Chapter 4: The Hidden Mark

Lin Tian's vision blurred, and his head swam. The overwhelming surge of dark energy had taken its toll. His limbs felt heavy, his body unresponsive, and before he could even process what was happening, everything around him faded into darkness. His body crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The woman, still on her knees, stared in shock as the boy—no, the cultivator—who had just displayed such unearthly power, collapsed before her. Her pulse quickened, and she felt a pang of fear. No one, not even the strongest cultivators she knew, could unleash such chaotic and terrifying energy and then suddenly fall into unconsciousness.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she surveyed him. Despite his seeming weakness, there was no denying the unnatural force that had surged through him earlier. What was it? What had caused that overwhelming dark flame?

Still, she couldn't afford to waste time thinking about it. She had to act quickly. The boy's condition was worsening, and if he wasn't taken care of soon, he might die. His unstable energy might tear him apart from the inside out. Without thinking, she hoisted him onto her shoulder, gritting her teeth at his weight, and began to carry him toward her personal quarters within the sect.

The path back to her quarters was quiet, and the weight of Lin Tian's body was a constant reminder of the strange events that had transpired. Once inside, the woman gently laid him down on a cot, carefully adjusting his position to make sure he was comfortable. But even as she did, her mind was racing. There was something deeply unnatural about him, something she couldn't shake.

She quickly gathered a few talismans and placed them around him, sealing him in place with a series of intricate spiritual bindings. These talismans would prevent him from moving or releasing any residual energy while she investigated what was happening inside his body.

With a sigh, the woman began to examine him more closely, her hands hovering over his body as she channeled her own spiritual Qi. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she searched for any signs of instability within his energy flow. She pressed her palms gently against his chest, focusing her Qi to feel the rhythms of his internal forces.

As her energy connected with his, something unexpected occurred. Instead of the smooth, harmonious flow of Qi that usually existed in a cultivator's body, she felt something jarring. It was as if something foreign was lodged deep inside him. A chaotic, dark energy pulsed beneath the surface of his skin, like a black hole consuming everything in its path.

The woman gasped, pulling her hands back in alarm. She had never felt anything like it. This energy wasn't something that should be possible for someone with a weak spirit root—yet here it was, wreaking havoc inside his body.

Her breath hitched, and she pressed her hands to her temples, trying to steady herself. Her Qi rippled violently as the sensation of the black hole deepened. It was consuming not just the boy's Qi, but also his very essence. It was feeding off him.

Her fear intensified. What had caused this? The boy wasn't supposed to be capable of holding this kind of power, not with a weak spirit root like his. And yet, there it was. The unmistakable feeling of a void, of something unnatural, within him.

As she continued to probe deeper, she suddenly felt a sharp, searing pain in her forehead, as though something was being branded onto her soul. She gasped and stumbled backward, clutching her head in agony.

"What—what is this?" she whispered, eyes wide with panic.

Her mind swirled, and she saw visions—visions of a dark, swirling flame, of a vast abyss, of ancient, unfathomable power that felt both horrifying and alluring. It was as though something was trying to reach out to her, to mark her as its own.

With a flash of light, a glowing sigil materialized above her head. A complex, dark symbol, a soul mark, embedded itself deep into her consciousness. It felt like a scar, like something had been branded onto her very soul.

The woman stumbled backward, her hand flying to her forehead in shock and confusion. The pain slowly subsided, but the mark remained—unseen by others, yet impossible for her to ignore.

This wasn't just some random encounter. No, this was something far more significant. She looked at Lin Tian's unconscious form with new understanding. The boy wasn't just some weak cultivator with an unstable spirit root. No, he was something far more dangerous—a vessel for a power that shouldn't even exist.

What was this power? And why had it chosen him?