The air in the hall shifted, thickening like the weight of an impending storm. At first, the sudden density of Spirit Essence went unnoticed, but as Xuefeng's glow reignited, a chaotic wind ripped through the chamber. What began as a soft breeze became a violent current, tossing hair and robes into disarray.
The Shadow Guards closest to Xuefeng staggered, their footing precarious as the suction force pulled at them like invisible hands. They struggled to hold their ground, channeling Spirit Qi to anchor themselves, while others weren't as fortunate. Elder Ming, sensing the growing danger, moved swiftly to shield the children. With a sweep of his arm, he conjured a shimmering Spirit Qi barrier, herding them to safety at the back of the hall.
Then it happened.
From the hole in the ceiling, a vortex descended, roaring as it drew Spirit Essence from the surroundings. It wasn't the radiant phenomenon of Liu Mei's awakening, but something more visceral—untamed and primal. The Essence poured into the hall in torrents, its density so overwhelming it shimmered visibly in the air, swirling like a tangible fog.
More, more! Xuefeng urged inwardly, his mind alight with exhilaration.
His dantian, already overflowing, strained under the pressure. The Spirit Qi within surged toward a faint barrier at its edge. The moment it made contact, the barrier shattered like glass, and a flood of power spilled into an entirely new space. Xuefeng shuddered as the sensation swept through him, a mixture of ecstasy and unease. It felt less like an awakening and more like something being unleashed.
In the haze of his mind, the world around him faded. Suddenly, he was no longer in the hall. He stood instead within his own dantian, an endless expanse of lightless void save for the figure before him—a golden clone of himself, radiating an ethereal glow and exhaling sky-blue Qi.
"This… this is my dantian?" Xuefeng murmured, stepping closer. His gaze fixed on the figure, a creeping familiarity stirring within him. Then he noticed the golden light encasing the figure, and his breath hitched. Wait… I know this light.
He hesitated, then reached out, his hand trembling as it rested on the clone's shoulder. A warmth flooded through him—one he hadn't felt since arriving in this world.
It's the Fate Spirit.
Before he could think further, a sudden pull yanked him forward, dragging him into the golden figure. Panic flared in his chest, but he forced himself to calm down. This was his body. Nothing here could harm him.
When his vision cleared, he was in a boundless white expanse, empty and infinite. Hovering before him was a golden orb, its light pulsing rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat.
"You've finally arrived," a voice echoed, resonating with a strange, otherworldly authority. It was deep, profound—yet there was an unsettling undercurrent, something lighter, more mischievous.
"Who… who are you?" Xuefeng asked cautiously, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence.
"I am but a fragment of Fate," the voice replied, its tone shifting into something almost playful, like a teenage girl speaking through a mask of grandeur. "With your help, I can become a full-fledged Fate Spirit. Would you like to become a Fate Holder and rewrite your destiny?"
The words hung in the air, heavy with promise and danger.
"If you agree," the voice continued, "I'll finish what I started, improving your talent. And I'll guide you on the path to greatness."
Xuefeng's heart skipped. "So… it was you all along? You're the one who's been improving my talent?"
"Of course," the voice replied, almost laughing. "Improving talent is one of my gifts. Just imagine what you could achieve if you wielded such power yourself."
Xuefeng hesitated, his mind racing. The possibilities danced before him, tantalizing, undeniable. The voice broke the silence again. "If you're willing, place your hand on the orb, and we'll seal our contract."
He didn't need to be asked twice. The thought of attaining a golden talent spurred him forward. Without a second thought, he pressed his hand to the orb. A sharp pain lanced through his chest, causing him to gasp, but it vanished as quickly as it came. The orb began to shrink, condensing into the size of a fist before settling gently into his palm.
"Thank you for accepting me," the Fate Spirit said warmly, its voice soft yet brimming with power. "Together, we'll grow stronger. I can't wait for you to find your first Fate Fragment for me to absorb. I'm too weak in this state."
"Wait, what?" Xuefeng froze, his grip on the orb tightening. "What do you mean by 'absorb'?"
"To fully become a Fate Spirit, I need to gather Fate Qi," it explained breezily. "And the only way to do that is by… acquiring it from other Fate Holders."
Xuefeng's stomach dropped. "You mean… killing them?"
"Of course," the Fate Spirit replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You'll need to defeat other Fate Holders so I can extract their energy. But don't worry—I'll help you. With my support, you'll become powerful enough to handle it."
"How many?" Xuefeng asked, his voice low. "How many people are we talking about?"
"Hmm," the Fate Spirit mused, almost casually. "A few thousand, maybe? If they're weak. But if you target stronger Fate Holders, it'll take fewer. A few hundred, perhaps."
Xuefeng stared at the orb in disbelief. "You're asking me to kill thousands of people?"
"Well, it depends on how you look at it," the Spirit replied lightly. "It's not as daunting as it sounds. Once I raise your talent, your cultivation will skyrocket. You'll hardly break a sweat."
Xuefeng exhaled sharply, the enormity of what he'd just agreed to pressing down on him. "And… if I refuse?"
The orb's glow dimmed slightly. "Then I'll have no choice but to consume your soul and find another host," it said, almost apologetically. "But don't worry—I'd prefer not to. I'd much rather stay with you."
For the first time, Xuefeng was left utterly speechless.
"Enough talk," he muttered finally, pushing the looming questions aside. "You promised to improve my talent. Let's get on with it."
"As you wish," the Fate Spirit replied, sinking into his palm. "Relax. I'll handle everything."
A strange numbness spread through Xuefeng as he relinquished control of his body. He hated how she had manipulated him, but if it meant gaining the power he needed to survive, he had little choice.
For now, he thought grimly, I'll play along. But Fate, you'd better keep your end of the deal.
***
While Xuefeng bargained with the Fate Spirit deep within his consciousness, the hall remained gripped by the spectacle unfolding before them. His performance had already exceeded their expectations, leaving even seasoned cultivators gaping in astonishment. The sky-blue aura surrounding him had been impressive enough, but now, an unsettling hum of power filled the air, the vibrations rattling wine goblets and shaking the nerves of even the most composed guests.
"He's cultivating," the Lu Clan Leader muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. His sharp eyes tracked the steady flow of Spirit Essence converging on Xuefeng like moths to a flame. "He's… reached the Spirit Master stage already. That's—well, it's like watching a miracle."
Mu Lan, seated nearby, allowed herself a proud smile. "When the Spirit Awakening Liquid ran low, my son started drawing from the very air around him. He's always been a quick thinker." Her tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the pride beneath her words. "He's a genius."
Not everyone shared her enthusiasm. Emperor Zhen leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face an unreadable mask. But his tone, when he spoke, carried a subtle edge. "Still, a Sky-Blue Talent is nothing extraordinary. At best, it might allow him to become a Spirit King. To attack the Spirit Lord stage… well, that would require a rare opportunity. Even for someone as resourceful as your son."
The words hung in the air, heavy with subtext. Everyone present knew the Emperor himself possessed a Sky-Blue Talent and had spent years clawing for advancement. Despite his wealth and influence, he'd hit the same ceiling countless others had—a barrier that refused to yield, no matter how much power or gold he threw at it. The bitterness in his voice was palpable.
"Why is he still absorbing Spirit Essence?" the Lu Clan Leader interjected, his gaze narrowing as he scrutinized the unusual phenomenon. The air around Xuefeng shimmered like heat haze, thick with the energy pouring into him. "Do you think he's trying to increase his talent further?"
"Impossible," Emperor Zhen snapped, his tone sharp. "If it were so easy to ascend beyond Sky-Blue, why has no one in history managed it without divine intervention? It's already a miracle he's reached this level. Be content with what you've seen."
His dismissal might have ended the conversation if not for the faint, amused chuckle that echoed from the end of the table. Heads turned in unison, and all eyes settled on Manager Wu, who sat with an enigmatic smile. Her crimson dress shimmered faintly in the light as she raised her glass, the intrigue in her expression unmistakable.
"You're wrong," she said softly, her words as sharp as a blade slipping between ribs. "This isn't the end. Watch."
Her confidence sent a ripple through the gathered leaders, their gazes snapping back to Xuefeng. He had been motionless, his body glowing faintly, but now something shifted. His eyes opened slowly, and the room collectively sucked in a breath.
His irises were gold.
Not a muted yellow, not a metallic shimmer—but gold, gleaming and alive, radiating a faint light that seemed to pierce through the very air. The effect was unsettling, as though he were staring through each of them, seeing something none of them could fathom.
"What in the heavens…" the Lu Clan Leader whispered, his voice barely audible over the mounting tension in the room.
The Emperor sat forward abruptly, his hands gripping the edges of the table. For the first time that evening, his carefully crafted composure cracked. "No… that's not possible."