Chapter Thirty-Two: Unveiled Shadows

Roderic Vane sat cross-legged in the shadowed nook of the academy library, the black-bound tome Veil of Shadows: The Shattered Legacy cradled in his lap—its cracked leather cool against his fingers, silver inlays glinting faintly under the dim light filtering through high slits in the stone walls. His red novice robe pooled around him, boots scuffed from his trek, the slim Ember Codex resting forgotten beside him. The relic pulsed in his core—a steady hum, its jagged edges a familiar weight he'd carried since the quarry—but now, as he traced the etched shard on the book's cover, its mirrored image sent a shiver racing up his spine, qi flaring faintly as if answering a call. He knew little—its power surged his qi through intimacy, a dual cultivation trick he'd stumbled into with Lira—but its roots, its truth, were a void he burned to fill.

He opened the tome—pages creaking, dust puffing in a faint cloud—the faded script curling in tight, angular strokes, silver ink shimmering as if infused with qi, the first illustration a sprawling map of ancient Hearth Hollow, its edges scorched black, villages marked with crimson slashes. His hazel eyes widened—breath catching—as the opening line sank in: "The Shattered Veil, born of Veyris the Unbroken, forged a legacy of chaos that sundered realms…" The words gripped him—his qi pulsing, fire qi flickering red in his palms—cultivation no jest as he plunged into the history unfolding before him.

The text painted Veyris—first mistress of the Veil—in strokes of awe and dread: a cultivator of unearthly beauty, her hair a cascade of midnight silk, eyes twin voids of starlit black, her qi a tempest of chaos and spirit that shattered Nascent Soul barriers in a mere decade. She'd unearthed a rift—a tear in the realm's fabric—where void spirits writhed, their whispers promising power beyond mortal grasp. "Through rites of flesh and soul," the book read, "Veyris bound these spirits, forging the Veil Core—a lattice of shards pulsing with their essence…" Roderic's fingers tightened—hazel eyes darting—the relic in his core flaring, its hum sharpening as if it recognized its own tale, a jagged echo of that lattice.

The Core's creation stunned him—illustrations sprawled across pages, etched in silver: a crystalline web of shards, each jagged and irregular, suspended in a vortex of black qi, crimson veins threading through like blood in a living heart. "Its power," the text declared, "fed on dual cultivation—intimatemoment with void-touched flesh igniting qi in torrents…" His breath hitched—fire qi flaring brighter—the book detailing rites where Veyris and her lieutenants coupled with spirit-infused lovers, their qi surging from Initiate to Core Formation in weeks, not years, a blaze that lit Hearth Hollow's skies with eerie, shifting hues. He saw it—Lira's surge, his own leaps—mirrored in these ancient acts, the relic's hum a whisper of that forbidden flame.

But the vividness deepened—pages turned to the Core's might: "A single shard leveled mountains—its qi tore rifts, summoning void storms that swallowed armies…" An etching showed it—a shard-wielder, cloaked in black, thrusting a jagged fragment skyward, crimson qi erupting in a spiral that split the heavens, black winds howling as stone shattered, villages vanishing in a blink. Roderic's jaw dropped—hazel eyes wide—the relic could do that? His qi surged—fire qi roaring in his chest, spirit qi threading gold—as he imagined it, a power to break realms, pulsing in his core, a secret he'd barely tapped.

The history unfurled—Veyris's reign painted in blood and shadow: "Her Veil razed Hearth Hollow—five hundred villages burned, their ashes a carpet for her dominion…" A map sprawled—red lines tracing her conquest, rivers rerouted by qi blasts, mountains crumbled to dust. Her lieutenants—nine in all—wielded shards, their qi a symphony of chaos: one summoned void beasts—hulking shadows with claws of night—another wove qi into chains that bound Core Formation elders like novices. Roderic's fingers trembled—tracing a shard's image—the relic's hum a chant now, low and rhythmic, as if it sang of its past, its potential a weight crushing his breath.

Yet the book turned darker—"The Core's gift was its curse…"—vivid accounts spilling forth: lieutenants rising fast, their qi blazing, only to falter mid-battle, bodies searing from within, flesh peeling to ash as chaos consumed them, their screams etched in silver ink. "Veyris lasted longest—seven decades—before her qi turned, a pyre of her own making…" An illustration gripped him—Veyris atop a peak, midnight hair whipping, black qi spiraling as her skin cracked, crimson flames bursting from within, ash raining as she burned out, her shard falling to earth. His qi faltered—fire dimming—the relic's hum a taunt, its power stunning, its price a shadow he hadn't seen.

The Five Clans rose—"Twelve years of war shattered the Core…"—their qi clashing in a vivid tableau: silver storms of spirit, golden torrents of fire, emerald gales of wind rending the Veil's black qi, a final strike splitting the lattice, shards scattering across realms. "Sealed—lost—until now…" the text warned, silver ink fading as if reluctant to reveal more. Roderic's heart pounded—hazel eyes locked on the shard's image—the relic in his core pulsing wild, a whisper curling in his mind: "More—take more…" 

Roderic remained sat in the cross-legged position...in the shadowed nook of the academy library, the black-bound tome Veil of Shadows: The Shattered Legacy heavy in his lap—its cracked leather worn under his fingers, silver inlays glinting faintly under the dim light filtering through high slits in the stone walls. His red novice robe pooled around him, boots scuffed from his trek, The Ember Codex forgotten beside him. The relic pulsed in his core—a steady hum, its jagged edges a familiar weight—but as he traced the etched shard on the book's cover, its mirrored image sent a shiver up his spine, qi flaring as if answering a call. He'd plunged into its history—Veyris the Unbroken's chaos, dual cultivation rites, realm-shattering power, and consuming curse—stunned by its vivid revelations, hazel eyes wide, breath ragged.

He turned the page—silver ink shimmering—the text shifting to a chilling coda: "The Core's shattering birthed not one shard, but 6 more—scattered across realms, sealed in unknown lairs…" His qi surged—fire qi flaring crimson in his palms—hazel eyes darting over an illustration: a fractured lattice, shards spiraling outward, each etched with jagged lines, silver veins pulsing like frozen blood, flung to shadowed corners of the world. "Sealed by the Five Clans—hidden in rifts, tombs, void-touched wastes—lost to time…" Roderic's fingers tightened—breath catching—the relic in his core humming sharper, as if it sensed kin, its etched twin on the page a mere fragment of a greater whole.

The book warned—"Each shard retains the Core's might—dual rites igniting qi beyond mortal grasp, chaos unbound…"—vivid accounts spilling forth: a shard unearthed in a desert rift, summoning a void storm that devoured a sect in hours; another sealed beneath a frozen peak, whispering chants that drove cultivators mad, their qi blazing until flesh turned to ash. His mind reeled—More—out there?—the relic's hum a chant now, low and insistent, urging him to seek, to claim. If they're found—wrong hands… His qi flared—fire qi roaring, spirit qi threading gold—as he envisioned it: god-tier cultivators wielding shards, razing realms as Veyris had, evil reborn in crimson floods. Devastating—have to find them, he resolved—cultivation no jest—vengeance flickering, a spark to protect what he could.

But doubt crept in—I'm not strong enough—not yet. His Middle Initiate qi, four times peers', was a spark to their infernos; the relic's power surged through intimacy, but its plateau with Lira showed limits. Need more—stronger first, he thought—hazel eyes narrowing—sadness sinking as he flipped back, the attack on the academy flashing in his mind: novices gutted, adepts fallen, blood soaking stone. They came for this—for me, he realized—the tome's history tying the masked assault to the relic's pulse, its draw a beacon he'd unknowingly lit. Guilt twisted—They died—because of me—vengeance burning hotter, a crimson ember in his chest, his qi flaring as he gripped the book, knuckles whitening. Stronger—then I'll hunt them, he vowed—those who'd struck, their blood a debt he'd claim.

The academy's path—Flame Soul Art, drills, lessons—loomed in his thoughts, but the book's truth shifted it: Too slow—their way won't cut it. His qi flared—fire qi pulsing—the relic demanded more, a dual cultivation path shadowed in taboo, its history a map he'd follow secretly. Lira—others—new beauties, he mused—nonchalant grin fading—his journey now a clandestine blaze, hidden from elders' eyes.

Pages turned—hours bled into night—the silver ink a hypnotic lure, each word a hammer to his resolve. Dawn broke—faint light seeping through slits—dust motes swirling as he closed the tome, its cracked leather thudding shut. His qi hummed—endless, fierce—hazel eyes wide with awe and dread, stunned by the relic's legacy, its other shards a call he couldn't ignore, vengeance and power burning as he stood, the nigh

t spent in revelation.