Unseen Chains

The fortress stood in eerie silence. The battlefield, once filled with the echoes of ancient war, had gone still. Yet Zhao Feng could feel it—a presence lingering in the air, watching.

His fingers curled unconsciously. That vision… It hadn't been a simple memory. It had been a message.

And messages always had senders.

He forced his breath to steady, gathering his Qi to scan his body. The golden wisp that had merged with him left no visible trace, but he could still feel it. A quiet ember buried deep in his core, woven into his very essence.

It had changed something.

His Qi moved differently now—more refined, more precise. But it wasn't just strength. It was as if something fundamental had shifted in the way his energy interacted with the world around him.

Experimenting, he flicked a Void Edge forward. The moment the blade formed, he felt it—a sharper pull on the surrounding space. The technique had always been precise, but now, it felt inevitable.

Like reality itself was bending just slightly in his favor.

Zhao Feng's eyes narrowed. This isn't normal.

He had trained relentlessly to refine his techniques, yet this was something else entirely. As if the wisp had anchored him more firmly into the world, making his control over Qi more natural.

He exhaled slowly. I need to test this properly.

The fortress had been a battleground, but there were still deeper layers to explore. If there were more remnants here, they would make for perfect tests.

With a final glance at the ruined courtyard, he moved forward, stepping past the remains of the fallen remnant. The deeper I go, the more answers I'll find.

---

As Zhao Feng ventured further into the fortress, the air grew thicker. Not just with Qi, but something older.

A weight pressed down on him—not physical, but spiritual.

The walls were lined with inscriptions, but unlike the warnings he had seen before, these were different. Their markings pulsed faintly, shifting when he tried to focus on them.

Somehow, they felt aware.

Zhao Feng's expression darkened. This place wasn't just a ruin. It was alive.

And something within it was stirring.

His steps slowed as he entered a vast, circular chamber. Unlike the rest of the fortress, this place had been untouched by time. No cracks marred the stone. No moss crept along the walls.

At the center of the room, a pedestal stood, bathed in a faint, golden glow.

Zhao Feng's pulse quickened. The energy radiating from it was identical to the wisp that had entered his body.

This wasn't just some relic of the past.

It was connected to him now.

He stepped forward.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the air shattered.

Chains, invisible yet unyielding, wrapped around his limbs. His Qi stuttered, refusing to move. His breath hitched as an overwhelming presence crushed down on him.

Then, a voice.

"Unworthy."

Zhao Feng's vision blurred. The room seemed to expand infinitely around him, the walls stretching into the void. His body felt heavy, as if something was trying to bind him in place.

But he wasn't someone who accepted chains.

His Qi roared to life, the golden ember within him igniting. The presence faltered, the chains wavering. Zhao Feng pushed forward, his will clashing against the unseen force.

"I decide my own worth."

The bindings shattered.

The room snapped back into place, the crushing weight vanishing as suddenly as it had come. The glow around the pedestal pulsed once—then settled into an almost expectant stillness.

Zhao Feng exhaled slowly, his body still tingling from the encounter.

Whatever had tested him… it had acknowledged him.

He stepped forward once more, reaching out toward the pedestal. This time, nothing stopped him.

His fingers brushed against the surface—

And the world went white.

Light engulfed Zhao Feng's vision, pure and blinding. His breath caught as the world around him vanished, replaced by an endless void.

No ground. No sky. Just an infinite expanse of white.

Then, a presence.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before—vast, ancient, and patient. It did not press down on him as an enemy would, nor did it welcome him. Instead, it simply observed.

Zhao Feng steadied his breath. He had faced many dangers, but something about this felt different. The golden ember within him stirred, as if responding to the unseen force.

Then, the presence spoke.

"You are not the first to stand before me."

The voice wasn't a sound. It bypassed his ears, reverberating directly within his mind. It carried no hostility, only a deep, unshakable certainty.

Zhao Feng narrowed his eyes. "And what are you?"

A pause. Then, the void rippled.

"I am the echo of an oath long forgotten."

Before Zhao Feng could respond, the whiteness fractured.

Shadows bled into the void, swirling into shapes. Faint figures emerged, their bodies indistinct but their presence undeniable. Warriors. Cultivators. Some stood with weapons drawn, others knelt in silent devotion.

And above them all—a single, towering silhouette.

Zhao Feng's heart pounded. He didn't just see them. He could feel them—their struggles, their battles, their sacrifices.

This was history, but it was more than just a memory.

It was a warning.

The towering figure raised a hand, and the warriors surged forward. Zhao Feng instinctively braced himself, but they did not attack him. Instead, they collapsed mid-charge, dissolving into golden embers.

The void trembled.

"A war was fought. A price was paid. But the chains remain."

The golden light flickered as the presence continued.

"And now, you carry the ember."

Zhao Feng stiffened. His gaze dropped to his own body, and for the first time, he truly saw it. The golden ember within him wasn't just energy. It was a piece of something far greater.

Something unfinished.

The presence stirred.

"Will you bear the weight of what was left behind?"

Zhao Feng clenched his fists. He had no desire to be a pawn in someone else's battle, but this… this was different. He had felt the remnants of their struggle. He had seen their fate.

And he had already been marked.

"…I don't believe in carrying someone else's burden." His voice was steady. "But I do believe in strength."

A silence stretched between him and the presence. Then, something shifted.

For the first time, he felt something akin to approval.

The golden light surged. The ember within him flared, its energy resonating with the pedestal. The swirling void trembled, the weight of an ancient battle pressing upon him.

Zhao Feng gritted his teeth. This was more than just power—it was a responsibility, a connection to something beyond himself.

And yet, he refused to be consumed by it.

With a sharp breath, he controlled it.

The golden energy condensed, no longer wild and unstable. It flowed into him smoothly, seamlessly, as if recognizing his resolve.

The void began to collapse.

The presence faded, its voice barely a whisper now.

"Then carve your own path, bearer of the ember."

Zhao Feng's vision blurred—

And suddenly, he was back.

---

The fortress chamber stretched before him once more. The glow from the pedestal had faded, its power now resting within him.

Zhao Feng exhaled. His body felt different. Lighter, yet more rooted. As if the world itself acknowledged his presence just a little more than before.

But he had no time to dwell on it.

A presence stirred behind him.

Zhao Feng turned sharply, Void Edge forming instinctively. But what he saw made him pause.

Standing at the chamber's entrance was a figure cloaked in black mist. Their face was hidden, but their very existence distorted the air.

And from within the shadows, a voice spoke.

"You should not have taken that."

Zhao Feng's grip tightened. Another enemy.

And this time, the battle was unavoidable.

Zhao Feng locked eyes with the figure cloaked in black mist.

The temperature in the chamber dropped as an oppressive force radiated from them, more suffocating than the Black Herald's presence. The mist shrouding them was not ordinary Qi—it twisted unnaturally, as though it were alive.

"You should not have taken that."

The voice was deep, resonant, carrying an eerie finality. Unlike the Black Herald's cryptic amusement, this entity spoke with undeniable certainty.

Zhao Feng didn't waste words. His battle instincts had already sharpened. The energy from the golden ember within him stirred, resonating faintly with the pedestal's lingering aura.

Whoever this was, they had come prepared.

The figure moved.

A blur of shadow—then an eruption of force.

Zhao Feng barely managed to react. He twisted aside as a wave of black Qi carved through the space where he had just stood, the sheer pressure splintering the stone floor.

Fast. Too fast.

Zhao Feng's mind raced. This wasn't like fighting the beasts outside or even the cloaked attacker from before. This was something else.

A true hunter.

The black mist figure didn't pause. Their hand lifted, fingers curling into a sharp claw-like gesture. The mist around them condensed, coiling like living tendrils.

Then—a silent flicker.

The tendrils surged forward, cutting through the air with lethal precision. Zhao Feng barely had time to summon a Void Edge, slashing upward to intercept.

Clang!

The impact sent a tremor through his arm. Not just mist. This Qi had weight.

Zhao Feng's feet skidded back, but he steadied himself. His body was still adjusting to the changes from the golden ember, but he wasn't defenseless.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice firm.

The figure didn't answer. Instead, they vanished.

Not teleportation—something more unnatural. One moment they were there, the next, their form faded into the shadows like ink dispersing in water.

Zhao Feng's senses flared. Above!

He moved just in time. A claw-like strike descended from the ceiling, the mist-shrouded hand missing his neck by inches. Zhao Feng countered with another Void Edge, but the attack passed through empty air.

His opponent had already shifted—impossibly fluid, as though they existed half within reality and half beyond it.

Zhao Feng's eyes narrowed. This wasn't a normal assassin.

It was something worse.

A shadow-born entity.

The Black Herald's words echoed in his mind. "You have been marked. The true hunt begins."

Zhao Feng's expression darkened. So this was the first of those hunters.

But he wasn't about to be prey.

The golden ember within him pulsed, as if sensing the threat. Zhao Feng focused, drawing on the energy—not to unleash it wildly, but to sharpen himself.

His surroundings became clearer. The mist, the shifting shadows—patterns emerged where there had been none before.

Then he saw it.

The mist figure's movements weren't entirely unpredictable. There was a sequence, a rhythm. However unnatural their shifting was, it followed a hidden logic.

And Zhao Feng could use that.

The figure attacked again, launching a sweeping arc of black Qi.

Zhao Feng didn't dodge this time.

Instead, he stepped forward.

His movement was precise, calculated. The golden energy within him flickered as he slipped past the incoming strike by a hair's breadth.

The mist figure hesitated for a fraction of a second—the first mistake.

Zhao Feng's counterattack was instant.

Void Edge flashed.

His blade struck, not at the figure's body, but at the flow of mist surrounding them.

Crack!

A sharp distortion split the air. The mist trembled as if wounded, scattering in an unnatural ripple. The figure reeled back, their shroud flickering.

Zhao Feng's eyes sharpened. So they weren't untouchable after all.

He pressed forward, Void Edges forming rapidly. His attacks weren't wild swings—each one targeted the weak points in the mist's flow.

Slash. Twist. Feint. Strike.

The black mist figure's movements became less fluid. Their shifting distortions no longer seemed effortless.

And then—

A decisive blow.

Zhao Feng's Void Edge pierced through the mist, sinking deep into the figure's shoulder.

A sharp hiss escaped them—not of pain, but of recognition.

Zhao Feng withdrew his blade, readying another strike, but the figure had already started to dissolve.

Not dying. Retreating.

Their form unraveled, the mist spiraling backward as they melted into the shadows.

But before vanishing completely, they spoke one last time.

"You are… unexpected."

Then, silence.

The chamber remained still, but Zhao Feng did not lower his guard. He had no doubt.

This was only the beginning.

---

Zhao Feng exhaled slowly, his heartbeat steadying. He examined his surroundings, confirming the figure was truly gone.

Then, he looked down at his hand. The golden ember within him still pulsed faintly, but something was different.

The clash had triggered a deeper resonance. He could feel it now—an instinctive awareness of the power resting inside him.

He didn't fully understand it yet, but one thing was clear.

The hunt had begun.

And he was no longer just a target.

He was a contender.