Chapter 3 – Chains in the Dark
The rain had not stopped since the night before.It fell in sheets over the Kai estate, drumming against the tiled roofs and splashing into the courtyards, washing dust into rivulets that snaked through the cobblestones. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and burning oil from the watchtowers.
By the time Li Wei—still wearing the name and body of Zerel Kai—was dragged across the east courtyard, his wrists bound in cold iron, his robe was soaked through and heavy. The guards didn't speak; they didn't need to. The weight of their grips and the way their eyes refused to meet his told him all he needed to know.
The last thing he remembered of the outside world was the carved gate of the detention wing closing behind him, its wooden panels swelling with moisture.
The cell they threw him into was no more than a damp stone box carved into the belly of the estate. A sickly green light seeped in from a narrow slit near the ceiling, its glow warped by rusted bars and years of grime. The air was stale, layered with the scents of wet stone, corroded metal, and the sour tang of bodies that had rotted in confinement for too long.
Water trickled down the walls in patient, steady rivulets, each drop striking the floor with a hollow echo that made the space feel even smaller.
Li Wei sat in the darkest corner, his back pressed to the wall. His eyes were closed, but there was no rest in him. Every breath was measured, every heartbeat counted.
His body was damaged goods—meridians choked, spiritual core unsteady, the very pathways of cultivation frayed. In this world, such a state was little more than a drawn-out execution. Yet death sentence was not the same as final.
There were paths. Forbidden ones.
Two rose to the front of his mind.
The first: The Tome of the Celestial Leech, hidden in the private library of Patriarch Kai Renzhong. It was said to be written by one of the Kai ancestors, a man who had walked through wars and plagues by feeding not on Qi, but on life itself. Every stolen breath, every heartbeat ripped from another, could be turned into raw vitality, repairing meridians and mending the spiritual core. In the original game, Zerel Kai had stolen it and regained his power in a handful of months—at the cost of enough lives to haunt any conscience that still had weight.
The second: to find the bearer of the Celestial Lotus Physique. A living treasure, rare enough to be thought myth—a body that could pour pure, untouched energy into a cultivation partner, healing and empowering them. In the old timeline, that bearer was Lian Yue, a quiet girl from a forgotten sect, invisible to the world until her secret was exposed. Then she became the spark for bloodshed between sects. With her, one could awaken the Pure Yang Veins, a blessing so potent it shattered mortal limits.
Both paths reeked of danger. The first would mark him forever as a demonic cultivator, hunted by the "righteous." The second would make him prey for every greedy master in the land.
Li Wei's lips curved faintly. He had no fear of dangerous paths—only of wasting steps.
The cell was quiet, save for the drip of water, until the silence broke with a sound that made the hairs on his neck rise. Somewhere beyond the corridor, a door shrieked open on rusted hinges, the noise long and sharp, like metal being torn apart.
Footsteps followed. Slow. Measured. The kind of walk that belonged to someone who believed every second already belonged to them.
An old man emerged from the shadows outside the bars. His robe was plain gray, hanging loose over narrow shoulders, but there was nothing frail about the way he stood. His hair was a curtain of white, framing a face weathered by time, and his eyes—dark and alive—were the sort that did not simply look at you, but through you.
"Zerel Kai," he said, his voice low yet carrying easily through the cell. "I didn't expect to find you so… calm."
Li Wei recognized him instantly. Not from his own memories, but from those inherited with this body. Mo Shang—on the surface, an elder of the Kai Household, keeper of small affairs. Beneath that mask, an infiltrator of the Crimson Lotus Cult, a patient parasite that had embedded itself into the roots of countless clans.
In Zerel Kai's first life, Mo Shang had been the one elder who did not spit contempt at him as a child. Not because of compassion—because he saw potential in broken things.
"This place devours the weak," Mo Shang continued, stepping close enough that his fingers could curl around the rusted bars. "But you are not weak… not yet."
Li Wei said nothing. The old man's interest was not in him, but in the piece he could be on the board. Mo Shang was the kind of man who saw people as tools—some worth sharpening, others worth breaking.
"There is more than one way out of this cell," Mo Shang said, voice dropping to a rasp. "And more than one way to return with strength no one dares chain again."
He didn't need to name them. The flicker in his eyes was enough. He knew of the Tome. He knew of the Lotus Physique. Perhaps he even knew things Li Wei hadn't yet uncovered.
His lips twitched into something too thin to be called a smile.
"Think on it, boy. The clan was never built for the just… only for those who dare."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the soft tap of Mo Shang's cane against stone. He lingered, his shadow stretching into the cell.
"Two paths," he said at last. "Both lead to the edge of death."
Li Wei raised his gaze.
"The first," Mo Shang said, "is the Blood Trial. Every prisoner who accepts will be thrown into the arena. No rules. No mercy. The last one standing walks free. The rest… feed the crows."
He leaned in closer.
"The second… is to stay here. Wait for your execution. A week, maybe two. The patriarch is not a patient man."
Li Wei understood. Both roads carried death. But only one allowed him to choose who died first.
Mo Shang tapped his cane once, the sound cracking the stillness.
"Choose well, Zerel Kai. Some men die in chains. Others, with the blood of their enemies in their hands."
The old man stayed there a moment longer, watching. Waiting. As though certain the choice had already been made.
Li Wei's eyes narrowed.
"If I take the Blood Trial," he said evenly, "I'll walk out. And I won't leave a single crow hungry."
Mo Shang's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his gaze—approval, perhaps, or the satisfaction of a man whose plans were moving as intended.
"Good," he murmured. "Then we will speak again… when the sand runs red."
He turned and walked away, the echo of his cane fading into the corridor's damp air.
The cell door remained shut, but Li Wei knew the first move had already been played. Somewhere beyond these walls, the stage was being prepared—not for his execution, but for his survival… or the spectacle of his death.
He closed his eyes again, listening to the water drip. The smell of damp stone still clung to the air, but now it carried something sharper—the scent of blood yet to be spilled.
The Kai Household thought they had cornered him.They had no idea they had just opened the door.
The Blood Trial would come. And when it did, the arena would remember the day the Eclipse returned.