The air in the subterranean cavern grew so heavy it felt like breathing liquid lead.
Ye Xiyue lay on the cold stone, her usually serene face contorted in abject terror. Her 'Heart of the Sword'—a constitution that granted her unparalleled spiritual clarity—was currently her greatest curse. She could feel the sheer, oppressive weight of the entity rising from the abyss.
It was not a beast of flesh and blood. It was a towering amalgamation of rusted swords, shattered halberds, and the coagulated despair of ten thousand failed cultivators. A stagnant, pitch-black aura of Providence oozed from its form, an ancient grudge that had festered since the Great Celestial Sunder.
"The Void..." The entity's voice was the grinding of rusted metal. Its hollow sockets, burning with ghostly blue flames, locked onto Lu Chen. "The Sovereign... has returned..."
"Lu... run..." Ye Xiyue gasped, her voice barely a whisper before her eyes rolled back. The sheer pressure of the ancient entity's aura forced her into unconsciousness.
Lu Chen didn't run. He stood over her unconscious form, his expression as placid as a frozen lake. He didn't see a monster; he saw a feast.
This thing has no future, Lu Chen thought, his eyes narrowing. It is pure, concentrated stagnation. The dead ends of a thousand destinies.
Deep within his sea of consciousness, the Luck-Binding Mirror began to tremble. It had never reacted with such violence. The artifact spun, its cracked bronze surface heating up as it resonated with the colossal, dark Providence radiating from the entity.
Suddenly, a blinding light erupted in his mind. The Mirror's cracked bronze rim shattered, peeling away to reveal a pristine, dark-silver edge that devoured the surrounding light.
[Providence Saturation Reached.]
[Luck-Binding Mirror: Second Form Unlocked.]
[New Authority Granted: Destiny Inversion — The Transfer of Misfortune.]
Lu Chen's lips curled into a predatory smirk. Until now, he could only take. He could strip a genius of their Heavenly Opportunities and absorb their golden Qi Yun. But now... he could give. He could weaponize the stagnant, cursed luck he couldn't digest and force it onto someone else.
The ancient entity raised a colossal arm made of jagged blades, preparing to crush him.
Lu Chen raised his hand, his Void Sword Intent swirling around his fingers like a miniature black hole. "You recognize your Sovereign?" he whispered, his voice laced with freezing authority. "Then offer your tribute."
He activated the Mirror. A vortex of dark silver light shot from his palm, piercing the entity's core. The towering monstrosity froze. The pitch-black, cursed Providence that had sustained it for millennia was violently ripped from its form and sucked into the Luck-Binding Mirror.
"No... NO!" the entity shrieked, its body crumbling as the conceptual glue holding it together vanished. Rust cascaded like rain. In seconds, the terrifying ancient remnant was reduced to a harmless mound of oxidized metal.
Lu Chen let out a shaky breath, feeling the heavy, suffocating mass of "Misfortune" now stored within the Mirror. It was a volatile payload of bad luck, just waiting to be unleashed.
Before he could celebrate, the cavern ceiling groaned. A massive explosion of Sword Intent blasted through the bedrock above, showering the underground chamber with debris.
They're here, Lu Chen thought. He quickly withdrew his Void Intent, slumping his shoulders and adopting the terrified, trembling demeanor of 'Chen Lu', the lowly sweeper disciple.
Three figures descended through the newly formed hole, riding on flying swords. At the helm was Elder Mo of the Azure Cloud Sect's Alchemy Pavilion. The man was gaunt, with skin like yellowed parchment and eyes that darted with paranoid greed. He smelled strongly of sulfur and rotting spirit herbs.
"The Saintess!" One of the enforcers gasped, rushing to Ye Xiyue's side. "She's unconscious, but her pulse is steady."
Elder Mo's gaze, however, swept past the Saintess and locked onto the mound of rusted swords, and then, onto Lu Chen. The elder's eyes narrowed. He could sense the residual, potent energy of the ancient entity clinging to the boy's clothes.
"You," Elder Mo barked, pointing a skeletal finger at Lu Chen. "An outer disciple? What happened here?"
"I... I don't know, Elder!" Lu Chen stammered, falling to his knees and shaking perfectly. "We fell... a monster appeared... and then it just collapsed!"
Elder Mo's eyes glinted with malicious calculation. He saw no golden Qi Yun around Lu Chen—just an ordinary, unremarkable mortal aura. But the boy had been exposed to the pure, ancient sword yin of the abyss. To an alchemist, Lu Chen wasn't a disciple; he was a walking, talking spirit herb perfectly marinated in ancient energy.
"The residual miasma of the Sword Graves has infected this boy's meridians," Elder Mo declared smoothly. "If left unchecked, he will turn into a mindless fiend. Bring the Saintess to the Healing Peak. I shall take this disciple to my laboratory to... cleanse him."
The enforcers bowed, unquestioning. Lu Chen kept his head down, hiding the cold, murderous glint in his eyes. Cleanse me? You want to refine me into a pill, you old dog. Perfect. I needed a guinea pig.
***
The Alchemy Pavilion was a sprawling complex carved into the side of a volcanic peak. Elder Mo's private laboratory sat at the very top, a large, circular stone chamber dominated by a massive, three-legged bronze furnace that radiated blistering heat. The shelves lining the walls were crammed with jars of preserved beast organs, rare roots, and pulsating crystal cores.
Elder Mo hurled Lu Chen to the floor. With a flick of his wrist, he activated a containment array. Four pillars of crimson light shot up around Lu Chen, locking him in place.
"Don't struggle, boy," Elder Mo sneered, turning his back to prepare his ingredients. He tossed a handful of Fire Lotus seeds into the furnace. The flames roared, turning a sickly green. "You should be honored. Your mediocre life will contribute to a Heaven-Tier longevity pill for this Elder. Your flesh has absorbed the ancient yin of the graves. Once I melt your marrow..."
Lu Chen didn't bother listening to the villainous monologue. He focused his inner sight, invoking the Luck-Binding Mirror to observe Elder Mo's Fate Panel.
[Target: Mo Qian]
[Cultivation: Late Golden Core]
[Qi Yun: Sickly Yellow (Deteriorating)]
[Recent Destiny: Planning to refine a human cauldron to extend his lifespan by fifty years. Success rate: 40%.]
Sickly yellow, Lu Chen mused. You're already walking on thin ice with the Heavens, old man. Let's see what happens when the ice breaks.
Lu Chen stopped trembling. He stood up straight within the crimson containment array, his posture shifting from a cowering rat to a coiled viper.
"Elder Mo," Lu Chen said, his voice completely devoid of fear.
Mo paused, turning around with a frown. "What did you—"
"I have a gift for you," Lu Chen interrupted. In his sea of consciousness, the dark-silver rim of the Mirror flared to life. He tapped into the reservoir of pure Misfortune he had extracted from the ancient entity.
"Destiny Inversion," Lu Chen whispered.
A stream of invisible, pitch-black energy shot from Lu Chen's chest, completely bypassing the physical containment array, and slammed into Elder Mo's Fate Panel.
Lu Chen watched as the elder's sickly yellow Qi Yun was instantly swallowed by an inky, suffocating blackness. It was the purest manifestation of Heavenly condemnation. The ancient entity's thousand years of cursed luck had just been deposited into Mo Qian's lap.
Elder Mo blinked, rubbing his chest. He felt a sudden, inexplicable chill, but shook his head. "Insolent brat. I'll cut out your tongue first."
He turned back to the furnace and channeled his Golden Core Qi to increase the heat.
That was when the Misfortune took effect.
Crack.
A small jade vial on the top shelf, vibrating from the furnace's roar, shimmied over the edge and shattered on the floor. It contained the volatile blood of a Thunder-Horned Python.
The blood splattered onto a discarded low-grade spirit stone.
Fizz. A spark jumped.
Elder Mo cursed and stomped on the spark, but his foot slipped on the slick blood. His knee buckled, and he slammed heavily into the side of the bronze furnace.
The impact jarred the furnace's internal array. The green spiritual flames sputtered, turning a violent, unstable purple.
"What in the hells?!" Elder Mo panicked, rushing to form hand seals to stabilize the pressure. But as he channeled his Qi, his meridians—which hadn't acted up in a decade—suddenly seized with a violent cramp. His Qi flowed backward. He spat a mouthful of blood directly onto the furnace's cooling runes.
The runes hissed and melted.
The massive bronze cauldron began to bulge, groaning like a dying beast. The pressure inside was multiplying exponentially.
Lu Chen watched the slapstick comedy of errors unfold with cold detachment. So this is the power of Misfortune. It doesn't strike you with lightning; it turns the world against you, manipulating every variable until catastrophe is mathematically guaranteed.
"No, no, no! My life's work!" Elder Mo screamed, desperately throwing defensive artifacts at the furnace, but they all inexplicably failed, shattered, or bounced off.
Lu Chen calmly raised his hand. A thin, imperceptible blade of Void Sword Intent sliced through the weakened crimson containment array. He stepped out of the light.
"Enjoy your longevity, Elder," Lu Chen said softly.
He turned and casually walked toward the heavy stone doors, his Void Intent wrapping around him like a cloak, making him practically invisible. He slipped out into the corridor just as the furnace reached critical mass.
BOOM!
The explosion was deafening. It wasn't just the furnace; the blast ignited the hundreds of volatile ingredients lining the laboratory walls. A pillar of purple fire erupted from the Alchemy Peak, shattering the stone roof and sending a shockwave rippling across the Azure Cloud Sect.
The heavy stone doors blew off their hinges, flying past Lu Chen as he calmly descended the mountain steps, blending into the rising panic of the outer disciples who were rushing out of their dormitories to see the fireworks.
Behind him, the laboratory was a smoking crater. Elder Mo, if he survived, would be nothing more than a charred husk with a ruined cultivation base.
Lu Chen touched his chest, feeling the smooth warmth of the Luck-Binding Mirror. I can steal the Heavens' favor, and I can bestow its wrath. I am no longer just a parasite. I am the arbiter.
***
Ten minutes later, the dust was still settling over the ruins of the Alchemy Peak. Sect Enforcers swarmed the area, throwing water-aspected talismans into the lingering purple flames.
From the night sky, a figure descended like a descending god. Fang Tianyou landed at the edge of the crater, his pristine white robes immaculate, his handsome face marred by a deep, unsettling scowl.
He ignored the coughing, half-dead form of Elder Mo being pulled from the rubble. Instead, Fang Tianyou stepped into the epicenter of the blast. He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of ozone and burnt herbs.
Suddenly, Fang Tianyou clutched his chest. Beneath his sternum, the Innate Spirit Root—the flawless, heaven-defying talent he had ripped from Lu Chen's body years ago—throbbed violently. It was a sensation of absolute terror, a primal recognition of its original master.
Fang Tianyou opened his eyes. The golden Qi Yun surrounding him flickered defensively. He could sense it. Beneath the smell of sulfur and smoke, there was a complete absence of energy. A localized void.
It was the exact same signature he had felt at the canyon. The same signature from the ruined street.
Fang Tianyou's fists clenched so hard his knuckles popped. His charismatic facade melted away, revealing the paranoid usurper beneath.
"He's here," Fang Tianyou murmured to the empty night, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and dread. "Lu Chen... you're actually here."