"How vital is the Naga Pearl?" I asked, curiosity piqued. "With the Divine Bone Rune of the goddess of war, I possess one of the most powerful runes in existence. Do I really need to concern myself with it?"
"Power without limits is more desirable than power with constraints. The Naga Pearl contains the refined Eternal Flame," Grandmaster Yu replied, his gaze steady.
"The Flame of Origin and Extinction?" I ventured, my interest barely stirred.
"The only flame that can elevate one to a Mortal God!" Wiman chimed in, enthusiasm evident in his voice.
"Aren't they being a bit extravagant for a mere tournament? Especially since it's open to wanderers; it feels odd," I mused.
"What do you think?" the Commune Chief asked, his tone probing.
"Unless I'm mistaken, the Four Sects are obsessed with power. Such a treasure should remain within their ranks, bestowed upon a protégé or a master. Offering it to anyone feels misguided," I asserted.
"YI YANG is right," Grandmaster Yu affirmed.
"What are we to do now?" Wiman queried, uncertainty creeping in.
"You will participate in the tournament," the Commune Chief ordered.
"If Your Excellency demands," Wiman replied, compliance immediate.
"Should I win this tournament?" I pressed, locking eyes with the Chief. "You know my abilities; outside the Commune, I would only attract covetous eyes from rival Sects."
"That is why Wiman will accompany you," he resolved.
"Your Excellency?"
"What?"
"Nothing," he conceded.
"You both are the best of our generation. Saya, the Grand Saint and reincarnation of the goddess of war, and Wiman, destined to become our most formidable warrior. With the Naga Pearl, you might surpass your limits," the Chief pointed out, a glimmer of hope in his words.
"I'll make sure Wiman wins it," I declared, grasping the weight of our task.
"I'll protect the Grand Saint," Wiman vowed, and we simultaneously bowed our heads in respect.
"You two are a conventional pair, destined to rely on one another. Yet remember, it becomes challenging if you forget what you fight for. Saya's duty is to the world; Wiman's duty is to you. In three days, prepare to leave for the Sky Castle," the Commune Chief announced. We nodded in agreement and withdrew from the hall.
Outside, we walked side by side, silence settling between us.
"Are you alright?" Wiman asked suddenly, concern etched on his face.
"Maybe better than I expected," I confessed, surprised by my own resilience.
"It won't be easy in the Outer World," he warned, his worry palpable.
"I know," I replied, keeping it brief.
"Do I make you uncomfortable?" he ventured, vulnerability creeping into his voice.
"No," I answered, though I was unsure; perhaps I was merely pretending to be in control.
"Don't worry. I'll keep my promise to protect you," he assured me, and a small smirk crossed my lips.
"You don't have to try so hard with me," I said, turning serious. "I realize I made things difficult for you yesterday, and I've often put you in tough positions. But at least I'm glad I can redeem myself for those years of indifference."
We halted, and I turned to face him fully, our eyes locking. The air around us felt charged with unspoken misunderstanding.
He definitely seemed poised to speak from my perspective but held back.
"I will make sure you win the Naga Pearl to maintain your relevance to the Commune," I vowed, stepping closer. "Consider it my way of repaying you for these past five years, for tolerating me and teaching me to grow stronger." I aimed for indifference, and it started to feel easier. Perhaps I couldn't read the pain in his eyes, making my words seem too gentle.
"Thank you," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper weighed down by uneasiness.
"Since when did things become so awkward between us?" I wondered.
"I'll go prepare myself," I asserted, then took flight, leaving him behind.
Upon landing in my courtyard, I sensed an overwhelming presence. In a blink, I turned to find the Commune Chief standing there. It was the first time we were alone.
"You've improved," he remarked, walking past me.
"It's all thanks to your teachings," I replied, watching him smile as he fanned himself.
"Yet something bothers you," he observed, his gaze piercing.
"Maybe," I admitted.
"Like Wiman, everyone in the Commune feels disposable unless they prove their strength," he murmured.
"Isn't that human nature?"
"Perhaps," he conceded, his intimidating aura making me uneasy.
"I heard you were once an Imperial Prince. I don't know much about you, but I hold a grudge against the Imperial Commune," I stated, my voice steady.
"So?"
"With the Tournament open, their presence is likely. I'm not sure I can control myself when I face them."
The weight of my admission hung in the air, a mixture of fear and resolve coiling within me. I let it all take over, for a brief and simple while.
"Then give them a reason to fear you," the Commune Chief surprisingly advised. "Just yesterday, those armed warriors glimpsed your power in the Holy Nascent State and whimpered in fear. With high-grade prizes at stake, I can only imagine how fierce the tournament will be."
"That's why you need me to guarantee his victory?" I asked.
"As long as you both reach the finals, you can cede defeat to him. But for him to make it that far depends entirely on his capabilities." His intent was clear: he wanted Wiman to claim the Naga Pearl.
"You've indirectly suggested it's acceptable for me to confront the Imperial Commune. I can retaliate if provoked. But I don't intend to win the fight myself. Given my true body radiates a strong aura of divine power, would you mind if I used a phantom body to disguise my cultivation level?"
"But high-grade cultivators will still notice it's a phantom body," he cautioned.
"Don't worry," I reassured him. "I'll ensure the Red Spear Commune remains uninvolved if anything goes awry, and I will make Wiman win." I swore, and as the Chief turned to leave, he patted my shoulder before taking flight.
Twelve others were chosen to escort us, while hundreds of practitioners gathered to bid us farewell. We began with prayers to the Goddess of War before being led to the barrier's entrance. There, Doctor Song handed us a supply of medicines and pills, while Wiman engaged in a private conversation with the Commune Chief.
After our farewells, we stepped through the barrier, and the outside world felt transformed from what I had remembered five years ago.
"Do not overexert yourselves on this journey; save your strength for the tournament," Wiman instructed. We complied, and I was led to a small carriage, its door opened for me by Wiman himself.
"You'll travel inside; your security is our priority," he clarified, perhaps anticipating my objections. I held my silence, striving to appear normal as I entered. Just as I settled in, he joined me.
"What...?" I began, but he interrupted.
"The Chief asked me not to let you out of my sight," he said, his expression unreadable. It was difficult to discern if he was joking. I reminded myself of his rejection and felt the weight of unspoken words, choosing instead to remain quiet.
As the carriage moved, I focused on meditating, attempting to distract myself from the discomfort of being in such close quarters with Wiman. It offered some solace as I immersed myself in projecting my phantom body.
The journey eastward stretched on, and by the time my projection was complete, I opened my eyes to see it staring back at me. To my right, Wiman was meditating as well, which brought me a sense of relief. I transferred part of my active consciousness to the phantom body while condensing my true self into a hidden spiritual vault.
In that moment of stillness, the world outside faded, and I felt the boundaries of my existence expand.
I heard the sound of bustling from outside, and peering through the window, I realized we had arrived in a city that stirred a sense of excitement within me. The busy stalls and martial artists moving about reminded me of how long it had been since I'd experienced the lively noise of a marketplace.
"So much has changed," I mused, noting how this place, compared to my former town, was filled with ostentatious buildings, most standing at least two stories high.
"Where have we reached?" I inquired, glancing at the others outside.
"Wangga City," they replied.
"Many cultivators gather here to spend the evening before heading to the Sky Castle tomorrow," one added. Stealing another glance, I noticed the crowd outside was watching us intently.
"Such beautiful ladies," some remarked.
"They aren't women; they're men," others corrected, their voices tinged with curiosity.
"Wearing veils?" someone else mused.
"What don't you know about the Red Spear Commune?" their whispers floated around us until the carriage came to a halt. Wiman instantly opened his eyes, curiosity etched on his face.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Who dares block the path of the Imperial Commune's young master?" a voice called out. Lifting the veil from the window, I saw a young man, about my height, with long, straight hair and a build that felt too rough for his soft features.
"Let me handle this," Wiman said, determination rising in his voice as he stepped out of the carriage.
"Pardon us," he apologized, attempting to be reasonable. "We are new to the city and unaware of the norms here." At his order, the others moved the carriage aside, allowing the retinue of the Imperial Commune to pass.
Their arrogance was palpable, yet I felt strangely calm. As they rode by, a familiar aura brushed against me—one I couldn't quite identify.
We arrived at an inn, and Wiman opened the door, offering me his hand as I stepped out. Before us stood a fourteen-story building, bustling with cultivators entering and leaving. Veils draped over our faces from the nose down, we walked with confidence into the establishment.
"Welcome to Wangga City," a receptionist greeted us with a nod.
"Do you have any available rooms we can rent for the night?" Wiman inquired.
"Yes," the elderly man replied, "but there's only one room available on the seventh floor." The news felt burdensome.
"The fourteen of us can't possibly stay in one room," I protested.
"Most inns are full at the moment. With the Four Seasons Tournament drawing so many visitors for the first time—especially wanderers and smaller communes—it might be hard to find another place for the night."
Frustration welled within me, but I held my tongue, recognizing the urgency of our situation.
"We don't have a choice," Chunho suggested, frustration equally evident in his voice.
"The Imperial Commune is being unreasonable. Insisting that every participant have their own room is unfair," another practitioner complained as we descended the stairs into the lobby.
"It truly is unjust for seventeen of us to share one room, especially when some guests prefer solitude," I said coldly to the receptionist.
"Is it that the Imperial Commune cannot be offended?" Wiman asked, his brow furrowed.
"They've grown powerful over the years, bolstering their authority against the pugilists," Chunho remarked, his tone heavy with resignation.
"An Imperial Prince is staying here, and there are concerns for his safety, especially with wanderers included in the Four Seasons Tournament," the receptionist defended.
"What if I speak with the Imperial Prince?" I proposed, a spark of determination igniting within me.
"He's not accepting just anyone," the keeper replied, skepticism in his eyes.
"Perhaps he'll consider my offer," I insisted. Reluctantly, the young man relented and led the way.
"Follow me," I commanded, and my team trailed behind as we ascended to the top floor. The atmosphere shifted, growing grander and more luxurious. Through the windows, a breathtaking view of the city unfolded before us, a tapestry of life and vibrancy.
As we reached the door to the Prince's suite, anticipation swelled within me.
The air felt fresher here, the room adorned with exquisite red silk curtains, each embroidered with delicate designs of flowers, plants, birds, and butterflies, creating a surreal ambiance.
The receptionist halted before a large pair of doors, intricately carved with reliefs of two graceful cranes.
"Your Highness, someone is here to see you," he announced.
"I am not expecting anyone," came a voice from within, laced with authority. The receptionist glanced at me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
"I have an interesting offer that might intrigue you," I spoke up, feeling a surge of determination. Wiman and Chunho exchanged glances, caught off guard. Suddenly, the doors swung open, and I was met by an intense gaze—dark and intimidating, as though I could peer into an empty soul. The aura radiating from him was palpable, almost suffocating.
In his hand, he held a saber that seemed to weigh heavily, yet he was a strikingly handsome young man, a sense of familiarity washing over me.
Perhaps it was his unique resemblance to me—the sharpness of his jawline, the curve of his nose, the contours of his temples.
"Are you the Prince?" I asked, my voice steady despite the unease swelling within me.
"I am the Prince," someone replied, his tone commanding. Just then, another figure emerged from behind him, and I turned to see a young man with long, straight blonde hair, its rich golden hue gleaming in the light. His sparkling golden eyes were captivating, strikingly beautiful for a man.
His face was slightly narrow, culminating in a sharp chin. His lips, a vibrant shade of pink, resembled plump cherries, while his brows matched the color of his hair—thin and delicate. At the center of his forehead, a golden tattoo shaped like a lotus shimmered subtly. I found myself thinking he needed my veil more than I did. Though I took pride in my own beauty, I couldn't compare to him. If the other members of the Imperial Commune had seemed unattractive to me since my tragic childhood, I felt a twinge of condescension toward him.
"Forgive my bodyguard; he can be a bit cold. People often mistake him for the Killer Prince," he said, halting to observe us with a playful glint in his eye. I couldn't tell if he was jesting.
"What's the problem here?" he asked, his tone casual yet curious.
"We heard that Your Highness has reserved most of the building for the Imperial Commune's practitioners due to safety concerns," Wiman replied, but the young man turned his gaze to his guard instead.
"You didn't buy out most of the floor?" he seemed to inquire.
"I actually bought out two," the young man answered, a surprising boldness in his voice.
"Isn't that a bit heartless for a fifteen-year-old, Haksu?" He remarked,
"Fifteen?" I was taken aback, studying the boy, trying to suppress any words that might be deemed offensive. He seemed far beyond his years, yet undeniably youthful.
"I promised the master I would do whatever it takes to keep you safe," Haksu, the bodyguard, informed the Prince. "Do you have a problem with that?" The young man faced us, allowing Haksu to assert his dominance.
"We wanted to spend the night here, but there isn't enough space for our team," I explained, hoping to find common ground.
"Then find another place," he replied dismissively.
"The other inns and hotels are full. Given our long journey, we're hoping for some leniency," I urged, trying to mediate.
"But that's not my problem," the boy shot back, his gaze intimidating enough to make me feel cornered.
"If you're concerned about the Imperial Prince's safety, why not let us help? We can protect him in exchange for accommodation," I proposed, desperation creeping into my voice.
"Not just anyone can guard His Highness," Haksu insisted, his tone firm.
"You said his safety was your priority."
"That doesn't mean I can trust you or your companions with this task. Besides, with all the other practitioners of the Imperial Commune here, we have more than enough security," he boasted, unwavering in his resolve.
I glanced at the others, including the Imperial Prince, who seemed to weigh his words carefully, choosing silence for now.
"What about His Highness?" I asked, breaking the tension.
"It's not something he needs to concern himself with," Haksu interjected firmly.
"But it's his security detail," I countered. "Perhaps if I defeat you in a duel, we could use the space and prove our ability to protect the Prince."
"You could be assassins," Haksu replied, unyielding, resting his sword against his shoulder, his brow furrowed.
"If I were an assassin, why would I approach you directly? You're at the sixth level of cultivation with a killer aura. If I could defeat you, taking out the Prince would be easy. But if I fail, I see no reason not to prove my worth," I pointed out, meeting his gaze.
"Is that the best idea you've come up with?" the Imperial Prince asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Are you inviting your own death?" Haksu challenged, his posture tense.
"If I were an assassin, I could just as easily eliminate you both. With this veil, it would be hard for others to identify me. Yet, I'm genuinely curious about His Highness' security, and my men need rest. What do you think?" I proposed, my voice steady.
"My Lords, you can't fight here," the receptionist warned, concern etched on his face.
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted, and we were transported to a strange space, resembling the vastness of the cosmos.
"It is only honorable," the Imperial Prince muttered, and I noticed a golden light flickering within his fingers. In that moment, I sensed a different version of him. He bore six halo rings, placing him at Wiman's level, yet an even more potent energy radiated from him, one I struggled to comprehend.
"The Golden Child," Wiman whispered, his tone revealing the depth of his knowledge. I realized then that beneath the Prince's soft and charming exterior lay a formidable force.
"This time-space ring can contain an explosive amount of energy, even in battle," Haksu said, a serious edge in his voice. "But since you asked for it, I'll let you experience the might of my Asura blade." As he began to gather his energy, I felt the impending intensity of a high-grade attack. My heart raced; I needed to keep this confrontation brief.
The only way to achieve that was through a mind attack. For the past few minutes, I had studied his consciousness, and though it had been challenging to decipher, I finally made a breakthrough.
With everyone watching, I raised my right arm and snapped my fingers.
The sound echoed in the charged atmosphere, a signal of my intent. His power was extinguished instantly, leaving everyone in awe.
"What's going on?" Haksu demanded, confusion etched across his face which was the only part of his body still responsive.
"There are exactly 589 psychic defenses in your brain. It shows how determined you and your Master are to protect your consciousness from attacks, even by higher-level cultivators. However, rather than breaking them, I've neutralized them—strangely, perhaps because you felt safe around me or underestimated my abilities," I replied.
"Impossible," Haksu retorted, disbelief heavy in his voice.
"One Thousand Soul Strings Technique," I confessed, my words hanging in the air.
"An ancient move from texts long forgotten," the Imperial Prince observed, a hint of admiration in his smile. Despite his confidence, Haksu remained paralyzed, unable to resist, and I felt a surge of satisfaction.
"It seems the outcome of our duel is clear. I hope His Highness will honor his word," I said, my voice steady. In an instant, we were transported back to our original space, and Haksu regained his mobility.
"Let them," the Imperial Prince commanded, his tone resolute.
"But..." Haksu began, but a fierce glare silenced him.
"I want him inside with me," the Prince ordered. Before Haksu could protest further, the Prince took my hand, and with a single step, we teleported to the rooftop of the building.
From our vantage point, the city sprawled beneath us, bathed in the soft glow of dusk. The bustling crowd appeared like tiny ants, their movements synchronized with the whispering wind. I felt a profound connection to the world below, as if the pulse of life resonated within me.
"Some impressive skills you have," the Imperial Prince remarked, turning to face me. "I've never seen anyone counter my Master's restriction defenses so easily. I struggle with them myself."
His appearance had transformed; his face broader, his body muscular. It was as if he were a different person. Save for his attire, he seemed much older than me.
"A shape-shifting spell?" I ventured.
"A small trick I've been practicing. I can only maintain it for six hours," he confessed, surprising me with his openness. Before I could process his admission, he closed the distance between us, his face mere inches from mine. In an instant, my veil slipped away, and I felt exposed.
He leaned in, his nose brushing against my neck, inhaling deeply. I froze, confusion and vulnerability washing over me.
"Found you," he whispered, a strange glow flickering just above my head. As he withdrew, my heart raced, echoing the tumult of emotions within me.
In that moment, I felt a disorienting blend of fear and fascination. I had never been so emotionally vulnerable with anyone before, not even with Wiman. My admiration for him stemmed from an appreciation of his complexity, which felt largely concealed. Yet with the Imperial Prince, it was different.
There was an intensity in his gaze, a magnetic pull that left me captivated and unsettled. I realized I was drawn to the layers of his character, the hidden depths that hinted at both power and fragility.
"What!" I jolted back to reality as he revealed a gleaming token.
"You and I, we're going to be a pair," he declared boldly. Confusion washed over me in that strange moment.
"A pair?" I echoed, unsure of what to make of his words.
"Haven't you felt odd since arriving in Wangga City? Everything seems normal and welcoming, yet there's a powerful energy lingering in the air, almost like a formation," he explained, drawing my attention to the unsettling harmony between the bustling crowd and the howling wind.
"In other words, the moment we stepped into this city, the Tournament began?" I reasoned, piecing together the puzzle.
"Exactly. Some of us received roles with our invitations, making this more of a qualification round based on our choices. These tokens mark us as seekers, and we are meant to choose someone we feel compatible with," he elaborated.
"So you chose me, despite knowing me for less than thirty minutes." The absurdity of it felt strange as it slipped from my lips, and I sensed my expression mirrored my disbelief.
"This Tournament is unlike any other before it," he continued, his tone earnest. "But I want to trust you over anyone else. Given your prowess, I believe we would make a formidable team. But ultimately, it depends on you."
His words hung in the air, charged with possibility. I felt a rush of emotions—curiosity, apprehension, and an unexpected spark of connection.
"I don't even know your name..."
"It's Yi San. You can call me San'ah." He was very open about it. His cool, assertive demeanor made my heart skip a beat, his casualness both disarming and intriguing.
"What about my team?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
"Don't worry; I'm sure they are coveted." Just as he spoke, a few more lights began to rise from across the city, creating a breathtaking spectacle.
I harbored a grudge against the Imperial Commune. My plan was to get closer, to use their influence for my own ends, perhaps even to humiliate them. Yet, as the evening unfolded, the situation felt increasingly surreal. I never imagined I would be working alongside a member of the Imperial Commune, let alone relying on one during a Tournament. It was common knowledge that we were supposed to be rivals.
The thought of backing out crossed my mind, but the pressing issue of the Naga Pearl loomed larger. I had made a promise to Wiman, and I needed to ensure he possessed it, especially for the Blood Spear Commune.
As I stood there, caught between my ambitions and the unexpected alliance forming with San'ah, I felt the gravity of my choices. The Tournament was a crucible, one that would test not only our skills but our loyalties. Each decision could ripple through our fates, intertwining destinies in ways I could scarcely comprehend.
In that moment, I realized that navigating this world would demand more than mere strength; it would require trust, adaptability, and the courage to leap forward. Could I have embraced that, I was quite uncertain myself.
"You do not know me," I said, stepping closer, teasing him as he had teased me. "I am Saya, and my colleagues belong to the Red Spear Commune." I hoped to catch him off guard.
"Your reputation precedes you in the Pugilistic world—a group of skilled martial practitioners who are almost too reserved," he replied, his voice measured.
"Some even call us an assassination organization."
"Though I'm quite certain I wouldn't be a target for you," he said, exuding confidence. I realized I was losing ground; the longer I looked at him, the more my thoughts drifted into irrelevant territory.
I turned away, frustration bubbling within me. "Take me back," I demanded.
"It's just beneath us," he replied.
Before I could respond, I felt the familiar tug of teleportation, returning me to Haksu and the rest of my team. The Imperial Prince followed, wearing a ghastly smile that hinted at mischief.
"What happened?" Wiman asked, feigning concern.
"I don't know exactly, except that the Imperial Prince did something, and we just happen to be a pair." I stated it with a casualness that felt almost foreign, but I sensed that Wiman misinterpreted my tone, his expression shifting to one of alarm.
"What exactly is that supposed to be?" His voice held an overprotective edge, surprising for someone who had rejected my confession just days earlier.
"I didn't make the rules," the Imperial Prince interjected as Haksu approached Wiman, halting before him to toss another token, which Wiman reflexively caught.
A light shone above him, illuminating the moment.
"Great, now we're even," Yi San muttered, his tone laced with irony.
"What's going on?" Wiman asked, still trying to process the unfolding scene when Haksu nudged him.
"I'm a ruffian, and my Master paired with your... whatever," Haksu explained bluntly. "It's only fair I pair with you so I know where to start if something happens to my Master. Given how you're acting, it's clear you care about him. So, we're done here." His straightforwardness left me amused; I had never seen anyone speak to Wiman like that.
"What about us?" Chunho asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"I don't know," Yi San replied. The tension thickened, and I felt compelled to step in.
"Does everyone in the Imperial Commune have such a token?" I inquired, seeking clarity.
"Yes, though I'm not sure how many remain," he answered, his versatile personality both intriguing and perplexing.
I found myself grappling with the dynamics of our situation. Trust was a fragile thread, and alliances formed in the heat of uncertainty.
"There are twelve of my colleagues occupying two floors. Given that you likely outnumber us, it's only fair that, for our convenience, we're paired together until the arrangement is over," I insisted.
"Haksu can help with that," the Imperial Prince replied.
"Thank you, Your Highness." I maintained my formality as we were ushered away. While others busied themselves finding partners, Wiman and I settled into one of the available rooms. The comfort of the bed was inviting; I flopped onto it, only to notice Wiman staring at me, his expression awkward.
"What is it?" I asked, sensing his hesitation.
"There's only one bed," he pointed out, his tone serious. Panic rose within me as I surveyed the room for alternatives, spotting a chair in the corner.
"I'll—"
"I'll sleep on the chair," he interrupted, determination in his voice.
"But you're my senior..."
"Exactly. You are more vital—not just as a junior, but as the Grand Saint," he insisted.
Reluctance churned in my chest. I didn't want to push the issue; I knew how arguments weighed heavily on him, making him uncomfortable. The thought of him feeling guilty over this small matter hurt me more than I cared to admit.
As we settled into this uneasy arrangement, I felt the tension between duty and personal connection. Wiman's selflessness reflected a deeper bond, one that transcended our roles. In that moment, I understood the complexities of our partnership. It was not merely about rank or titles, but about trust and the unspoken understanding that would bind us as we faced whatever challenges lay ahead.
"Fine." I relented, watching as he settled into the chair. Curiosity piqued, I recalled his mention of the Golden Child. Stuck with the Imperial Prince, I decided it was the perfect opportunity to inquire.
"What is it?" he asked, already familiar with my mannerisms, which allowed me to ease into the conversation.
"About the Golden Child. I realize I don't know much," I confessed, my voice steady.
He picked up on my interest immediately. "I've only heard stories and read a few books, as Grandmaster Yi Hwan told me," he began, and I leaned in closer, intent on every word.
"Historically, the BLUE BLOOD CLAN took wives from the SACRED BLOOD CLAN. The Commune Chief wasn't the first victim much as not all Tumu Emperors married into the Sacred Blood Clan of pugilist practitioners, hoping to limit their influence in the Empire's politics. This led to catastrophe during the ERA OF GODS, when a race of dominant, purebred cultivators achieved Mortal God status and gained immortality. They became unrivaled, worshipped as sages and enlightened beings, amassing followers who formed a formidable force to protect humanity from demons."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "The relevance of the Imperial family diminished while locals found the pugilists as a more reliable force in maintaining the balance within the world, it was until a great battle that the Emperor stumbled upon the Heart Scale of the HEAVENLY DRAGON. It fused with him, granting him with the YELLOW FIRE capable of burning demons and their hosts—but with it came the curse of the GEMINI SPIRIT."
"A spirit with both masculine and feminine attributes," I interjected with some degree of reason, intrigued by the unfolding narrative directly linking it to Yi San
"The Heavenly Dragon represented the celestial order of the universe. Its power was too immense for a fragile mortal soul to bear. To safeguard the Dragon Heart Scale, the Blue Blood Clan took spouses from the Sacred Blood Clan, ensuring their children possessed a Primordial Forte of 99 points. Not all were successful, but those who were became Golden Children, capable of living 300 to 700 years. Upon their death, the Dragon Heart Scale, bound by blood, could only be inherited by a direct Imperial descendant," Wiman explained.
"The Commune Chief... was he one?" My curiosity piqued.
"Close; his Forte was 98 points," he replied, and I felt a jolt of surprise. First, the Divine Bone Rune of the Goddess of War, then the four Divine Weapons, the Heavenly Dragon Tear, and now the Heavenly Dragon Scale—so many divine artifacts left me pondering how many more existed in the world.
"Can anyone possess all runes?" I ventured.
"Holding a rune is like containing water. A vessel can only hold so much before it overflows; if it's too constrained, it will break, releasing all that pent-up energy," he related thoughtfully.
"It seems there are still many powerful runes out there that we do not know about," I voiced my concern.
"A lot of otherworldly instruments ended up in our world because of the Great War 10,000 years ago. Some were buried deep in the earth, while others emerged into the light. Even fragments like a Heavenly Dragon bone, antler, or talon have their power absorbed by various life forms. Most importantly, they can revive either a fragment or the entire primordial spirit of the beings they once belonged to," Wiman explained.
"Why hasn't that happened?" I asked, curiosity mingling with confusion.
"Because the Hallow acts as a permanent barrier and divide, like impenetrable glass. It allows creatures from beyond to see each other but never to meet. While small portions of power may traverse but lost objects from the war, they can never return to their rightful owners unless this veil is lifted," he replied.
I was bewildered. So many mysteries loomed, each as striking as the world felt—both too small and yet impossibly vast. I pondered the notion that the Heavenly Dragon might still exist somewhere in the universe. Yet, it was evident that the Goddess of War's actions 10,000 years ago were not merely about separating the Three Realms from physical contact. She sought to sever their ties entirely, maybe not even for just a very long time, forever perhaps, ensuring they would never meet again, even if it meant her own breath would grow thin or eventually fade.