The gongs of the Azure Cloud Sect did not merely ring; they shattered the clouds.
Nine colossal spirit-horned wyverns pulled a chariot of floating white jade through the eastern sky. Trailing behind them were hundreds of inner sect disciples clad in pristine azure robes, their swords drawn and reflecting the morning sun in a dazzling display of martial supremacy. Petals of spirit-infused lotus blossoms rained down upon the outer plaza, releasing a sweet, intoxicating aroma that caused the ambient spiritual energy to surge.
"The Chosen One returns!" an outer disciple screamed, dropping to his knees, his face flushed with fanatical devotion. "Senior Brother Fang has vanquished the Demon Cult of the Blood River!"
"All hail Senior Brother Fang! The future of the Great Azure Realm!"
Lu Chen stood near the edge of the sprawling marble plaza, a worn bamboo broom held loosely in his hands. He wore the coarse, gray robes of the sweeping division, his posture slightly hunched, his face obscured by the grime of a lowly laborer. He looked like exactly what he was supposed to be: a nobody.
But behind the veil of his dull, half-lidded eyes, the Luck-Binding Mirror was spinning furiously.
Lu Chen focused his gaze on the figure standing atop the jade chariot. Fang Tianyou.
The man looked like a descended deity. He wore robes of spun starlight, his long black hair flowing perfectly in the wind. A gentle, benevolent smile graced his handsome features as he waved to the tens of thousands of disciples who worshipped the very ground his shadow touched. The pressure radiating from him was suffocating—the unmistakable, oppressive weight of a half-step Nascent Soul realm expert.
Show me, Lu Chen commanded the artifact in his soul.
The world lost its color, fading into a monochrome gray, save for the auras of Providence.
Instantly, Lu Chen was blinded. The Qi Yun radiating from Fang Tianyou was a terrifying, roaring pillar of solid gold that pierced the very heavens. It was so thick, so impossibly dense, that it formed the illusory shape of a coiled dragon above the chariot. It was a manifestation of pure 'Destiny.' This was a man the world itself had decided could not fail.
But the Mirror had evolved. Since absorbing the dark providence of the ancient entity beneath the Sword Graves, its gaze pierced deeper than mere surface luck.
Lu Chen narrowed his eyes, pushing his Void Sword Intent into the Mirror. "Show me the truth."
The golden light wavered. The illusory dragon began to peel back like rotting skin, revealing the grotesque reality hidden beneath the Heaven's favor.
The brilliant gold was merely a thin shell. Inside the pillar of providence, Lu Chen saw a maelstrom of absolute darkness. It was a churning vortex of screaming, mutilated souls. They were the phantoms of countless 'geniuses' from across the Nine Provinces—young men and women whose destinies had been forcibly extracted, their spiritual roots ripped from their bodies to feed the beast standing on the chariot.
Fang Tianyou wasn't a Child of Heaven. He was a parasite wearing the skin of a god.
And there, floating at the very dead center of that horrific vortex, acting as the anchor that held the stolen providence together, was a flawless, crystal-clear root pulsing with gentle, familiar light.
Lu Chen's breath hitched. A phantom agony tore through his dantian, the exact spot where a ceremonial dagger had been driven into his flesh a year ago.
My Innate Spirit Root.
The anger that flared within Lu Chen was absolute, but it was not hot. It was a freezing, absolute zero wrath that stilled his blood and sharpened his mind. The Azure Cloud Sect, the so-called bastion of righteousness in the Eastern Province, was openly worshipping a cannibal.
"You think you are the Heavens' favorite, Fang Tianyou?" Lu Chen whispered under his breath, his voice devoid of emotion. "You are just a bloated tick. And I am going to pop you."
High above, on the jade chariot, Fang Tianyou's benevolent smile suddenly faltered.
His hand shot up. The nine wyverns roared and slammed their massive wings, halting mid-air. The hundreds of trailing disciples stopped instantly. The deafening cheers of the plaza died in an instant, replaced by a tense, suffocating silence.
"Senior Brother Fang?" an Elder hovering nearby asked, his tone laced with deep respect. "Is something amiss?"
Fang Tianyou ignored him. His eyes, glowing with a faint, stolen light, swept over the sea of thousands of outer disciples.
Thump. Thump.
Lu Chen felt it. The stolen Spirit Root inside Fang Tianyou was resonating with his own flesh. The connection, though severed by the betrayal, still held a karmic thread. Fang Tianyou had sensed the pulse of the true owner.
"He is here," Fang Tianyou murmured, his voice echoing across the plaza like rolling thunder.
The Elder frowned. "Who, Senior Brother?"
"The rat who destroyed Elder Mo's laboratory," Fang Tianyou lied smoothly, though his eyes burned with a paranoid, predatory intensity. "The one who harbors dark arts. I can smell his filth within our sect's borders."
Panic rippled through the crowd. Outer disciples began to look at one another with suspicion and fear.
Lu Chen didn't move a muscle. He didn't look down, nor did he look away. He merely breathed in, letting his Void Sword Intent wash over his entire existence.
I am nothing, Lu Chen told the universe. I am the space between the stars. I am the silence between the notes.
His presence vanished from the karmic tapestry. The Luck-Binding Mirror swallowed his meager aura entirely, leaving behind an absolute void.
Fang Tianyou's sweeping gaze passed over Lu Chen's sector. The pressure of a half-step Nascent Soul crashed down, forcing dozens of disciples to their knees, vomiting blood. The pressure washed over Lu Chen, but it found no purchase. It was like a tidal wave crashing against an empty shore.
Fang Tianyou's brow furrowed. He stared directly at the patch of gray robes where Lu Chen stood, his eyes narrowing.
Lu Chen held his gaze, perfectly playing the part of a terrified, trembling sweeper. He let his knees buckle slightly, joining the others on the ground.
After three agonizingly long seconds, Fang Tianyou looked away.
"Seal the sect," Fang Tianyou commanded, his voice cold and commanding. "Activate the Azure Heaven Formation. No one enters, no one leaves. Find the rat who desecrated Elder Mo's sanctum. I will personally extract his soul for interrogation."
"Yes, Senior Brother!" the Enforcers roared in unison.
As the chariot began to move again, Lu Chen focused the Mirror on the Fate Panel hovering above Fang Tianyou's head. He needed to know what the 'Chosen One' was planning next.
The golden text rippled into existence:
[Name]: Fang Tianyou
[Cultivation]: Half-Step Nascent Soul
[Providence]: Blinding Sun (Stolen/Parasitic)
[Recent Heavenly Opportunity]: In three days, when the Azure Heaven Formation aligns with the lunar eclipse, he will enter the Forbidden Vault to absorb the [Azure Dragon Marrow], a primordial treasure that will stabilize his stolen talents and guarantee a flawless breakthrough to the Nascent Soul realm.
Lu Chen's lips twitched upward into a microscopic, terrifying smile.
The Azure Dragon Marrow. A flawless breakthrough.
Lu Chen closed his eyes, sensing the chaotic, dark, cursed luck he had absorbed from the ancient entity in the Sword Graves, currently stored within the Mirror's second chamber. He could transfer this curse. He could inject pure misfortune directly into Fang Tianyou's golden path.
If Fang Tianyou attempted to absorb the Dragon Marrow while infected with the Abyss's curse... it wouldn't just fail. It would detonate his meridians from the inside out.
Lu Chen stood up slowly, dusting off his coarse robes. The crowd was still chaotic, disciples scrambling to form inspection lines as the Enforcers descended. It was the perfect time to slip away and prepare his sabotage.
He turned toward the narrow alleyways leading back to the outer servant quarters.
But just as he stepped into the shadows of an archway, a hand shot out from the dark, her fingers like iron talons, gripping his wrist with terrifying strength.
A scent hit his nose. Spirit-lotus mixed with the faint, metallic tang of blood.
Lu Chen's blood turned to ice.
"Your disguise is flawless, Chen Lu," a woman's voice whispered directly into his ear, dripping with venomous familiarity and twisted affection. "Even Tianyou couldn't see you standing right in front of him."
From the shadows stepped Lin Mengyao. She wore the luxurious purple robes of an Inner Sect Elite, her beauty as breathtaking and sharp as a poisoned blade. But her eyes were dilated, swirling with a sick, parasitic golden light that was desperately trying to latch onto Lu Chen.
She leaned in, her lips brushing against his jawline.
"But a parasite always knows the taste of its favorite host," she purred. "Welcome back from the dead... Lu Chen."