Five old figures [ Ancient God's.] stood together. Each had a long white beard, their faces lined with the deep marks of time. They all looked to be in their thousandth year. Three carried hair ashen-gray, while the other two had hair the same shining white as Mu's. Their arms were folded across their chests, their eyes grave and sharp, heavy with a desperate seriousness.
They stood on an altar nearby, where Mu's body floated in the air. Without a word, they stepped forward, closing into a circle around him. Their arms unfolded slowly, and though their bones were old, their movements still held precision. They raised their hands, and threads of Qi streamed through the air, drifting into Mu's body. The energy repaired torn flesh, sealed fractures, and knit every wound shut.
Mu's body lifted higher, arms and legs spreading open, as if the unseen force holding him knew exactly how to let the Qi flow in without resistance.
While their hands moved, their voices began to rise in unison. They spoke in an ancient tongue, and the words did not just echo, they formed themselves into black and white letters that floated from their mouths, hanging in the air like ink.
The voices of the five overlapped:
"Kalthrûn… Sûr-Mek… Vor'zhûn."
And then, softer but firm, came the white runes:
"Aelion… Seren-thu… Lum'ra."
The black and white letters wound around each other like strands of light and shadow, pulsing in the air.
Suddenly, the light exploded outward. Mu's body floated gently down and settled back on the altar. His eyes opened, glowing an intense golden yellow.
"You are not welcome here, Mu," one of the Gods said, voice steady and low. "Your time has not come. Go… look after the world, for it needs you. You must be strong. In the end, everyone will die even you. But before that day, the world will fall into ruin. No one can stop it except the brave young Chen warrior… and that warrior is you. If you fail, the entire world will be destroyed."
Another God stepped closer. "The Manhuman within you is a pattern. Your generation is different and unique. Your Manhuman can grow, refine its skills, even without your direct help. But if you are weak, it too will weaken. We need you. They need you. Stay strong. Work hard. Whatever happens, never forget… you have a purpose."
The five exchanged a silent look before speaking together. "We, the Gods, will aid you as much as we can, but our time is short. At the end, you will face a Sage. Take these three Earth Grade scrolls. One is the Scroll of VerdantPulse, a technique that draws on the life force of nature, allowing the user to restore vitality and heal rapidly in the midst of battle. The second is the Scroll of Iron Tempest — a method that hardens the body to withstand crushing force, while unleashing strikes that carry the weight of storms. The third is the Scroll of Thousand Shadows, a movement technique that bends the user's presence, allowing them to vanish from sight and reappear in a dozen places at once. Master them well. The tournament ahead will test you, and greater trials still are waiting. Be careful."
They lifted their hands once more, and Mu's body rose into the air again. His eyes closed without his will, and a white, blurry light engulfed him until the scene vanished.
---
Back in the real world, the Chen family surrounded Mu. Their faces were drawn tight with worry; in their hearts, they had already mourned him as dead.
Then a faint sound.
Mu's heart began to pound, each beat growing stronger. His chest rose as he drew in a slow breath, though his eyes stayed shut.
"Master Wei!" someone cried, unable to hold the relief in their voice. "Mu is breathing!"
"What?" Wei turned sharply, disbelief flashing across his face. He hurried to Mu's side, his steps quick despite the weight of days without rest.
When he reached him and saw the life in his chest, his breath escaped in a deep, shaky sigh. "We stayed here for days… mourning you. And now… you return." His voice trembled. "Even Grandpa Lu has been awake for two days now."
They sat around Mu with relief in their eyes, even though he still hadn't regained consciousness. His breathing was steady. He was alive, and for now, that was enough.
"Go and call Elder Chen Rong," Wei said to one of the guards, his tone brisk but tinged with relief. The guard didn't waste a second; he turned and sprinted off to fetch him.
Lu stepped closer, pulling out the chair beside the bed. He lowered himself into it and rested a hand gently against Mu's forehead.
"Thank you, my grandson," he murmured softly. "Thank you… for saving my life."
—
At Beijing — Lord Wu Xun's abode.
"You're a coward," Wu Xun's voice roared through the hall. "You let that little rat defeat you."
The man standing before him was Yao Zhilan, still alive but weak and injury.
Zhilan gave a faint smirk. "Mu is badly injured. Their entire clan's focus will be on him. He's their only hope." He leaned forward slightly. "Let me sneak in and bring him to you."