Chapter 8. Records Of Great Families

The flickering flames of the candles cast erratic shadows as the dancers, clad in pristine white robes, moved with an otherworldly grace. Each figure adorned with identical masks devoid of any openings. Atop their heads rested long branches, Atop their heads rested long branches, their sharp tips honed with meticulous precision.

The air was alive with the sound of youthful voices raised in song, their dance a whirlwind of intoxicating movement and speed that held spectators in rapt attention. Long branches from the Sai trees protruded from their sleeves, transforming the once spacious hall into a forest of verdant foliage. Even the statues of beasts seemed to take on a demonic aspect in the flickering light, while enormous drums mounted on the columns thundered with the force of the dancers' fervor.

As the chant reached its crescendo, the pounding of the drums drowned out all other sound, reverberating through the air like a tempest unleashed.

Gald's senses were overwhelmed by the cacophony, a sharp pain stabbing at his ears and the back of his head. Pressing his forehead against the cool marble walls for support, he shut his eyes tightly in a futile attempt to block out the sensory onslaught. 

The walls themselves seemed to ripple like the surface of a disturbed pond, while sweat poured down his face and his red eyes clouded with confusion.

Struggling to maintain his composure, Gald reached out as if trying to grasp hold of the elusive melody, but his lips could not form the unfamiliar words. Eventually, overcome by exhaustion, he sank to his knees as darkness engulfed the hall, leaving only the pounding of his own heart to fill the void.

In that moment of silence, Gald's senses returned to him, and he became acutely aware of a metallic tang in the air, mingled with a nauseating scent that left a bitter taste lingering in his mouth. As he touched his ears, he felt something wet and sticky, a disconcerting realization dawning upon him.

Struggling against the disorienting haze that clouded his mind, Gald attempted to rise, but his limbs refused to obey, each movement a struggle against the feverish chaos within. With effort, he managed to prop himself up on unsteady legs, his nails digging into the floor for support.

Saliva dribbled from his lips, mingling with the disarray of his hair and the tatters of his clothes.

"The heir of the Wuya Sect," Gald heard in the darkness, the voice of Elder Gufu piercing through the nightmare that gripped him. The old man's presence seemed to pull him back from the brink of oblivion, though the pain that wracked his body was almost unbearable.

"Remain still. Your inner realm has been assailed by the guardian of the main hall," Elder Gufu's voice advised before Gald's consciousness slipped away once more.

Elder Gufu motioned to the servants, silently directing them to carry the wounded youth to an empty chamber.

Not a patch of untouched skin remained on Gald's body. The old man observed with a steely gaze as blood pooled beneath him. The marble floor of the main hall harbored hidden mechanisms, one of which was now in action, absorbing every drop of blood with meticulous efficiency.

The drums resumed their eerie melody as spectral figures, a hundred strong, began their haunting song once more.

"No sacrifice was required this time. It seems we've managed to appease the guardian of the Oblivion Lake at a trifling cost," remarked one of the elders, their voice muffled behind a white mask.

"Truly, it is a blessing. And it has been less than a day since the chosen one's birth," chimed in another.

"In any case, greater care must be taken in preparing the next victim," came Gufu's chilling response.

"We never imagined that the weak from birth would succumb to the effects of mana before getting to the essence of the ritual!" The speaker's voice cracked with bitterness and remorse. "Now we will have to look for the weak outside the Palace in the coming months!"

"Have you forgotten the first rule?" Gufu seized the speaker by the collar, the fabric tearing under his grip, eliciting gasps from the onlookers.

"Since the chosen one's birth, the villages will no longer send concubines! Sooner or later, we'll have no alternative!" The captive man removed his mask, revealing a visage marred by scars. His nose was absent, and his left eye socket appeared as a dark void, seemingly swallowing the very essence of those who beheld it.

"Today, we spill the blood of a future Martial Artist. Tomorrow, the blood of a hundred immortals will flow, and the day after, nothing will remain but this cursed lake," Gufu spat out each word with disdain. "Henceforth, all weaklings will be bred outside the palace. Employ capable individuals for this task. As for concubines, they serve no purpose now and can be redirected to other rites."

"Records Of Great Families—"

"When we fled from the crazed mobs of cannibals, whose faces were smeared with dark blood, we did not know about the fate that we had prepared for future generations. The initial layers soaked in mana served as our shield, but the subsequent ones turned into shackles that bound us...

...Our Home to a Myriad of Creatures stands on the ancient bones of a long-forgotten creature, but its Will is preserved. We called his remains the Oblivion Lake..

...We pray to all the gods that this creature sleeps forever, so that it does not awaken from the depths of oblivion..."