After the awakening ceremony ended, the grand hall of the Mo Clan gradually emptied, leaving behind only the faint hum of residual spiritual energy and the lingering scent of incense. The air still vibrated faintly from the echoes of excitement — the laughter, the gasps, the envy that filled the room when each young disciple discovered their affinity seed.
Now, only calm remained.
A heavy, sacred kind of calm.
The elders, seated upon the raised platform beneath the jade dragon insignia of the clan, called forward the newly awakened disciples one by one. Each youth stepped forward to receive their first cultivation technique — a gift, and a burden — tailored to the nature of their affinity.
When it was Mo Han's turn, the hall fell quiet.
Even among the younger generation, few possessed such an unusual seed.
The Great Elder reached into a lacquered box and drew out a small pouch of deep black silk, embroidered with silver threads that shimmered faintly like moonlight. He extended it toward Mo Han.
"Inside," the elder said in his deep, gravelly voice, "are twenty mid-grade Chi Stones — enough to stabilize your foundation during your early cultivation. And this—" He lifted a slender scroll bound with a black ribbon, its surface etched with faint shadowy patterns that seemed to shift when viewed from different angles. "—is the *Shadow Scroll*, an inheritance from the late members of our clan who bore the same affinity seed as you. Their experiences, their techniques, their failures — all lie within. Treat it with reverence."
Mo Han bowed low, his hands steady despite the faint tremor in his chest. "This disciple thanks the elders for their generosity."
The elder's eyes softened. "Walk the path without arrogance, child. The shadow is fickle. It can protect, or consume."
"I understand," Mo Han said quietly.
When all of the younger generation had received their techniques and resources, the ceremony drew to its close. The clan elders gave their final blessings, and the disciples, full of youthful pride and determination, bowed deeply before them. Promises echoed through the hall — vows to bring glory to the Mo name, to ascend beyond mediocrity, to one day stand as pillars of strength for the clan.
And then, they dispersed — scattering like embers in the wind.
---
The night was cool when Mo Han stepped out of the main residence. The moon hung low above the mountains, casting long silver shadows over the quiet courtyards. The stone lanterns that lined the paths flickered faintly, illuminating his figure as he made his way toward the outskirts of the clan grounds.
The pouch at his waist felt heavier than it should. Inside, the faint pulsing warmth of the Chi Stones resonated with his own spiritual energy, calling to him, urging him to begin. But the Shadow Scroll was heavier still — not in weight, but in presence. Every time he glanced at it, a subtle chill ran down his spine, as though unseen eyes were watching from the edges of the darkness.
"I need a place to cultivate," Mo Han murmured under his breath, his tone thoughtful rather than anxious. "Somewhere quiet… and away from prying eyes. If I want to understand the nature of the shadow seed, I'll have to start alone."
The wind carried his words away.
---
He left the clan's main compound behind, following a narrow forest trail that wound between towering pines and jagged boulders. The forest was silent save for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Moonlight filtered through the branches, painting everything in shades of silver and black.
After a while, he found what he was looking for — a small cave half-hidden behind a curtain of ivy, overlooking the misty ravine below. The air was damp, cool, and quiet — perfect for cultivation.
Mo Han stepped inside. The stone walls were rough, but dry enough to sit comfortably. He placed the pouch and the scroll before him, then sat cross-legged upon the ground. For a long moment, he simply breathed, letting his mind settle. The events of the day — the awakening, the ceremony, the weight of expectation — all faded into the background.
Now, there was only stillness.
Only the faint pulse of his own spirit.
He reached for the Shadow Scroll.
The parchment was cold to the touch. As he unrolled it slowly, the faint symbols carved into its surface shimmered, as though absorbing the dim light of the cave. Then, lines of ancient text began to appear — elegant, deliberate strokes that seemed to writhe like living shadows.
A faint whisper echoed in his mind. Not words, but impressions — fragments of thought, emotion, memory. The knowledge of countless predecessors, preserved within the scroll's depths, waiting for him to unravel.
Mo Han's eyes sharpened.
"So this is… the legacy of the shadow."
He leaned closer, reading the first line that surfaced.
> *To walk the path of shadow is to abandon the comfort of light. Where others seek radiance, you must embrace the unseen. The shadow is not your enemy, nor your tool — it is your reflection.*
Mo Han's lips curved slightly — not quite a smile, but something close. "Then let's see just how deep this shadow goes."
He closed his eyes and began to meditate, guiding his chi inward, focusing on the newly awakened seed within his dantian. For a moment, he felt nothing. Then, like ink spreading through clear water, darkness bloomed behind his eyelids — cool, weightless, endless.