Rise of the Forsaken Immortal

Chapter 2: The Thing That Heaven Noticed

The screaming did not stop. It multiplied. “What’s happening to him?!”

“My qi— it’s leaking!”

“Someone call an elder!”

Ken stood in the rain as the outer disciple convulsed on the stone path, clutching his abdomen. Spiritual light flickered wildly around the boy before collapsing inward like a snuffed candle.

Ken stared at his own hands. “I didn’t touch him…”

Another thread, thin, silver, drifted toward Ken’s chest. He stumbled back. “No.”

The strand pierced his dantian. Warmth surged through him. His meridians pulsed, not in pain this time, but in hunger.

Across the courtyard, three disciples recoiled. “It’s him!”

“He did something!”

“He’s cursed!”

Ken’s voice came out hoarse. “I didn’t.”

The convulsing disciple went still. Not dead. But empty. His cultivation aura had vanished. Footsteps thundered from the inner compound.

Elder Mo Yan appeared beneath the eaves, eyes blazing. “What disturbance dares interrupt this elder’s meditation?”

His gaze swept the courtyard. It stopped on Ken. On the collapsed disciple. On the faint ripple of unstable spiritual energy still lingering in the air.

Mo Yan’s voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “Explain.”

The three witnesses immediately pointed. “It was Ken!”

“He stood there, and Senior Brother Zhao just, just collapsed!”

“His qi drained like water through sand!”

Mo Yan’s stare sharpened. Ken forced himself to breathe evenly. “I don’t know what happened.”

The elder stepped closer. Rain avoided his robes, parting inches before touching him. “You were declared incapable of circulating qi this morning.”

“Yes.”

“And yet,” Mo Yan said softly, “there is spiritual turbulence around you.”

Ken felt it too. Something coiled beneath his skin. Hungry. Unstable. “I was meditating,” Ken replied carefully. A lie, but not entirely.

Mo Yan extended two fingers and pressed them against Ken’s forehead. “Do not resist.”

Ken didn’t. Spiritual sense invaded him. Cold. Probing. Searching for cracks. For abnormalities. For secrets. Ken felt the Heavenfall Root react.

It did not shrink. It did not hide. It reached. A pulse surged through him. Mo Yan’s eyes widened. He jerked his hand back. “What”

For the briefest second, Ken saw it: A thin, pale thread extending from Elder Mo Yan’s chest. Bright. Stable. Heavy with accumulated fate.

The Heavenfall Root trembled. It wanted it. Ken staggered, gripping his own wrist. Stop. “Elder?” one disciple whispered.

Mo Yan’s composure returned instantly. His gaze became colder than before. “There is no spiritual root within him.”

Murmurs rippled. “But,” Mo Yan continued, eyes narrowing, “there is something else.”

Ken swallowed. “What do you mean?”

The elder leaned in. “Your dantian is… hollow.”

Ken’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. “Hollow?”

“Not broken,” Mo Yan murmured. “Not sealed. Empty.”

A pause. “As if something devoured what should exist.”

The word hung in the air. Devoured. Ken forced a confused expression. “I don’t understand.”

Mo Yan studied him for a long moment. Then he turned to the collapsed disciple. “Carry him to the infirmary. If his qi does not return by dawn, report to me.”

Two disciples hurried forward. As they lifted Zhao’s limp body, Mo Yan’s voice cut sharply across the rain. “Ken.”

Ken straightened. “You will report to my pavilion tomorrow at sunrise.”

“For what reason?”

Mo Yan’s smile was thin. “To determine whether your continued existence benefits this sect.”

The meaning was clear. This was no longer about servant labor. This was about elimination. Ken bowed stiffly. “Yes, Elder.”

Mo Yan’s gaze lingered one final second before he vanished in a blur of movement. The courtyard emptied slowly, whispers trailing behind. “Something’s wrong with him…”

“Did you see the elder pull back?”

“Don’t get close.”

Ken remained alone again. His hands trembled. Not from fear. From sensation. The Heavenfall Root churned inside him. It had tasted fate.

And it wanted more. Back in his room, Ken shut the door and pressed his back against it. “Explain,” he whispered.

Silence. Then the faint glow of the jade pendant returned. “You survived your first feeding.”

Ken’s jaw tightened. “You said I could devour destiny. Not drain people like livestock.”

“Destiny resides within living vessels.”

“You made me a parasite.”

A low chuckle echoed. “I made you capable.”

Ken paced the small room. “That disciple, will he recover?”

“Perhaps. If his fate was shallow.”

Ken stopped. “And if it wasn’t?”

“Then you consumed the greater portion.”

Ken stared at the pendant. “You didn’t tell me there would be consequences.”

The Remnant’s voice sharpened. “You asked to carve new roots. Roots require nourishment.”

“I won’t kill innocents.”

“You assume innocence exists within sect walls?”

Ken fell silent. Images flashed through his mind. The laughter. The kicks. The sentence to the mines. Still, “That doesn’t justify this.”

“No,” the Remnant agreed calmly. “Power does not justify itself. It exists.”

Ken exhaled slowly. “Elder Mo Yan sensed something.”

“Yes.”

“Can he detect it again?”

“Only if you lose control.”

Ken looked down at his hands. “How do I control it?”

A pause. “You do not suppress hunger,” the Remnant replied. “You direct it.”

“How?”

“Cultivate.”

Ken’s brows furrowed. “With no spiritual root?”

“You misunderstand. You do not absorb qi.”

The pendant pulsed. “You absorb fate.”

The air in the room shimmered. Silver threads materialized faintly before his eyes. Some outside the walls. Some faintly passed through the sect grounds. “You can see them now,” the Remnant continued. “Karmic threads. Luck. Destiny. Potential.”

Ken reached out. A thin strand brushed his fingers. It dissolved into him instantly. Warmth bloomed in his chest. His meridians strengthened. He inhaled sharply. “This is madness.”

“This is evolution.”

Ken clenched his fist. “If I consume too much?”

“You will draw attention.”

“From Mo Yan?”

A soft, chilling laugh. “From Heaven.”

Ken’s breath stalled. “Earlier,” the Remnant said quietly, “when you awakened… something stirred beyond this realm.”

Ken’s gaze hardened. “The Heavenly Dao?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretched between them. “Why would Heaven fear me?” Ken asked.

“Because,” the Remnant replied, voice almost reverent, “your lineage once wounded it.”

The words sent a chill through him. “My family…”

“Was erased for a reason.”

Ken stepped closer to the pendant. “Tell me everything.”

“Not yet.”

His temper flared. “You said you chose me.”

“And I did.”

“Then stop speaking in riddles!”

The pendant’s glow dimmed slightly. “If you knew the full truth now,” the Remnant said evenly, “you would either go mad… or die before sunrise.”

Ken’s chest rose and fell heavily. Outside, thunder rolled across the mountains. “Elder Mo Yan will test you tomorrow,” the Remnant continued. “If he suspects abnormality, he will kill you personally.”

Ken’s mind raced. “What kind of test?”

“Likely the Spirit Resonance Array.”

Ken stiffened. “That array reacts violently to corrupted cultivation.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m not corrupted.”

“No,” the Remnant agreed. “You are unprecedented.”

Ken ran a hand through his wet hair. “If the array detects nothing, I live.”

“If it detects an anomaly, you die.”

“And if it reacts… differently?”

The Remnant was silent for a moment. “Then,” it said slowly, “the entire sect will know something impossible has been born.”

Ken let out a quiet laugh. “So my options are death… or exposure.”

“Growth is rarely comfortable.”

Ken sank onto the floor. The threads in the air shimmered faintly around him. He could feel them now, the destinies of hundreds within the sect. Bright. Dim. Twisted. Tempting.

He closed his eyes. “I won’t lose control again.”

“Control is earned,” the Remnant replied. “Not declared.”

Ken opened his eyes. “Then teach me.”

A long pause followed. Finally, “Very well.”

The threads around him shifted. One thicker strand drifted closer. It pulsed with modest brightness. “A minor fate thread,” the Remnant explained. “Unattached to strong consequences. Absorb it slowly.”

Ken reached out carefully. The strand brushed his palm. Instead of pulling it violently, he focused. Guided. The thread thinned… then flowed into him like mist.

Warmth spread steadily this time. Controlled. His meridians strengthened without surging. He exhaled. “That… I can manage.”

“Good.”

Ken stood. “If I must face the array at sunrise, I need stability.”

“Yes.”

He walked to the small window. The rain had stopped. Clouds parted slightly, revealing a fractured sliver of moonlight. For a brief second, He saw it.

High above the sect. Far beyond the clouds. A massive, indistinct silhouette. Watching. His blood ran cold. “Do you see it?” he whispered.

“Yes,” the Remnant said.

“It’s looking at me.”

“No.”

The voice grew quieter. “It is looking for you.”

A distant rumble echoed across the heavens. Not thunder. Something deeper. Older. Ken felt the Heavenfall Root stir violently in response. Hungry. Defiant.

Above the mountains, lightning formed a spiral pattern in the sky. And from within the clouds, an eye opened.