The Azure Cloud Sect was a labyrinth of stone and secrets, but to Han Feng, it had become something else entirely: a giant, hollow shell waiting for a voice to speak through it. He sat in the darkness of a forgotten maintenance shaft, his body unnaturally still, his breathing shallow and rhythmic. His skin had returned to a more natural tone, but his eyes remained deep, steady, and terrifyingly clear. He wasn't just hiding; he was performing.The Great Elder was a master of presence. For centuries, he had controlled the sect through fear, a specific, icy frequency of authority that hung in the air of every hallway and chamber. The elite squads, the Shadow-Guards, and the sect’s high-ranking stewards had all been trained to recognize that frequency, the Voice of the Summit. They obeyed it without question, like loyal dogs responding to a master’s whistle.Han Feng closed his eyes. He reached into the memories he had harvested from the mountain, searching for the specific cadence of

The vault was very quiet. It was too quiet. Han Feng sat on the cold floor. The floor was made of black glass. It was smooth, but it was also very hard. He could see his own face in the glass. He looked thin. He looked pale. His eyes had small, silver lines in them, like cracks in a window. Inside his chest, the Stone Heart was beating. It did not sound like a human heart. It went thump, thump, thump, slow and heavy, like a big drum deep inside the earth.He was trying to rest. His body was very tired. His bones felt heavy, like they were made of iron. The "Copper Skin" was gone now, but his skin still felt tight. He could feel the power of the mountain inside his bones. It was a good power, but it was also a scary power. It wanted to take over. It wanted him to stop being a boy. It wanted him to be a stone."I am Han Feng," he whispered to the dark. His voice was small. It did not echo. "I am a boy. I am not the rock."He closed his eyes. He tried to think of his father. He tried t

The black glass floor began to groan. It did not crack from a vibration; it groaned from the sheer weight of the Elder's presence.This was the Sky-Realm cultivation. It was a level of power Han Feng had never felt before. It was the power of the masters who ruled the First Heaven."You think you are strong because you can shake some stones," the Elder’s voice was different now. It was louder. It did not sound like it came from his mouth; it sounded like it came from the air itself. "But the sky is always above the mountain."The Elder moved.Han Feng did not see him move. He was not like a stone that had to run. He was like the wind. One second he was ten feet away, and the next second he was right in front of Han Feng.His white robes fluttered.Han Feng tried to raise his arms to protect his head, but his body was too slow. It was like trying to move through thick mud. His "Nerve Sight" was still blind, so he could not predict where the strike would land.The Elder did not use his

Han Feng felt a great fear. It was the fear of a boy who is drowning. He wanted to scream, but he had no air. He pulled himself again. Scrape. Two inches. His legs were like dead wood. They did not feel like his legs anymore. They were cold. They were heavy. They just dragged behind him like two logs. He had to do all the work with his elbows and his bleeding hands.He thought of his father. He remembered when he was a little boy. His father had taken him to the river. Han Feng had fallen into the cold water. He had been very scared. He had thought he was going to die. But his father had reached down. His father’s hands were big and warm. He had pulled Han Feng out of the water.“You are strong, Feng, " his father had said. He had wrapped a warm blanket around the boy’s shoulders. “The earth does not let go of its children. You must always stand up.”"I am trying, Father," Han Feng whispered in his mind.But his father was not here. His father was dust. The sect had killed him. The

The surge of blue light from the vein in the wall did not last. It had been a quick fire. It had given Han Feng the strength to stand up, to breathe, and to think. But as he took three steps down the dark hallway, the fire began to dieHis golden eyes flickered. The bright gold became a dull, dirty yellow, then a pale grey. His hands, which had looked like smooth, black glass, began to peel. The obsidian skin turned into dry crust. Under the crust, the grey flesh was still soft. It was still wet. The Void-Rot was still there.The poison was not just a spiritual energy. It was an alchemical poison. It was a physical acid made of dead iron and dark herbs. The blue energy from the mountain vein had stopped the pain for a minute, but it could not rebuild what was already gone. It could not make a new lung. It could not make a new stomach.Han Feng fell to his knees. His knees hit the hard dirt of the floor. He coughed. It was a terrible, wet cough. He did not just cough up black blood th