The tournament hall buzzed with a hundred conversations, a clash of ambition and rivalry. Azure Sky Clan disciples, resplendent in their sapphire robes, jostled for position around the gleaming registration desk. Bai An, however, occupied a quiet corner, a rusted, unassuming longsword strapped to his back, looking as out of place as a pebble on a pearl necklace. His smile, a fixed, almost defiant curve, did little to deter the stares. Five years had passed since frost venom ruined his pathways, turning the clan's brightest prodigy into an object of quiet mockery. “Bai An.” The voice was sharp, cutting through the din like a honed blade. Qiao Lian, his fiancée, stood before him, her silk robes the color of fresh jade, her posture radiating disdain. Her beauty was undeniable, but today, her sharp features were twisted into a sneer that stripped away any softness. Her coterie of disciples, all perfectly coiffed and preening, hovered behind her, their smirks mirroring hers. “Ah, Lian’er! Fancy seeing you here!” Bai An chirped, his smile widening, though his eyes remained carefully neutral. “Are you excited for the tournament? I’ve been practicing my… well, my standing around! You know, in case the Emperor needs someone to look particularly enthusiastic from the sidelines.” A ripple of snickers ran through Qiao Lian’s companions. Qiao Lian herself took a step closer, her gaze sweeping over his slight frame, lingering on the rusted blade. “Enough of your clownish antics, Bai An. This farce has gone on long enough.” Her voice was low, but laced with a venom that made the nearby disciples lean in, eager for the spectacle. Bai An tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Farce? Oh, you mean my participation in the Imperial Ascendancy Tournament? But Lian’er, I’m finally feeling well enough! Elder Kai even said so, just this morning!” He gestured vaguely towards the registration desk, where a small, jade token lay, waiting for his name. Qiao Lian’s hand shot out, snatching the token before he could touch it. “Well enough? You can barely walk without panting, Bai An! You’re a cripple, a blight upon the Azure Sky Clan’s reputation! Do you truly believe you can compete against cultivators who have reached the Fifth Meridian Aperture, when your own cultivation stagnated at the First five years ago?” She clutched the token, her knuckles white. Bai An’s smile didn’t falter, but a faint tremor ran through his hand. “Now, Lian’er, that’s not very encouraging. I always thought you appreciated my… resilience.” “Resilience?” She scoffed, her eyes blazing. “It’s stubborn stupidity! My family will not be shamed by a cripple who insists on making a mockery of our alliance. Withdraw, Bai An. Now. Before you embarrass us all further.” With a dramatic flourish, she flung the jade token. It spun through the air, clattering against the polished stone floor at Bai An’s feet, its smooth surface now marred by a fresh chip. The sound echoed in the sudden silence of the hall. Every gaze was fixed on Bai An, a mixture of pity, scorn, and morbid curiosity. The humiliation was a physical blow, sharper than any fist. It struck at the core of his carefully constructed cheerfulness, ripping a hole in the mask he wore. Then, the cold. Not the chill of the pavilion, but an internal, bone-deep cold, creeping up from his core. The creeping rot of the Bane. It had been five years since its last major flare-up, kept at bay by Elder Kai’s intricate herbal concoctions and Bai An’s own iron will. But Qiao Lian’s words, the public shaming, had been enough. The venom flared without warning. Ice tore through his inner channels like a spray of glass needles. His vision blurred. The grin broke apart. A choked gasp escaped his lips, and he crumpled to his knees, his hands clutching at his chest, desperate to quell the invisible fire and ice consuming him. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle. Sweat beaded on his forehead, cold despite the burning pain. “Bai An!” A distant voice, filled with alarm, cut through the haze. Lin Suyin. But her presence was a fading echo as the world around him dissolved into a swirling vortex of agony. His body seized, convulsing on the cold stone. Darkness encroached, a final, suffocating blanket. He could feel his life force draining, the cold malice taking hold. This was it. The end of the useless optimist, the last flickering ember of the Azure Sky Clan’s forgotten talent. But just as the darkness threatened to consume him entirely, a faint, resonant hum emanated from his back. The rusty, heirloom sword, neglected for years, suddenly pulsed with a deep, obsidian glow. A deep shadow erupted from its hilt, coiling around him like an iron serpent. It offered no cure, but wrenched his consciousness free of his failing flesh. He tumbled through a void, then landed on hard, shimmering ground. Before him stretched an endless expanse of obsidian, dotted with swirling nebulae of violet and emerald. A colossal shard of what looked like solidified shadow, jagged and menacing, dominated the mindscape. It pulsed with an unholy hunger, a silent, ravenous void. From the jagged edge, a figure formed: a towering warrior clad in phantasmal armor. His translucent face carried an old, unforgiving wrath, his stare burning. His voice, when it came, was a thunderous echo that vibrated through Bai An’s very soul. “So, the heir of the Verdant Dawn still draws breath. Barely.” The spirit’s gaze dissected him. “Your channels are cracked, your vital spark fading. A fitting end for one so… weak.” Bai An, despite his ethereal form, felt a surge of indignation. “Who are you? And what… what is this place?” “I am Xun Feng, General of the Dragonscale Legion, and guardian of this Gluttonous Shard,” the figure boomed, his voice laced with aeons of simmering rage. “And this… this is the prison of my vengeance, and now, perhaps, your salvation.” He gestured to the vast, hungry shard. “That Nine Winters blight is a cruel irony. A tool of the Ashen Veil. The same cabal that destroyed my empire, enslaved my people, and trapped my soul inside this relic.” Bai An’s mind reeled. Ashen Veil? The words held a chilling familiarity, whispered warnings from Elder Kai about ancient evils, long dismissed as fables. “Your royal ancestor of the Verdant Dawn sealed me here, hoping to hide this power from the Veil. Now, the Veil hunts her descendants, hunts *you*.” The warrior’s gauntleted fingers closed around empty air, conjuring a phantom sword. “The Shard hungers. It devours the vigor of cultivators and their steel. Feed it the core of your foes' weapons, their secret arts, their pride. In return, I shall patch your channels, grant you the lost arts of my legion, and let you cut down your tormentors. You will survive the frost, and force the elder who crippled you to kneel in the dirt.” The image of Qiao Lian’s sneer, Elder Kai’s benevolent smile, the crushing pain of the Bane, flashed through Bai An’s mind. Vengeance. Power. A cure. The promises were intoxicating, a balm to his shattered pride and dying hope. “What… what must I do?” Bai An’s voice was a ragged whisper, but a clear, cold intent took root behind his ribs. The phantom warrior narrowed his eyes, approving. “Accept the pact. Offer your life, your will, your future to the Shard. Become its vessel, its maw. And then, when you awaken, collect your first offering. Start with that arrogant fiancée of yours. I sense fine ore and cultivation in her weapon.” Bai An looked at the raging general, then at the pulsating shard, then back at the memory of Qiao Lian’s disdain. The choice was not merely survival; it was rebirth. He felt the cold fury ignite within him, burning away the last vestiges of his 'optimist' persona. “I accept,” Bai An declared, his voice firm, echoing across the obsidian expanse. “I accept your pact, General Xun Feng. Let the Gluttonous Shard feast.” Black power surged from the colossal spire, sweeping over Bai An’s spirit. The current felt smooth rather than agonizing, scouring his broken pathways until they locked back into place, broader and harder than before. The frost receded, pinned down by the flood of foreign strength. He felt every nerve, every fiber of his being, sing with renewed vitality. He gasped, his eyes snapping open. He was back in the Azure Sky Clan pavilion, sprawled on stone flags. Surrounding disciples stared down, their snickers cut short. Lin Suyin knelt beside him, her hand outstretched, her expression a mix of terror and relief. Bai An pushed himself up, slowly, his movements fluid and precise. His chest no longer burned, his vision was clear. He felt… invigorated. Powerful. A profound calm settled over him, deeper and more serene than any artificial cheerfulness he had ever worn. He glanced at the rusty sword on his back; it now hummed with a faint, almost imperceptible dark glow. His gaze swept to Qiao Lian. She stood frozen, lips parted, confusion hardening into dread. Her jade token rested in the dust, marking her petty rejection. Bai An bent down, his smile, now genuine in its serenity, playing on his lips. He picked up the token, brushing off the dust. It was still chipped, but now, it felt like a symbol of defiance, not disgrace. He looked directly at Qiao Lian, his eyes gleaming with an unnerving, quiet confidence. “Thank you for reminding me, Lian’er. I almost forgot my entry token.” He paused, letting the silence stretch, letting her fear intensify. “I look forward to our match.”

The Gluttonous Shard