replacing all fear in his expression. “Impossible! They said it was merely a myth!”
“Myths are often just neglected truths,” I replied, my eyes scanning the heart, calculating the energy flow. “This heart anchored the beast’s essence, and in turn, these cliffs, to this realm. Its power is pure, untainted by the Void Maw. It’s the only way.”
I turned to Xiang An, my expression grim. “To sever the link between your curse and the cosmic seal, I must channel my life force into this heart. It will act as a conduit, drawing out the Void’s influence without impacting the larger barrier. But the cost…” I paused, meeting her gaze. “It will drain me. Completely. I will become a true mortal. Talentless. Powerless. Everything He Jian accused me of being, I will become, permanently.”
Her eyes, filled with unshed tears, searched mine. “You would give up everything… for me?”
“It’s a small price to pay for the world, and your life,” I said, my voice firm. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, a single tear tracing a path down her dust-smudged cheek. “Yes.”
I placed my hand on the rough, cool surface of the petrified heart, feeling the immense power thrumming beneath my palm. It felt like touching the core of existence itself. I closed my eyes, focusing my will, preparing to open the floodgates of my essence, to sacrifice the last vestiges of my Divine Physician’s power.
Just as I began the ritual, a chill tightened across my ribs. The hum of the heart faltered. From a deep fissure in the cavern floor, a tendril of absolute darkness, thick and sinuous, erupted like a serpent from the earth. It pulsed with an alien malevolence, a fragment of the Void Maw itself, drawn by the sudden surge of power. And it lunged, not for me, but for the weakened, fragile form of Lady Xiang An.