Sovereign of the Nine Heavens

CHAPTER 5 — SHADOWS OF THE CARTER BLOODLINE

Elder Morvane had seen corpses like this once before, thousands of years ago, and the memory returned with enough force to steal the breath from his lungs.

He remembered black snow falling across burning heavens. He remembered mountains of shriveled corpses scattered across an immortal battlefield where entire sects had been reduced to hollow shells drained of spiritual essence. Above all, he remembered the figure standing silently among the dead—a man with golden-black eyes that seemed capable of devouring the world itself.

Morvane’s fingers trembled faintly as he stared at Derek Vane’s corpse sprawled across the frozen cave floor. It was impossible. That technique should no longer exist. It had been erased from history, buried beneath blood and silence, then destroyed alongside the bloodline that created it.

Yet the corpse before him carried every unmistakable sign. The meridians had been devoured. The spiritual veins had collapsed inward even the soul itself showed signs of exhaustion.

They were the marks of Void Consumption. Nearby, Riven Holt shook so violently that his knees nearly buckled beneath him. “Elder Morvane… that monster killed him…”

Morvane ignored him completely. Instead, his pale eyes rose slowly toward John Carter. The boy stood beneath the flickering spirit lanterns without moving, blood staining his sleeves while shadows clung unnaturally close to his body. Outwardly, he still looked weak, thin, injured, exhausted, and barely standing upright. But Morvane suddenly understood something horrifying. Predators often survived by looking fragile.

John met the elder’s gaze carefully, though cold fear crawled beneath his skin. It was not because Morvane was stronger than him. Strength alone did not frighten him anymore. What terrified him was recognition. The old man looked as though he understood exactly what he was seeing. The silence between them stretched painfully through the cavern while cold wind drifted through the tunnels like the breath of buried ghosts.

Finally, Morvane spoke. “Leave us.”

Riven blinked in confusion. “Elder?” Morvane’s voice turned murderous instantly.

“I said leave.” The pressure behind those words struck like an invisible blade. Riven stumbled backward before fleeing deeper into the tunnels without another word. The moment he disappeared, the mines fell silent once again.

John forced himself not to move. Morvane stepped forward slowly, his robes dragging softly across the frozen stone.

“You killed him.” It was not a question.

John felt his throat tighten. “He attacked me first.” Morvane narrowed his eyes slightly. “That is not what interests me.” The elder crouched beside Derek’s corpse again and pressed two fingers against the shriveled neck.

“How did you do this?” John’s pulse quickened immediately. Inside him, the Void Scripture stirred uneasily. It felt awake now—hungry, alert, almost watchful. “I don’t know,” John answered carefully.

Morvane’s gaze snapped upward. “You’re lying.” The words landed with enough force to make the air feel heavier.

John remained silent for several long seconds, and the elder studied him without blinking before finally rising to his feet once more. “You were born with broken spiritual roots,” Morvane said quietly.

“Your cultivation should have been impossible from the moment you entered this sect.”

John’s fists tightened subtly at his sides. “But now,” Morvane continued, “your spiritual aura feels… different.” A dangerous stillness settled over the cave. Then, unexpectedly, Morvane turned away. “Dispose of the body,” he said coldly. John blinked in disbelief. “That’s it?”

Morvane paused near the tunnel entrance. For the first time since arriving, uncertainty crossed the elder’s face, “You are either very unfortunate…”

His pale eyes shifted toward John once more.

“…or the worst thing to happen to this sect in centuries.” Then he disappeared into the darkness.

John remained frozen long after the elder left. Only after the pressure fully vanished from the cavern did he finally exhale shakily. Inside his mind, the woman’s voice echoed softly. “He remembers.”

John looked toward Derek’s corpse. “Remembers what?” For a brief moment, silence answered him.

Then her voice returned. “A war.” The words sent a cold unease through his chest.

John swallowed hard before asking quietly, “What exactly was the Eternal Void Scripture?” The woman did not answer immediately. Instead, strange visions flickered across his mind. Broken stars drifted through endless darkness. Entire kingdoms collapsed beneath black skies while rivers of corpses stretched across ruined lands like scars carved into the world itself. When her voice finally returned, it sounded distant.

“The cultivation world once feared people capable of devouring spiritual essence directly.”

John frowned. “You mean people like me.”

“No,” she corrected calmly.

“People are far worse.” John stared at Derek’s corpse again. The body no longer looked human. It resembled something hollowed out from the inside, and a wave of nausea twisted violently through his stomach. “I’m becoming a monster.”

“Not yet.”

“That isn’t comforting.” A faint trace of amusement entered her voice. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

John closed his eyes briefly. Part of him still struggled to accept how quickly his life had changed. Three days ago, he had been a crippled outer disciple whom nobody respected enough to notice. Now, he carried a forbidden cultivation art capable of draining people to death, and somewhere deep inside him, the power felt good. That terrified him more than anything else.

The Sky Burial Sect descended into paranoia after Derek Vane’s death. Rumors spread through the mountain like a disease infecting flesh. Some disciples whispered that devil cultivators had infiltrated the sect from beyond the northern wastelands. Others claimed an ancient curse sleeping beneath the burial grounds had finally awakened. Fear transformed people quickly.

Disciples who once traveled confidently through the mountain paths now moved in groups, constantly glancing over their shoulders. Even inner court students avoided isolated corridors after dark.

John noticed the change immediately. The same disciples who had mocked him openly only days ago now avoided eye contact whenever he passed them. It was not respect; it was fear. He still could not decide which felt worse.

At dawn, Elder Morvane stood alone inside the underground archives hidden beneath layers of ancient stone. Dust-covered shelves stretched endlessly through the chamber while spirit lanterns burned with dim blue flames that barely illuminated the darkness. This was the forbidden section. Only elders possessed permission to enter.

Morvane pressed an old jade token against a sealed stone wall, and the barrier rippled instantly before revealing a hidden chamber beyond it. Inside rested countless ancient records. Most had been damaged intentionally. Some were burned beyond recognition. Others had entire sections violently erased.

Morvane moved directly toward a shelf concealed beneath black cloth. His hands trembled faintly as he pulled free an old scroll marked with faded golden symbols. The Carter Bloodline. The moment he opened it, several brittle pages crumbled into ash between his fingers. Destroyed intentionally, but enough remained.

Morvane read silently while his expression darkened further with every passing line. “Primordial Void descendants…” His breathing slowed.

“Impossible…”Most records connected to the Void Blood had been erased after the Heavenfall Purge thousands of years ago. Entire bloodlines had been annihilated while histories themselves were rewritten. Even speaking certain names had eventually become forbidden, yet one fragmented line remained near the bottom of the damaged scroll.

The Void Blood survives through fractured inheritance. If descendants emerge, immediate extermination is authorized by the Immortal Court. Morvane slowly lowered the scroll. Cold sweat formed beneath his robes.

John Carter, a forgotten outer disciple born with broken spiritual roots, might be the descendant of a bloodline powerful enough to terrify immortals. The elder turned immediately toward a communication altar standing deeper within the chamber. Ancient runes ignited the moment he sliced open his palm and pressed blood against the stone surface. Darkness twisted above the altar before forming a distorted figure, Tall Faceless.

Draped in robes covered with shifting stars, Morvane lowered his head instantly. “I request contact with the Ninth Veil.” The figure remained silent. Morvane hesitated briefly before speaking carefully.

“A possible Void descendant has appeared.” The chamber immediately grew colder. Even the spirit flames dimmed. Finally, the faceless figure spoke.

“Location?” Morvane closed his eyes briefly.

“Sky Burial Sect.” Silence followed. Then the figure spoke again, though the voice no longer sounded entirely human.

“Observe him.” Morvane frowned slightly. “Should the Court be informed?”

“No.” The figure leaned closer through the darkness. “If the Void Blood truly survives…” The chamber trembled softly around them.

“…then heaven itself will notice soon enough.” The connection shattered instantly.

Morvane stood alone again beneath the flickering blue flames. For the first time in centuries, the elder felt genuine fear. Night swallowed the mountain once more.

John sat cross-legged inside his shack while snow drifted past the cracked window. Before him, the jade pendant floated silently in the air while dark energy spiraled around his body in slow currents. The Eternal Void Scripture pulsed through his meridians like a second heartbeat. Every circulation cycle brought pain, but it also brought strength. That was the dangerous part.

His body healed faster now. His senses had sharpened to unnatural levels. He could hear distant conversations occurring outside the shack district and feel spiritual energy moving beneath the mountain itself. Even the darkness around him felt strangely alive. “You’re improving quickly,” the woman observed.

John opened his eyes slowly. “You sound disappointed.”

“I expected slower adaptation.”

“That comforting personality of yours again.” A soft laugh echoed inside his mind.

John frowned slightly. He still had not seen her clearly since entering the void realm. He only remembered fragments: silver eyes, black robes, and a presence that felt older than death itself.

“What are you?” he asked quietly.

“Still asking the wrong questions.” John sighed heavily. “Then answer the right one yourself.” Silence lingered for several moments before she finally spoke again.

“You crave respect.” John stiffened slightly.

“You spent your entire life beneath stronger people,” she continued calmly. “Mocked. Ignored. Humiliated.” Dark energy curled slowly around his fingers.

“And now,” she whispered, “power finally listens to you.”

John’s jaw tightened. “I crave freedom.” The answer came instantly, honest and raw. The woman became quiet again. Then she said softly, “Power is the only freedom this world understands.”

John hated how true those words sounded. The cultivation world worshipped strength above all else. Weak people suffered while strong people decided morality for everyone beneath them. Perhaps that was why the Void Scripture terrified heaven itself, because it gave power to people who were never meant to possess it. Suddenly, a pulse of energy erupted from John’s body. The shack walls rattled violently.

John cursed under his breath and forced the scripture back under control. Too much power leaked from him now whenever his emotions shifted. That was dangerous. If anyone sensed it, a knock suddenly echoed outside the shack.

John’s eyes sharpened instantly.

“John.” Kael Drake’s voice.

John rose slowly. Inside his mind, the woman spoke again. “What does he want?”

“I don’t know.”

“That usually means trouble.” John approached the door carefully before opening it.

Kael stood beneath falling snow with his hands folded behind his back. Several disciples lingered nervously farther behind him, whispering among themselves while watching the shack from a distance.

Kael’s sharp gaze locked immediately onto John. For several long seconds, neither of them spoke. Then Kael smiled faintly. “You’ve changed.”

John remained expressionless. “So have you.”

Kael stepped closer. The pressure radiating from him felt heavier than before. “Derek Vane disappeared,” he said calmly.

John’s heartbeat remained steady. “I heard.”

Kael studied him carefully. “And yet you don’t seem surprised.” Snow drifted silently between them.

Then Kael spoke again, “What are you hiding?” The question settled heavily in the air.

John looked directly into his eyes before answering. “The same thing everyone hides.”

Kael’s gaze narrowed. “Weakness.” For the first time, uncertainty flickered across Kael Drake’s face. Not because of the words, but because John no longer sounded weak when he said them. Eventually, Kael turned away. But before leaving, he paused briefly beneath the falling snow. “There’s something dangerous inside you now,” he said quietly. Then he disappeared into the darkness.

John watched him go while storm clouds slowly gathered above the sect, and high beyond the heavens, something opened its eyes. John felt it instantly. A pressure beyond comprehension descended across reality for one terrible moment. He looked upward sharply. Far above the crimson clouds, an enormous golden eye stared directly at him.

The Heavenly Dao.

The eye blinked once, then vanished.

Only John had seen it.