The altar room on the third floor of the ancient pagoda was enveloped in an atmosphere of absolute reverence. There were no weapons, no ancient texts. There was only a stone altar bearing two offerings steeped in the very soul of an agrarian civilization: the square bánh chưng, green as leaves, representing the vast Mother Earth; and the round bánh dày, white as glutinous rice, representing the clear Heavens above. A warm aura of abundance permeated every inch of the room.
The final door of light, shimmering with the golden hue of the earth, stood silently, bearing the ultimate question—a trial testing the heart of a sovereign ruler.
"The will of unity can conquer natural disasters. The courage of the populace can repel foreign invaders. But to build a realm of peace and prosperity, one requires the heart of an emperor who honors his roots. Tell me, of the two cakes offered by Lang Lieu, which is the most precious?"
Old Kinh stared at the two cakes, profound contemplation etching deep into his single eye. This was an incredibly thorny question. Heaven and Earth—which was more important?
"The square cake of Earth," he murmured. "It is made of glutinous rice, mung beans, pork... the very bounty nurtured by the soil itself. It symbolizes agriculture, the foundation of prosperity for the common people. An emperor must take the people as his root. Perhaps, the Earth cake is the most precious."
It was a perfectly logical answer, one that any wise and benevolent king would applaud.
Yet Tran Kien, once again, shook his head.
He was no longer a youth who only knew how to wield brute strength. Having weathered countless trials, devoured thousands of ancient tomes, and inherited a fraction of the Dragon Vein, his mindset had ascended to a higher plane. He no longer looked merely at the surface meaning.
"No, Elder," Tran Kien said. His voice had lost its martial edge, replaced by a deep, resonant empathy. "If we choose one over the other, we have already lost."
He stepped forward, standing directly before the door of light.
"Respected Ancestor," he projected his voice toward the ancient query. "The square cake symbolizes Earth—the foundation, the root, the warmth and satiety of the hundreds of clans. The round cake symbolizes Heaven—the boundless expanse, the Heavenly Dao, the divine mandate and legitimacy of a sovereign. To ask whether Heaven or Earth is more precious is akin to asking whether a father or a mother is more important."
"Without Earth, Heaven is merely a void. Without Heaven, Earth is but chaotic formlessness. These two cannot be separated. They complement one another, harmonizing to forge a complete universe."
"Lang Lieu offering the two cakes," he continued, the enlightenment gleaned from the familiar folktale now refined into his personal philosophy of the Dao, "was not meant to force the Hung King to make a choice. It was an offering of a philosophy of governance. An emperor must 'Revere Heaven and Love the People.' He must look up to the Heavens to follow the Great Dao and maintain his righteous mandate. Simultaneously, he must look down to the Earth to nurture the prosperity of the common people. Only when Heaven and Earth are in harmony, when Yin and Yang are in perfect balance, can a nation truly experience peace and prosperity."
"Therefore," Tran Kien bowed deeply, his voice overflowing with veneration, "the most precious thing is neither the square cake nor the round cake. It is the filial piety, the wisdom to comprehend the Heavenly Dao and Earthly Laws, and the heart that honors the agrarian roots of Lang Lieu when he crafted those two offerings. That, and that alone, is the most unshakeable foundation of a nation and a civilization!"
The instant Tran Kien's final words hung in the air...
The entire altar room erupted with a brilliant, blinding golden light. The Shamanic script upon the door of light morphed into the phantom image of Lang Lieu respectfully offering the two cakes to the Hung King, before dissolving entirely into the void.
The final door had opened.
Old Kinh stood frozen, his heart filled with nothing but the absolute pinnacle of admiration. This youth had truly peered into the very "Soul" of the legacy.
Together, they crossed the threshold of the final door, ascending to the fourth floor.
The fourth floor.
The space here was not large. It was merely a simple, unadorned stone chamber. Right in the center rested a stone table. And upon that table, there was only one item.
An old wooden box. It showed no signs of decay and exuded a rich, refreshing fragrance of sandalwood.
Tran Kien stepped forward carefully. He could feel it—the resonance of the legacy fragments within his body were all pointing directly toward this box.
He gently opened it.
Inside, there were no secret cultivation manuals, nor were there peerless divine weapons. There was only a single seed.
A jet-black seed, the size of a thumb. Across its husk ran natural, golden veins that formed the ancient character for "TRANSMISSION" (Truyền). This seed emanated no spiritual energy, yet it harbored a surging, unimaginably potent life force. It felt as though, should it be planted into the earth, it could instantly sprout into a towering World Tree that pierced the heavens.
Beside the seed lay a piece of beast-skin parchment bearing one final line of Shamanic script. This time, Tran Kien did not need to read it; the characters automatically dissolved into divine intent, flowing directly into his mind.
"Descendant, if you are able to read these words, it proves you have conquered every trial and truly inherited the 'Soul' of the Lac Viet. The power of the Lac Viet Heavenly Cycle Array is immense, but it is a double-edged sword. Used for benevolence, it can protect a nation. Used for malice, it can annihilate the world under heaven. I am not passing down to you the method to completely control it."
"Instead, I bestow upon you this seed. This is the 'Seed of Legacy', condensed from the entirety of the life force and enlightenment of the final Shamans. It contains no destructive power; it contains the power of 'Creation'."
"Take it. Plant it into the 'heart of the dragon'. It will not merely heal the wounds of the Dragon Veins, but it will help you truly fuse with the legacy, allowing you to forge a brand-new path, a brand-new array formation that belongs entirely to you, belonging to your own era."
"Our mission has concluded. The path ahead... you must walk alone."
Tran Kien silently folded the beast-skin parchment. He carefully picked up the Seed of Legacy.
He understood now. His ancestors did not want him to become a mere copy, a replication of the past. They wanted him to become a pioneer. A founder.
He and Old Kinh did not linger. They returned to the first floor and exited the pagoda.
The moment they stepped out, the majestic nine-story stone pagoda, having fulfilled its millennial purpose, began to tremble. It did not collapse. Slowly, slowly... it sank deep into the earth, vanishing without a trace, as if it had never existed in this world.
All that remained was an empty courtyard, and a path leading forward.
The path leading to the peak of Flame Mountain. The resting place of the true tomb of the prince. And the very place where the seed of a new future would be planted.