The mist deepened.

Shen Jin followed Yan Jiuyan down the final stretch of broken stone steps, their boots muffled by the damp.

Ahead, a thin barrier of spiritual light shimmered faintly in the fog — pulsing, like the skin of something alive.

They stepped through it.

And at once, the mist fell away.

—

Amidst a basin of shattered rocks and uprooted soil, a single black stone stood upright.

Nearly twice the height of a man, the slab was fractured, jagged along its surface, as if it had clawed its way out of the earth.

Cracks spiderwebbed across its face, trailing down to the base — and from each fissure, thin ribbons of black vapor drifted outward, silent and slow.

Shen Jin halted.

He hadn’t approached, but the moment his eyes locked with the stone, a shiver ran through his fingers —

and beneath his collar, the brand on his shoulder began to heat.

He felt it clearly.

This thing… wasn’t dead.

It was breathing.

Yan Jiuyan said nothing at first. He simply watched Shen Jin’s reaction, the corners of his mouth tilted in a faint, unreadable smile.

“They say it surfaced beneath the third-tier seals. Wasn’t on any of the old geomancy charts.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“No one knows how it got there. But the moment it rose, it burned through three layers of warding.”

Shen Jin stared.

The haze curling off the stone glowed faintly — not with spirit energy, but something older, wrong.

The lines carved into the surface resembled what he had seen in broken, forbidden scrolls:

Ancient, slanted, almost malicious glyphs — like sacred language twisted and broken.

“Is Elder Qi coming?”

Shen Jin asked softly.

Yan Jiuyan shrugged.

“Who knows?

But one thing’s for sure — you weren’t brought here to copy scriptures.”

His smile faded slightly.

“Someone wants to see what happens when you stand in front of that thing.”

Shen Jin said nothing.

His eyes lowered, and beneath his sleeve, his hand pressed lightly to his left shoulder —

where the fire-mark began to burn, slowly, silently.

From far beyond the stone, a sharp cry echoed — high and clear.

A bird?

No.

He knew that wasn’t a bird.

It was the voice from within the stone, waking.

And reaching for him.