Void Veins: The Forbidden Ascension

Chapter 22. The Silent Forest and Vanishing Trails

The foothills of Silent Peak were no place for ordinary mortals. The air grew so thin it felt like a blade drawn across the throat, filled with microscopic ice crystals drifting among the trees like shards of diamond. Breathed too deeply without qi protection, these slivers would slowly score the lung lining, leaving a dull, persistent ache. Lin Ye felt this at once; he shallowed his breath, letting the black jade at his chest gently filter the air entering his body.

They followed a path all but swallowed by eternal snow. Around them, giant pines rose like the pillars of a forsaken temple, their boughs sheathed in thick ice that glimmered with pale light beneath a perpetually overcast sky. No birds called; no wind stirred the leaves; not even the track of a small creature marked the undergrowth. The silence was so absolute it pressed against the ears, as though the world itself had stopped breathing centuries ago and dared not start again. This was no mere quiet of nature — it was a dead zone, born from millennia of seeping Void energy that had poisoned the soil and made the air alien to all living things.

Shen Kui walked ahead, slightly hunched, his staff probing the snow at every step to test its depth and the stability of the ground beneath. His face looked far more lined than it had in the lowlands, his skin wind-chafed and pale, every furrow deepened — as though the weight of all he had carried could no longer be hidden.

“Touch nothing,” he murmured, so softly he might have been hushing something asleep in the earth. “Root and moss alike have drunk negativity for centuries. A single brush, and neurotoxin spreads through your veins before you can pull your hand away.”

Lin Ye nodded, his eyes scanning every shadow. He kept clear of overhanging branches, his Nullification Sword marking the line beyond which nothing could be touched. At his chest, the black jade beat with a slow, steady rhythm — as if it possessed a heart of its own, now throbbing in time with the mountain itself. The higher they climbed, the stronger the resonance; a warmth spread outward, not burning heat, but the strange, soft comfort of coming home.

“This is home,” Mo Yuan whispered, his voice like dry leaves rustling in a gentle breeze. “Or what remains of it. Long ago, before those who called themselves holy set their seal upon this peak, this was where the deepest arts were taught. We learned balance — between being and emptiness. Now? All is buried. This is no mere forest. It is a tomb for knowledge those in power wished to forget.”

“A tomb for whom?” Lin Ye wondered silently, gazing into mist that clung to the trunks in the distance.

“For those who dared question boundaries set by others,” Mo Yuan replied, faint and sombre. “For those who believed strength need not be built on suffering.”

Abruptly, Shen Kui halted. He raised a hand, signalling silence. His body stiffened, head tilted as though listening to something beyond ordinary hearing. Before them, half-hidden beneath frozen undergrowth, lay prints in the snow — still sharp-edged, not yet filled in by drifting flakes.

Not animal tracks. Heavy boot prints, uniform, deep, fresh. Five sets, scattered yet leading the same way.

“Academy guards?” Lin Ye breathed, fingers closing around his sword hilt.

Shen Kui knelt, heedless of the cold. He lifted a handful of earth and snow from the base of a print, sniffed it, and his expression hardened.

“No,” he said low and grave. “Sulphur and scorched iron. Imperial Special Forces — the Iron Blood Squad. They answer to no sect rector. They report directly to the throne.”

A chill sharper than mountain air crept down Lin Ye’s spine. If the Empire was involved, this ran far deeper than a power struggle between sects. Valerius might not be the only one hunting the mountain’s secrets. A third force had long been moving in the shadows — ready to seize Void technology and weaponise it.

“They head upward,” Shen Kui pointed toward the mist-wreathed peak. “And look how deep they sink. Whatever they carry is immense. Not climbing gear — something prepared long ago.”

Lin Ye stared into the fog. What did they bear? An energy siphon? Or perhaps… a prisoner?

“We must follow them,” Lin Ye said, stepping forward. “If they reach the summit first, we lose every advantage we have.”

Shen Kui sighed and rose slowly. “Be wary, Lin Ye. The Iron Blood are known for leaving no witnesses. They do not take prisoners — they erase. And if they are escorting a captive… their plan is greater than we can imagine.”

They hastened on, setting caution aside for speed. The silent forest seemed to hold its breath; ice-laden boughs creaked softly as they passed, as if the world itself knew bloodshed could no longer be averted.