Chapter 22: Whispers Beneath the Moon.

The sun had long risen when the silence of the old glade was broken.

Birds took flight in a panic, and the grass swayed in unseen rhythm. A low hum spread across the earth like a tremor of breath held too long. Then, with a sudden crack—like thunder swallowed by stone—a sliver of silver light burst from the ground and vanished.

It lasted only a second, but for those attuned to the flow of qi, the pulse was undeniable.

At the town gates, an elder from the Silver Flame Pavilion turned sharply.

"Again," he murmured. "The third time in as many days."

In the Li Compound

Li Xioran stood on the outer veranda, her brows furrowed, gaze turned toward the forested ridge where the pulse had originated. Even at this distance, she could feel it—the faint echo of a technique unlike anything the Li Clan had ever taught.

She exhaled slowly and tightened her grip on the jade pendant hidden beneath her robe. It had once belonged to her brother. Since discovering his notes in the vault, it had grown faintly warm at times—always when the pulses struck.

Something was stirring.

And someone was calling.

At the Iron Wind Sect

Sect Master Han Yue sat in his study, staring at a freshly delivered report. He tapped the parchment with one finger, expression unreadable.

"Anomalous pulse… matched pattern of Nine Heavens Moon Sect remnant formation… confirmed within two miles of the Li Clan town."

He stood, eyes narrowing.

"If the inheritance is waking, the Li are sitting on a fault line. And they either don't know—or they're hiding it very well."

He turned to his attendant. "Dispatch Elder Feng. Quietly. No banners. No sect robes. I want him embedded in the town within three days."

In the Forest

Li Xuan knelt by a stream, brow coated in sweat. The light pulse had shaken him—not just physically, but spiritually.

He hadn't triggered it.

He wasn't even close to the formation site.

Which meant only one thing: someone else had touched a remnant of the Nine Heavens Moon Sect.

"Someone in the town…" he muttered.

At his side, the Starling Phoenix chirped warily, its crest feathers ruffling with agitation. It, too, had felt the tremor.

"I can't go back yet," he whispered, gazing toward the distant mountains. "But I can't stay hidden much longer either."

He drew a formation circle on the ground—an old concealment technique from the sect's surviving scrolls—and vanished into its shimmer.

He would watch. From a distance.

And if the sects got too close… they would learn that the Nine Heavens Moon Sect may have died, but its heir had not.

Back at the Li Clan – Inner Courtyard

Li Wuqing sat in council with his inner circle again. The pulses had not gone unnoticed, and now emissaries were requesting permission to investigate the surrounding forest "for sect business."

"This will not hold much longer," said Elder Li Shen grimly. "If we deny them, they'll suspect more. If we allow them, they may find the old tombs—or worse, the vault ruins."

Wuqing's fingers drummed on the table. "Then we feed them bait. Stage a false disturbance near the Qian border. Let them dig in the wrong direction."

"And the girl?" asked another elder. "She's growing stronger."

"She is," Wuqing admitted. "And that may work to our advantage—if she finds the legacy, we can still keep it within the clan."

"But if she goes rogue—?"

"Then she dies," Wuqing said coldly. "Family is loyalty. Without that, blood is meaningless."

In the Hidden Cottage

That night, Li Xioran returned once more.

Her father greeted her with quiet resolve, but her mother—Lady Mei—handed her a scroll she had unearthed from a chest sealed for over a decade.

"This belonged to your grandfather," she said softly. "Before even your father knew what the Li Clan had once been a part of. Before the betrayal."

Xioran unfurled it carefully. It wasn't a technique, but a map. Hand-drawn, old. Marked with moon phases… and the location of several hidden altars deep in the forest.

"This… This connects to the inheritance," she breathed.

Li Zheng nodded. "Your brother may already be moving toward one. If you reach the next site before the sects do, you may be able to learn more—perhaps even contact him."

"And if the sects get there first?" she asked.

"Then you disappear," said Lady Mei. "And wait for the storm to pass. But if you do make contact… tell him we never gave up hope."

Xioran folded the map and stood. The wind outside had shifted. The air carried a faint, ancient scent—dust and moonlight and old power.

She would leave that very night.

Because the moon that remembers had begun to rise.

Since Li Xuan has already inherited the main legacy of the Nine Heavens Moon Sect, the light pulse cannot be from the original inheritance.

Yes, the light pulse is not from the main inheritance site—but from one of the satellite inheritance altars or sub-sealed formations created by the Nine Heavens Moon Sect's founder long ago.

The Nine Heavens Moon Sect had multiple backup sites, scattered and hidden across the continent. Each one served a different purpose:

Some were trial grounds for outer disciples.

Others contained treasures attuned to specific elements or techniques.

A rare few held message arrays or astral beacons, designed to awaken only when a true successor had reclaimed the sect's core.

The recent pulse Li Xuan felt was one such astral beacon awakening—triggered automatically by his successful inheritance and cultivation progress. It was a signal flare of sorts, designed to activate once the heir reached a certain threshold of qi.

But that's not the dangerous part.

What Li Xuan didn't know is that these beacons were not only meant to signal allies—but also to warn enemies.

Thousands of years ago, the Nine Heavens Moon Sect was hunted down by powerful rival factions. Some of those ancient enemies had laid tracking formations dormant across the land, designed to alert them if the Nine Heavens legacy ever stirred again.

So the beacon that pulsed in the forest?

It didn't just signal Li Xioran and the Iron Wind Sect...

It may have awoken the descendants of the sect's enemies, who will now begin moving—quietly, violently, and with ancient grudges buried deep.

Li Xuan stood motionless, eyes fixed on the fading point of light in the distance. It had struck like a celestial spear—brilliant, brief, and ancient in aura. He hadn't felt fear, exactly. But something deep in his blood had stirred… as if some ancient oath had just been fulfilled.

"What was that…?" he murmured, his voice rough with strain.

Li Xuan sat down cross-legged on the rocky ledge, calming his breath as he reached inward.

There it was—the familiar warmth of the inheritance mark in his sea of consciousness. But beside it… something new. A foreign glyph had appeared, etched in radiant silver fire on the edge of his spiritual sense.

It pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat.

One. Two. Three.

"Second Pulse Beacon activated. Outer Temple sequence initializing…" a voice whispered in his mind—neither male nor female, but vast and star-like.

His eyes snapped open. "The Nine Heavens Moon Sect had more than one inheritance site. That must've been… a hidden satellite altar."

The ground below trembled faintly, then settled.

Li Xuan immediately understood. This was no ordinary event. The pulse hadn't just reached him. It had echoed across the forest—across the continent, maybe farther.

Which meant others would feel it too.

Back in the Li Clan Compound

The ancestral hall had descended into chaos. Elders argued openly now, voices raised, fingers pointed.

Patriarch Li Wuqing's face remained still as stone, but his fingers had clenched around the blackwood armrest of his seat.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice low and deadly.

The younger elder, Elder Zhao, swallowed nervously. "It was… a light pulse. Just a few moments ago. Originating from the northern woods. Similar to… what old records called 'legacy flares' during the ancient sect wars."

Li Xioran's breath hitched. Her eyes flickered to the direction of the light she'd seen.

Could it be… him?

Her mind raced.

Deep in the Forest

Li Xuan rose to his feet.

The message in his mind had already begun to fade, but the location it pointed to was clear: northwest, past the Veiled River, beyond a broken stone ridge shaped like a dragon's jaw.

"I need to go," he said.

The Starling Phoenix chirped in response, already prepared.

But just as he leapt from the ledge, he felt it—a cold gaze. Somewhere far off, a spiritual sense brushed against his own. Brief, like a shadow flickering past a window.

Not from the forest.

From the sky.

A cultivator? A scout? Or something worse?

Li Xuan clenched his fists. "So they've noticed already."

No longer just a seeker of power or survival, he now bore the weight of the sect's revival—and with it, the eyes of enemies old and new.

And far to the west, across the Mistshroud Peaks, a crimson-robed figure stirred from meditation. His jade talisman glowed faintly, ancient runes flickering to life.

"So… the Moon rises again," the figure said. His voice was a rasping echo.

"Let the hunt begin."

Li Xuan moved swiftly through the dense undergrowth, his robes fluttering behind him like the wings of a passing shadow. The terrain grew harsher with every step—twisting roots, jagged stones, and thick mists that clung to the air like old curses. But the pulse in his soul guided him forward, unwavering.

The Starling Phoenix glided above, her cry sharp and watchful. Even she sensed it—the world had shifted.

Hours passed.

He crossed the Veiled River at twilight, its waters tinted crimson in the fading light. Where the stream once babbled lazily, it now roared as if unsettled by the ancient call.

Along the riverbank, shattered remnants of a stone statue jutted from the ground—a hand grasping toward the heavens, broken at the wrist. Moss clung to its surface, but the sigil on its palm was unmistakable: a crescent moon wrapped in nine flames.

He paused.

"The Outer Temple… they once had a presence here," he whispered.

As he reached out to touch the sigil, a subtle warmth passed through his fingers. The glyph in his spiritual sea pulsed once—like it acknowledged the remnant.

Suddenly, the underbrush behind him rustled.

Li Xuan turned instantly, spiritual sense expanding.

A figure lunged from the shadows—emaciated, half-feral, its robes torn and eyes gleaming with madness.

"A sect heir… You smell like moonlight!" the man hissed.

Li Xuan's eyes narrowed. "A rogue cultivator?"

The madman attacked with a blur of speed, but Li Xuan met him calmly. He spun, palm glowing with inner qi, and struck the attacker squarely in the chest.

Boom!

The rogue was flung into a boulder, crumpling on impact.

Li Xuan walked forward, expression unreadable. "You felt the beacon too, didn't you?"

The man coughed blood, grinning through broken teeth. "You think you're the only one it calls, boy? Others… stronger… darker… are coming."

With a final twitch, the rogue went still.

Li Xuan stood over him for a long moment, then turned away.

Night fell fast, cloaking the forest in shadow. The dragon's jaw ridge loomed ahead—serrated and black against the moonlit sky.

He would reach it by dawn.

But deep within the broken ridge, a temple long-buried began to stir. Mechanisms of silver light turned for the first time in a thousand years. Inscriptions flared, and a door of moonstone began to open.

The stars faded as dawn crept over the horizon. Shafts of pale light pierced the treetops, filtering through the mist that clung to the ridge. Li Xuan stood at the base of the jagged formation known as the Dragon's Jaw, where two stone cliffs rose like fangs, ancient and weathered.

Nestled between them was a cleft—narrow, unremarkable to mortal eyes.

But not to his.

The glyph in his spiritual sea pulsed again, and the rocks shimmered faintly in his perception. A ripple of energy parted the illusion. A stairway of silver-gray stone unfurled downward, leading into the mountain's heart.

He stepped inside.

The air grew cold instantly, touched by the scent of moonflower and old incense. As he descended, his steps echoed—yet no sound reached the surface.

It was sealed from the world.

And then he saw it.

At the base of the stairs stood a massive door of moonstone, veined with streaks of crimson jade. Nine flame-like patterns were carved into its surface, each radiating a cold brilliance. In the center, a crescent moon emblem pulsed with slow, steady light—resonating with the glyph inside his spiritual sense.

As he approached, the glyph within him began to glow brighter, linking with the seal on the door.

A voice—vast, ancient, and full of memory—spoke again within him:

"Outer Temple recognized. Heir confirmed. Initiating ceremonial awakening."

The stone beneath his feet trembled. The moon-flame seal flared, and the door began to part—stone grinding against stone in a soundless, majestic movement.

Beyond the threshold was a great hall lost to time.

Pillars of celestial iron and moon-wood held aloft a ceiling carved with constellations no longer seen in the modern sky. Floating orbs of light drifted lazily above, casting a pale silver radiance across the chamber.

At the center stood a platform, and atop it—an altar of jade and blacksteel. Upon it rested three objects: a scroll sealed in crimson wax, a crystalline orb the size of a fist, and a long box bound in golden talismans.

Li Xuan approached slowly.

As he set foot on the platform, the air thickened with presence. The same voice echoed in his soul once more:

"Heir of the Moon. The Outer Temple yields its armory and records to you. But beware… this place was not abandoned. It was sealed."

A shadow stirred in the far corner of the hall—subtle, whispering, almost indistinct.

Li Xuan turned, eyes sharp.

The temple was awakening.

But so was something else.

Li Xuan stepped onto the altar platform, his breath slow, every sense attuned.

The first object—the scroll sealed in crimson wax—seemed to thrum faintly with residual heat. He reached for it, fingers brushing the surface. At his touch, the wax cracked soundlessly, releasing a breath of incense-laced air.

The scroll unfurled on its own.

Lines of silver script etched themselves midair, glowing softly before sinking into the parchment. His eyes widened.

"Heavenly Moonfire Scripture—Volume II," he whispered.

He had studied the first volume—recovered from the master's cave weeks ago. This one... it expanded upon it in ways he hadn't imagined. This wasn't just a cultivation method. It was a path of evolution for the Golden Core realm and beyond, fusing moonlight essence with a flame-type constitution—his constitution.

As he skimmed the beginning, he saw notes left behind by ancient elders, annotations from long-dead disciples, and... a warning:

> Only one who has kindled both moon essence and true spirit flame may complete this path. Otherwise, backlash is inevitable.

He exhaled slowly. Then I have much to prepare.

He placed the scroll reverently to the side.

Next, he turned to the crystalline orb.

It hovered slightly above the surface of the altar, humming with pure spiritual energy. Inside swirled a scene—clouds parting over a moonlit peak, disciples meditating beneath falling starlight, formations spinning in rhythmic harmony.

A memory crystal.

He reached out, letting it touch his forehead.

A jolt of energy surged through him. Visions flashed behind his eyes—formation arrays, combat sequences, and most valuable of all… a map. A star-map of all the known Outer Temples, scattered across the continent and veiled by ancient seals.

The Nine Heavens Moon Sect had been far larger than he'd thought.

When he opened his eyes again, the crystal dimmed and crumbled into dust, its contents absorbed.

Then came the final item.

The long box. Bound in three golden talismans, each humming with power, its surface etched in runes from an era before recorded history.

He held his breath, pressing his palm against the top talisman.

Flash!

A searing pulse pushed against his spirit, testing him. His Golden Core flared in response—steady, defiant, undeniable. The talisman flared… then dissolved into golden mist.

The second did the same.

The third... resisted. A murmur echoed faintly from the runes, like a voice asking a question he didn't understand.

Then, the moon-glyph within his soul pulsed—a silent answer.

The final seal gave way.

With reverence, he opened the box.

Inside lay a sword. Or rather, a sword hilt, its blade missing—but the core gleamed like starlight captured in crystal, and a long crimson tassel wrapped around the base shimmered faintly with fire essence.

At his touch, a name whispered into his mind:

> "Lunara's Fang — Fragmented Spirit Armament."

The weapon wasn't whole—but it was alive. A sleeping relic of the sect, resonating faintly with his core.

Even incomplete, it held the power of a high-grade spiritual weapon. And more than that—it was waiting to grow, just like him.

Suddenly, the entire altar room shifted.

The glowing pillars dimmed. The air thickened. Somewhere deeper within the temple, an ancient gate creaked open.

"You have awakened the Vault of the Moon Fang. Proceed when ready… Heir."

Li Xuan clenched the hilt tightly, eyes shining with resolve.

He had barely scratched the surface of the legacy. And already, the world had begun to stir.

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