The bells of the Heavenly Sky Sect tolled thrice.
Each echo rolled down the mountain like thunder — the mark of a crime against Heaven's Will.
Chains clinked softly against the white stone road. Lu Tianheng walked at an unhurried pace, eyes half-lidded, the faint curve of amusement tugging at his lips.
All around him, disciples gathered on the steps, whispering as if beholding some fallen god.
"That's the Young Master?"
"He killed the Heaven's Child…"
"He's smiling—like he's proud of it."
Lu Tianheng chuckled under his breath.
"Look at these fools staring at me," he murmured, his tone soft, detached — like a scholar commenting on the weather. "As if the heavens would collapse just because their pet got slaughtered."
He entered the grand Judgement Hall.
Rows of elders sat beneath the towering celestial murals. Incense curled in the air — cold, ceremonial, and suffocating.
High above, the Sect Master's gaze pressed down like a mountain. Beside him stood Dao Ren, his face pale and bandaged, hatred trembling in his eyes.
Lu Tianheng raised his head, meeting that gaze without a flicker of guilt.
"So," he said lightly, "what is it this time?"
The Sect Master's tone was deep, controlled.
"Lu Tianheng, you killed Heaven's Child. You stand before Heaven's Mandate itself."
A hush followed.
Lu Tianheng's smirk widened. "Heaven's Child?" His voice dripped with irony. "I only killed a man who mistook Heaven for his reflection. That kid started acting all high and mighty after one enlightenment."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The boldness was unthinkable — blasphemy woven into silk.
Dao Ren clenched his fists. "You dare mock Heaven's will?!"
But Lu Tianheng wasn't listening.
A faint shimmer drifted before his eyes — thin golden threads, barely visible to others, weaving and pulsing above every figure in the hall.
Threads of Fate.
The brightest ones twined around Dao Ren and the Sect Master. But one more thread flickered faintly from afar — pulling toward a familiar name whispered in memory.
A figure entered the hall. Silver frost lined her robes, her expression cold enough to silence even the murmurs.
Leng Yuexin.
The Sect's Ice Fairy — and the body's childhood companion.
Lu Tianheng's thoughts stirred, dry amusement crossing his mind.
"So, she's this body's destined wife. How poetic."
The Sect Master's gaze darkened. "As you are my son, useless as you may be, the Sect's oath forbids me from execution. Until judgment from Heaven descends, you will be confined to the Sky Prison Tower."
Dao Ren stepped forward instantly. "He deserves death! Master, that monster—"
But a soft, cold voice interrupted.
Leng Yuexin bowed slightly. "The Sect's law must not be swayed by anger… and please—just let him go."
The hall fell silent.
Her words weren't mercy — they were the weight of duty, shaped by an ancient oath.
The Sect Master's eyes flicked toward her. "Then you shall watch him. Until judgment, he will not move a single step without your presence."
She nodded. The meaning was clear — a bodyguard, not a protector.
Lu Tianheng watched her from his chains, that faint smile never leaving his face.
"Still loyal to the corpse of fate…" he murmured, almost to himself. "Pitiful girl. Maybe I should reward your honesty someday."
The Sky Prison Tower stood at the mountain's edge — an ancient spire of black jade veined with sealing talismans that pulsed faintly in the moonlight. Cold mist coiled around its base like silent snakes.
A single door groaned open. Chains of spirit-steel dragged across the floor as Lu Tianheng was led inside. His footsteps echoed, calm and unhurried, each one falling like a deliberate mockery of judgment itself.
Dao Ren followed close behind, his arm still bound in white cloth. Hatred burned in his eyes — not righteous fury, but something darker, personal. Leng Yuexin walked beside them, sword at her waist, her presence like a winter breeze that could cut skin.
The guards sealed the gate behind them, and the world went still.
Inside, the tower was a hollow cylinder of stone and silence. Dim spiritual flames flickered in the walls, painting shadows that twisted like living things.
Lu Tianheng sat cross-legged within the glowing array that bound him, the faint shimmer of suppression runes dancing along his skin.
He tilted his head toward the other two. "Quite the hospitality. You could at least offer tea."
Dao Ren's knuckles cracked. "You'll be lucky if you ever taste water again."
Leng Yuexin's eyes flickered, her tone quiet. "Enough. The Sect's law forbids harm before judgment."
Her words were dutiful, yet her voice wavered faintly — a ghost of something unspoken.
Lu Tianheng caught it, of course. He always did.
"You really believe law will save anyone?" he asked lazily. "Heaven's Mandate changes its mind more often than mortals breathe."
Dao Ren barked, "Blasphemy again!"
But Tianheng's gaze had already turned inward. The faint glimmer of gold surfaced in his pupils — the Threads of Fate flickering in the dark like candlelight. He could feel them pulsing through the tower's stone, stretching beyond, touching the entire Sect like veins of destiny.
A wry smile crept onto his lips.
"Half the Fate Points to sow chaos," he whispered silently to the void within his mind. "Summon the Demonic Sects. Let's see how fragile Heaven's order truly is."
A soft chime echoed in his consciousness.
—Fate expenditure confirmed. Chaotic resonance initialized.
Far away, clouds began to boil.
At first, it was only a murmur in the wind — a shift in spiritual pressure that made the runes on the tower flicker. Then came the thunder. Black clouds rolled over the moon, and a crimson light seeped through the night like spilled blood.
Dao Ren turned toward the window slit. "What—what is that aura?"
Leng Yuexin's hand tightened on her sword. Outside, flames surged across the distant peaks. The Heavenly Sky Sect — untouchable for centuries — was burning.
The roar of battle carried through the mountains: demonic laughter, the crash of collapsing wards, the scream of dying disciples.
Inside the tower, the floor quivered. Dust rained from the ceiling as the seals flickered violently.
Leng Yuexin's eyes widened. "An invasion? Now?"
Dao Ren's voice trembled. "Impossible! The barrier—"
A low, amused laugh cut through the chaos.
Lu Tianheng tilted his head back against the stone wall, smiling faintly as flames reflected in his eyes.
"Hehehe…," the sound escaped him, soft but chilling. Then he exhaled, the mirth fading into calm composure.
He looked up through the iron bars toward the burning sky.
"And so," he murmured, voice smooth as silk, "the first debt is paid."
His eyes turned to the two beside him — one trembling with hatred, the other frozen between duty and fear.
"Shall we get out of here now, ladies?"
The tower shook again, the chains rattling like laughter.
Outside, the heavens burned.