Bell (1)

The king dismissed the court, and as he rose from his seat, the elders silently followed him to his private chambers. The air was tense, filled with the weight of what they had just witnessed. Once inside, the king sat down and tapped his desk lightly. Though the power and responsibility of ruling Myril elevated him, even the king could not dismiss what had occurred.

Old Lin, the most senior of the elders, was the first to speak, breaking the heavy silence. "It's the legend of the Shadow," he muttered, his voice low but trembling with meaning.

The younger elders gasped at the mention of it, their faces a mix of awe and fear. They had all heard whispers of the tale—of a creature who had once been a human legend, a figure who had led mankind out of subjugation by other races, carving a path for humanity to become the dominant species.

This was a story of an ancient era, back when the world's will was in its rebellious youth, arrogant and dissatisfied. It was said that Fareth, the Shadow, had defied not only this world but the greater heavens themselves. And for his defiance, the heavens had cast him into endless reincarnation, condemning him to live and die over and over, each time with a limited lifespan. The exact duration of his existence remained a secret known only to Fareth, a detail that shrouded his legend in mystery.

Historians and scholars had long debated whether Fareth had been quietly accumulating power in the shadows, preparing to challenge the heavens once again. However, few believed it possible to survive the wrath of the heavens, let alone rise against them. More widely accepted was the idea that Fareth was an auspicious beast, one whose presence could bring either blessings or calamity to whatever era he appeared in. What set him apart was his golden eyes and ageless aura—features that, even as a young beast, hinted at the weight of centuries upon him.

Meanwhile, in a newly cleaned and luxurious mansion gifted to him by Princess Jhonye, Fareth lay in thought. The sunlight poured into the room, reflecting in his golden eyes, giving the illusion that he was simply relaxing. But he wasn't.

He was attempting to sense a bell—not just any bell, but one he had tasked the founder of this kingdom to craft during his 100th incarnation. That founder, Myril, had once been a beggar girl, her humble beginnings now obscured by the weight of her legacy. The bell was designed to store memories he had sealed away, memories erased so that the heavens could not pry into them after each death. The moment he sensed it, Fareth began to laugh, a low, maniacal sound that echoed through the mansion.

The maids and servants, startled by the strange sound, were quick to calm themselves. After all, it wasn't the first unusual thing they had seen from this creature. The noble beast's laughter was oddly cute, but its mysterious nature unsettled them nonetheless. They continued to focus on their tasks, remembering the princess's instructions to attend to the "young master's" every need. Surprisingly, he had been relatively low-maintenance so far, a strange contrast to the tales of unruly demon beasts.

As Fareth's laughter subsided, he whispered to himself, "So what if this body isn't the perfect vessel? In this life, I'll finally see to it that I crush that old bastard who cursed me to this wretched fate without even a word of warning. The heavens think they can dictate my existence? They'll soon learn that shadows can never be contained."

It's been a month since the court session

In the palace, Princess Jhonye sat in her chambers, pondering the elders' conversation. The tale of Fareth stirred something within her—an unquenchable curiosity. She had always been drawn to the mysteries of the cultivation system, knowing that strength could shift the balance of power in Myril. Her training as a cultivator now was rigorous, and she often felt the weight of expectations on her shoulders. But she had never shied away from challenges.

As she gazed out the window, she thought of Fareth—the enigmatic beast who had entered her life. His legend spoke of power, of defiance against the heavens, and she couldn't help but wonder how his story intertwined with her own destiny.

High atop a fog-covered mountain, in a temple built for seclusion, a youth in a pristine white robe sat in meditation. On his forehead was a striking red third eye, glowing faintly as his emotions flared. The news of Myril canceling his engagement had just reached him. His expression twisted with fury.

"How dare they?" Heaven's Dao Child Ziyu growled, his hand slamming onto the stone floor beneath him. The force of his blow sent a tremor through the temple, rattling its very foundation. He felt the currents of power coursing through him, a reminder of his cultivation—higher than most, yet it was not enough to quell the insult.

To challenge his status was to challenge the heavens themselves. Myril would pay dearly for this affront.