The wind howled through the peaks of Mount Xiuling, carrying with it whispers older than memory. Mists curled and twisted like breath exhaled from the throats of the long dead. In the heart of the mountain range, atop a desolate cliff, stood the ancestral palace of the Sky Sect—ancient, stoic, and shrouded in silence.
Inside the main hall, tension crackled in the air like lightning trapped beneath lacquered tiles. Candles flickered despite the absence of wind, as though something unseen disturbed them.
On the central offering altar lay a bone scroll—smooth, pale, and veined with faint crimson threads that pulsed softly, like something alive still stirred beneath its surface.
No one spoke.
Until Elder Wu Feng, his long silver beard trembling with age and rage, finally broke the silence.
"This… this is a fragment of the Sixth Bone Scripture," he said slowly. "The Ritual of Reversed Souls."
Gasps echoed in the hall. One disciple couldn't help whispering, "That technique… allows one to bind the bones of the dead to the living body. To bring back what should never rise."
A wave of nausea passed through the seated elders. Even the walls seemed to creak in discomfort.
Standing before them was a man dressed in black from head to toe—his robe embroidered subtly with ash-grey sigils, his face half-shadowed beneath the flicker of candlelight. His name was Liang Shen, the last descendant of the Bonekeeper Clan, the one said to have vanished after the Bone Massacre twelve years ago.
His voice was low, controlled. "I found it in the ruins of Baiye Village. Everyone was dead. Their bodies were… stripped."
Elder Wu Feng's fingers tightened on his cane. "Their bones, taken. Their names erased."
"And on the walls," Liang Shen added, "were carved sigils… and one word written in blood."
He stepped forward and placed a burnt scrap of talisman on the altar.
One elder recoiled. "That symbol… It belongs to the Ghost Fang Sect!"
Whispers turned into panic. The Ghost Fang Sect—believed extinct for decades—was known for its forbidden arts. They were the first to try resurrecting the Bone Scripture during the Crimson War, sacrificing entire bloodlines to fuel their rituals.
And now, the signs of their return had appeared.
---
Far Away – The Orchid Valley
Far beyond the grasp of the Sky Sect, in a tranquil valley blanketed in moonlight, a young woman picked night orchids with fingers as delicate as silk thread. Her robe shimmered with soft lavender, her long hair braided with silver ribbons that fluttered like wings.
Qin Yao—disciple of the Luminous Heart Temple, healer of curses, and… the only one who had once seen Liang Shen cry.
As she bent to collect a final bloom, a chill brushed her skin. A bone-white butterfly landed on her shoulder, its wings carved with runes of mourning.
Her eyes narrowed. "A death omen… from the north."
She stood, turning her face to the wind.
"Liang Shen... You've found it, haven't you?"
In that moment, she felt the pull again—a thread of destiny long severed, now trembling as though death itself had whispered his name.
---
Back at Sky Sect – The Gathering Storm
"The names have begun appearing again," another elder said, voice tight with dread. "Villages disappearing. Blood rituals forming glyphs. And names—written in ancient script across the bone altars."
"Dead Names Ritual," murmured Elder Wu Feng. "A myth, we thought. But the Bone Scripture… it lives again."
The air turned colder as all gazes shifted toward Liang Shen. Yet his face was unreadable.
"I will travel to Fengluo," he said. "The ruins hold secrets. I believe that is where the ritual began."
Alarms rose at once. "Alone?"
"This is not sect business," he answered. "It is blood-debt. My father… was betrayed from within these very walls."
Silence. Bitter, heavy silence.
At last, Wu Feng spoke. "Very well. But you will not go alone. She will accompany you."
The hall door opened, and light spilled across the dark floor.
Qin Yao stepped inside.
---
Reunion under the Plum Tree
They met beneath a blooming plum tree—one of the few still left standing in the Sky Sect's garden.
Liang Shen stood still as a statue. His eyes flickered once as she approached, but he said nothing.
Qin Yao's lips curved, just barely. "Still cold as ever."
"And you still sense death from miles away," he replied.
Their words were light, but the air between them trembled with unspoken memories.
"You never looked for me, Shen."
He looked down.
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
"Because if I found you again… I might drag you into this darkness."
She stepped closer. "I've been in the dark for years. I was only waiting for you to see me there."
The silence thickened. He reached out—then stopped, fingers twitching in hesitation.
"We have a mission."
"You always run when I get close," she whispered.
Before he could reply, the skies cracked.
---
The Ritual Awakens
Screams echoed from the forest below. A crimson glow surged from the roots of the mountains as masked figures surged through the trees—dozens, maybe hundreds, wearing robes marked with the sigil of the Ghost Fang Sect.
Qin Yao's stance dropped immediately, her fingers forming luminous sigils. "They're beginning the summoning!"
Liang Shen unsheathed his bone-forged blade—dark as void, etched with his clan's curse marks. It drank in the light around them.
The two moved as one. Her spells froze enemies mid-strike, shattering their flesh to crystal. His sword carved through spirit barriers and ripped open shadow constructs. But the enemy was relentless.
And then… atop the cliff, a figure emerged.
A man in white, hair like silver snow, eyes like hollow graves.
Elder Bai Mu.
"The Bone Scripture should have remained buried," he said, voice as calm as the grave. "But you, Liang Shen… You've stirred it from its sleep."
Shen's expression darkened. "You raised the dead. You carved names in blood."
The elder smiled. "And tonight… your name joins them."
He raised his hands—and the earth split.
From the cracked soil, skeletons clawed upward. Their skulls were carved with names… names of the villagers from Baiye.
Liang Shen froze.
Among the dead… one skull bore a name etched in bone:
Liang Yu.
His father.
"No…" he breathed.
Qin Yao turned toward him, alarm rising in her chest. "They sealed the spirits into puppet husks—if they attack you, it's not them—it's what's possessing them!"
But Liang Shen didn't move. He stepped toward the approaching bones, each dragging chains of cursed prayer paper.
"I'll free them," he whispered. "Even if it costs me everything."
"Shen—!"
He stepped closer.
The bones twitched.
Suddenly, Bai Mu slammed his hand into the ground, activating a buried altar of bone beneath Liang Shen's feet. Chains of marrow rose up, spiraling around his body.
"No!" Qin Yao screamed, rushing forward. Their fingers grazed—just once, a touch like memory.
And then he was gone—swallowed by the altar, dragged beneath the earth.
The night went still.
From the cracks in the ground, a voice echoed:
> "One name lives…
A thousand names awaken…"