Chapter 47 : Blood Moon Rising

Valeria stirred beneath the faint shimmer of moonlight, a city caught between life and lingering shadows. Though its heartbeat had begun to return, the weight of history clung like a second skin, heavy and unyielding.

Smoke curled from scattered chimneys, tracing thin spirals into the cold night air. Market stalls had reopened in the inner circles, timidly welcoming the tentative steps of commerce.

In the heart of the city, Lana and Arielle worked tirelessly, pillars amidst the slow rebirth. Lana had taken command of logistics and internal affairs, moving through the stone halls with quiet authority.

Her presence required no announcement, yet commanded respect from all who crossed her path. The roots of her royal blood and the sting of exile forged a leader people naturally gravitated toward.

Draped in a deep emerald robe that balanced practicality with elegance, she carried herself with poised determination. Her dark hair was pinned high, framing a face marked by focus as she reviewed scrolls and assigned duties.

"The south gate still needs reinforcement," Lana muttered under her breath, eyes scanning a parchment map spread across a heavy oak table. "We need more hands for the irrigation line. Redirect the flow, and the southern fields could bloom within a month."

Two young cultivators stood before her, recently pledged to Jin's rule, neither belonging to any sect. They bore the worn faces of survivors, fleeing war in distant lands and seeking shelter in Valeria's fragile peace.

"I trust you understand that strength alone does not grant position," Lana said calmly, voice firm but fair. "Discipline and loyalty are what elevate a man; serve the people, and your path will open."

The cultivators bowed deeply, more respectfully than before, their eyes alight with newfound determination. Lana dismissed them with a nod, already moving mentally two steps ahead to the next challenge.

Nearby, Arielle tended to the city's morale, medical aid, and fledgling diplomacy, weaving threads of hope where despair once ruled. She possessed a softer touch than Lana, yet her words carried a quiet, unbreakable steel.

A healer by training, Arielle had organized rotating clinics, working with the scant herbs and growing knowledge of local plants. On this day, she sat beside a child whose arm bore the burn of a careless fire, her hands steady and gentle.

"This will sting for a moment," she warned softly as she wrapped the wound, careful to ease the boy's fear. The child winced but did not cry, clutching the small carved wooden dragon she pressed into his hand.

"For luck," she said with a smile. "Don't lose it."

She stood, stretching slowly, her silver-blonde hair catching the fading sunlight like strands of spun light. Lana approached, carrying two steaming mugs of tea, her eyes weary but resolute.

"You need to rest," Lana said softly, handing a mug to Arielle with care.

Arielle smiled wryly, accepting the warmth. "And so do you. But here we are, caught in this endless work."

The two women settled at the edge of the central square, the undead patrols moving silently beyond them like ghostly rivers. "It still feels strange, doesn't it?" Arielle murmured quietly. "All of this—the dead walking, the city rebuilding, and us holding the reins."

Lana nodded, gaze fixed on the darkening horizon. "It does. But it's ours to guide now. Jin entrusted it to us."

"You speak like a queen," Arielle teased, a spark lighting her pale eyes.

"Maybe I used to be," Lana replied softly. "Now I'm just trying to be useful."

Their fragile moment was shattered by the sharp clatter of boots on stone. From the gates, a figure staggered forward, bloodied and exhausted—a scout. Lana was the first to her feet, alert and commanding.

"Report," she ordered, eyes narrowing as the scout collapsed against the wall.

"Bandits," the scout gasped between breaths. "Thirty strong. Half a day south near the old trade post. Not sect-affiliated. Just opportunistic looters."

Arielle's gaze flicked toward the city walls, tension tightening her shoulders. "Are they moving toward us?"

"Not yet," the scout wheezed. "But they asked about Valeria—called it 'the city of the dead.'"

Lana's jaw clenched in determination. "We prepare a response. Thank you. Rest now."

The scout bowed and was swiftly escorted to the infirmary. Arielle exchanged a sharp glance with Lana, concern shadowing her features.

"We can't send Jin after every bandit prowling nearby," Arielle said quietly, voice edged with worry.

"We won't," Lana assured, voice low but resolute. "Let the undead do what they were made for. But I want to know who commands these looters. Who dares test Valeria now."

That night, Jin returned, his footsteps echoing softly in the war chamber. Lana and Arielle were bent over maps, illuminated by the flickering flame of an oil lamp. They looked up as he entered, sensing the shift in his presence.

He appeared different—not merely tired, but transformed. His eyes held a dangerous stillness, like a blade honed through countless hours of patient sharpening.

"You're late," Arielle said, rising with concern.

"Training," Jin answered simply, voice steady. "Shenwu pushed me hard today. I made a breakthrough."

He stepped forward, fingers tracing lines on the map. "What is this?"

Lana briefed him rapidly. "Scouts report a bandit force to the south. They haven't moved yet but have been asking questions about Valeria."

Jin studied the map carefully, weighing the threat. "Send four units. No more. Surround the outpost quietly. Observe. If they attack, eliminate them. If they flee, follow one. Find out who they serve."

He looked up, voice sharp. "We are no longer unknown. Word is spreading. The sects won't remain idle."

Arielle stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "You should rest. Your energy… it feels different. Deeper."

He smiled faintly, acknowledging her concern. "I understand spirit qi now. I'm not just wielding it. I'm listening."

A silent understanding passed between them, a bond of shared purpose stronger than words.

The next morning, the three stood atop the western wall as the sun rose, bathing Valeria in soft gold. Below, Lady Veyra, the sentient undead guardian, stood vigilant at her post—unmoving but alert.

Jin spoke quietly, reverence in his tone. "She remembers her son. She served this city once before. Now, she serves it again. But she thinks. She feels. She's not merely a tool."

Lana nodded, eyes thoughtful. "You're giving them back their souls."

"Maybe," Jin admitted. "Or perhaps they never truly lost them."

He turned to face Lana and Arielle. "I want to name her commander of the western ward. And begin selecting others for the other gates. Not just undead, but living—loyal and strong."

Arielle's voice was awed. "You're building a kingdom."

Jin's eyes gleamed with quiet fire. "I'm building something better. A legacy."

They watched in silence as undead patrols passed beneath them like pale rivers flowing through the city.

Then, on the horizon, the sky shifted subtly. A faint reddish hue spread like spilled ink.

Jin's eyes narrowed. "The Blood Moon. It comes sooner than I expected."

That night, Jin prepared for what was to come. The mountain trail was darker than usual, the sky tinged with unnatural colors—neither fully red nor black, but a bruised in-between.

As he climbed, Shenwu's voice returned, echoing deep in his mind. "Soulfire Cliff awaits. There, you will not only see yourself—you will confront what was buried before you were born."

At the cliff's peak, the wind howled fiercely, carrying the scent of distant fire and cold ash. The stars above seemed to twist and shift, as if reality itself was bending.

The blood moon hung overhead like an open wound, casting eerie light on the jagged rocks. Jin sat, centering breath, body, and soul into perfect stillness.

The moment his eyes closed, the world dissolved into a dreamscape.

Valeria burned in hellish flames.

Corpses littered the streets, the cries of the living twisted into screams. Undead turned on civilians, chaos drowning hope.

At the center of the carnage stood a figure—himself. A future self. Golden eyes blazing with cruel fire beneath crimson armor. A cloak of bones trailing like a dark river.

"This is what you become," the figure intoned, voice cold as death. "The cost of power without restraint."

Jin stepped forward defiantly. "I will not become you."

The future Jin sneered. "You already are. You command death, reject loyalty, and believe strength alone suffices."

"I command death to protect life," Jin growled, fists clenched. "I walk alone so those I love won't bear this burden."

The future Jin raised a hand, unleashing a tide of blood-red energy.

Jin raised his own, meeting the wave with roaring force.

Their powers collided in a storm of light and shadow, shattering the dream.

Jin awoke in darkness, heart pounding, soaked in sweat.

The system spoke clearly.

[Trial Complete]

You have faced your future self and rejected corruption.

Ancient Skill Unlocked: Echo Pulse Vein

Paragon Heavenly Technique: Stage Two Active

New Passive Effect: Soul Echo

(Your qi now carries intent. Allies near you recover faster. Undead within 100 meters gain increased coordination.)

Jin rose slowly, the wind wrapping around him like a protective cloak.

The blood moon faded, but its mark burned inside him.

He descended the mountain with renewed purpose.

No longer just a warrior, ruler, or cultivator.

He was becoming a force of nature.

The world would know his name.

Not through whispers of sects or legends, but through the relentless steps he carved into the mountain, one grueling trial at a time.