Chapter 23: Echoes Across the Sky.

Far from the Veiled River, beyond the Mistshroud Peaks, the air trembled.

A ripple—soft as moonlight, sharp as a blade—swept across the land. Not many could feel it. Fewer still could understand it. But those who did… stirred.

Somewhere in the Scarlet Vulture Marsh

A woman dressed in bone-white robes opened her eyes mid-meditation. Around her, fetid mist coiled and hissed.

"The Moon Sect?" she murmured, lips curling into a smile. "So the brat wasn't lying."

She stood slowly, stretching her arms as skeletal birds perched on gnarled trees above took flight.

"Time to hunt."

Floating Obsidian Fortress of the Profound Soul Sect

Sectmaster Xie Daoyin sat upon his silent throne, eyes closed.

Then, without warning, he gasped.

A celestial lotus—silver and crimson—bloomed across the scrying mirror at his side.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "So the inheritance lives after all…"

He waved a finger through the air. "Send envoys. Quietly. And prepare the Soul-Render Bell."

Far beyond the altar chamber—across shadowed mountains, cursed valleys, and ancient plains—the light of the beacon continued to fade.

But the ripples it left behind had already awakened sleeping forces.

Somewhere in the Mistshroud Peaks

The crimson-robed figure stood beneath a hanging cliff, wind tossing his cloak like wings of blood. His eyes, pale as ice, reflected the remnants of silver flame in the sky.

"So… the Vault responded," he murmured, his voice a rasp that scraped against the silence.

Behind him, a young cultivator fell to one knee.

"Elder," the disciple said, eyes lowered. "The skyward pulse was seen even in the Ironroot Wastes. We believe it marks the activation of an Outer Temple."

"And the Moon Sect's inheritor?"

"Unknown. But he must be alive. No outsider could have activated the Second Sequence."

The crimson-robed elder turned his gaze north.

"Send word to the Soulhollow Pavilion. Tell them the Moonlight Heir has risen. And inform the Blackflame Hall—whether they move or not, I intend to."

"Yes, Elder Bai."

The moment the disciple vanished, Elder Bai crushed a jade charm in his hand. Across the continent, three others shattered in unison.

In the Southern Sea

A vast ship cut through mist and rain. Upon its prow stood a woman clad in robes of night-blue silk, embroidered with constellations.

Her eyes narrowed.

"The Moon Sect… after all this time," she whispered.

Her companion, an armored warrior with golden tattoos, frowned. "The prophecy again?"

She nodded. "The Lotus of Moon and Flame has bloomed. The stars have confirmed it."

Her voice hardened.

"We sail for the mainland. Ready the Sect Envoys."

Back in the Town near the Forest

Cultivators from the four clans were already moving. Some sought the light. Others tried to suppress the whispers spreading like wildfire.

And beneath the Li Clan's compound, in a hidden room veiled by shadow, a masked figure knelt before an altar of bones.

"My Lord," the figure said, "he has returned."

From the shadows came a voice—slow, cold, ancient.

"Then the time has come to bury the Moonlight for good."

A Nameless Cave in the Ruined Eastern Wastes

Eyes glowed in the dark—two, then four, then many. Shadowy silhouettes slithered from tunnels, drawn by instinct.

In the center, a beast twice the size of an ox raised its head. Its horns gleamed faintly, silver fire dancing across its back.

It sniffed the air… and roared.

The demonic beast hordes had heard the call.

Li Clan Territory, East Ridge Watchtower

Li Xioran stood alone at the top of the wooden watchtower, wind tugging at her robes. She stared north, toward the woods.

A whisper brushed her ear—the same direction as the light.

Something had awakened out there. She could feel it.

She pressed a hand to her chest. "Brother…"

Back at the Outer Temple

Li Xuan stood at the threshold of the newly opened gate, the incomplete sword at his side glowing softly.

He didn't yet know who had felt the pulse, or how far its echo had carried.

But the world was shifting.

The stone gate closed behind him with a low thrum, sealing out the fading light of the altar chamber. Before Li Xuan lay a spiral stairwell descending into a deep, subterranean chamber, lit by faint orbs of silver flame floating like will-o'-the-wisps.

He moved quietly, each step echoing with a quiet reverence, Lunara's Fang strapped across his back and pulsing faintly—as if the weapon remembered this place.

As he reached the bottom, the stairwell opened into a vast underground hall.

Unlike the ancient, dust-caked architecture above, the Vault was pristine.

A crescent-shaped dais stood at the center, surrounded by nine monoliths of moonstone—each carved with a different script, language, or sigil. Hovering above the dais was a sphere of ever-shifting crystal. No larger than a melon, yet containing what felt like an entire star.

A voice echoed through the Vault—not spoken, but sensed.

"You who bear the Heir's mark… welcome."

Li Xuan stepped forward, instinctively performing a respectful bow.

The floating sphere responded. Silvery filaments unspooled from its surface, forming geometric patterns midair. Visions shimmered within the shapes—memories frozen in time.

Battles beneath moonlit skies. Elders shaping star-metal. Cultivators meditating beneath an eclipsed sun.

"This is the Moon Fang Core—a memory and inheritance reservoir. Only those bearing the Moonlight Sigil may access its depths."

A beam of light extended toward him.

"Will you receive the Vault's gift?"

Li Xuan nodded. "I am ready."

The beam struck his forehead.

A sudden flood of knowledge surged through his mind—not raw information, but refined experience. He staggered, sweat beading on his brow.

He saw the Moon-Sworn Nine Forms, a sword art lost even in the sect's final days—each movement designed to harmonize with shifting phases of the moon and elemental flame.

He felt the Lunar Meridian Reforging Method, a body-tempering technique meant only for those who had reached Golden Core and sought to transcend mortal limits.

And he heard whispers of a third path… fragmented… incomplete.

"When the three Vaults reunite, the Gate of Ascension shall open."

Li Xuan's eyes widened. There are more Vaults?

Before he could pursue the thought, the Vault dimmed slightly, and a hidden panel in the floor slid open.

Inside lay a satchel containing three final items:

A Moonsteel Medallion, shaped like a crescent disc. It shimmered with teleportation runes—clearly a sect token that once allowed access to distant branches or sanctuaries.

A sealed jade slip, marked with an elder's sigil. When touched, it whispered: "To be read only during mortal crisis."

A vial of silvery flame essence, labeled with a single character: "Core."

Li Xuan took a deep breath.

Each of these items was a key to the next stage of his journey. But more than that—they confirmed something crucial:

The Nine Heavens Moon Sect hadn't merely died.

It had scattered.

It had prepared.

And now, it was calling him to gather the fragments—and rise.