The Oracle's final, fading words, "But it will not set you free," echoed in Jianyu's mind, a chilling counterpoint to the spectral child's whisper: "We were born from lies. Let us end truth." The revelations from Rouling Shan—that he was a sacrifice, a spiritual mother, and host to a stolen fragment of a dying god—had twisted his understanding of himself into a new, grotesque knot. He was a weapon, yes, but a weapon forged from stolen divinity, destined for a purpose not his own.
He returned to Heifeng Cheng, the city's usual bustle now feeling like a thin veneer over a seething cauldron of suspicion and fear. His recent public displays, particularly the fracturing of his forms, had branded him a true anomaly, a heretic to the established order. He knew the sects would be desperate to contain him, to understand him, or to destroy him.
His instincts proved correct. He was attempting a clandestine infiltration of the Moonbone Sect's inner sanctum, seeking more information about the "ancestral womb" and the Moonlotus Saint's true history, when the trap sprung. The air, thick with the scent of ancient bone dust, suddenly solidified around him. Spiritual chains, shimmering with a cold, moon-white light, erupted from the shadows, binding his male form, Xu Jianyu, with brutal force.
He struggled, his qi flaring, but the chains were ancient, imbued with a powerful silencing rune. He could not split into Niánmei, could not unleash his full power. He was dragged through dimly lit, bone-carved corridors, deeper into the Moonbone sect's fortress, past silent, watchful figures whose faces were devoid of emotion.
He was brought to a chamber that reeked of stale blood and ritual. At its center stood a towering, grotesque artifact: the Spiral Cord of Truth. It was a massive, twisting column of bone and sinew, pulsing with a faint, malevolent light. Whispers in the cultivation world spoke of its power: it exposed lies through agony, shattering the bones of the deceiver, then resetting them, only to shatter again.
Jianyu, in his male form, was strapped beneath it, his limbs stretched taut, his body suspended just above the pulsating cord. The Moonbone elders, their faces grim, began their interrogation.
"Are you a man?" the lead elder, her voice a dry rasp, demanded.
Jianyu, though bound, met her gaze. "Yes," he stated, his voice clear, defiant.
The Spiral Cord remained inert. No reaction. His bones did not shatter. A flicker of surprise crossed the elder's face.
"Are you Niánmei, the Moonlotus Saint?" she pressed, her voice laced with a desperate hope.
"Yes," Jianyu replied, his gaze unwavering.
Again, the Cord did not react. The elders murmured amongst themselves, confusion warring with their conviction.
"Do you know who you are?" the elder finally asked, her voice sharp with frustration.
Jianyu was silent. He looked at the Spiral Cord, its light pulsing, waiting. He knew the answer was complex, layered, a truth that defied simple words. He was Jianyu. He was Niánmei. He was a sacrifice, a mother, a host to a stolen god. He was a being born from lies, destined to end truth. How could he articulate that?
The Spiral Cord tightened. A searing pain ripped through his body as his bones began to creak, to groan, threatening to shatter. He gritted his teeth, refusing to scream, refusing to give them the satisfaction. The agony intensified, a white-hot fire consuming him. He felt his femurs groan, his ribs crack.
Just as the Cord threatened to crush his skull, a sudden, blinding flash of violet qi erupted from the chamber's entrance. Mei Ling'er. She burst in, her face pale but resolute, a shimmering, blood-red rune glowing on her forehead. She moved with a desperate speed, unleashing a torrent of qi that slammed into the Moonbone elders, scattering them.
"Stop!" she cried, her voice ringing with an authority Jianyu had never heard from her. "You cannot harm him! He is… he is kin!"
The lead elder, recovering, glared at Ling'er. "Insolent servant! How dare you—"
"I dare because I am Gong Xuelan's daughter!" Ling'er interrupted, her voice shaking but firm. A gasp went through the chamber. "Her hidden bloodline. And he… he is my brother."
Jianyu, suspended in agony, stared at Ling'er. Xuelan's daughter? The Oracle's words echoed in his mind: "Your System is not unique. Two others exist." And Ling'er's unusual compatibility with blood-based runes. He had suspected she was a failed vessel, but Xuelan's child? The revelation was a shock, a sudden, unexpected twist in the intricate web of his origin. Ling'er, his loyal, naive companion, was a key to his past, and perhaps, his future.