Chapter 14: The Third Eye Opens

The space surrounding Hao Thien was eerily silent.

The light here was soft like early morning mist, yet cold—like the gaze of an ancient god. The stone walls were engraved with strange symbols, radiating a quiet pressure that seemed to tighten with each heartbeat.

Standing before him was Te Hoanh Thien, the Headmaster of the academy—

the same man who had just subdued an entire battlefield with his mere presence.

Now, he turned to face Hao Thien. His eyes were no longer those of a teacher or leader, but of a guardian staring into the unknown.

"Tell me the truth… where did you really come from?"

The question wasn't loud.

But in this sealed space, it echoed like a blade slicing through every layer of silence.

Hao Thien didn't flinch.

He stood still for a moment. He didn't try to hide. He didn't look away.

Then he answered—

short, and clear:

"I… don't know exactly.

I only remember that I came from a star system called the Sun.

The third planet from that star… Earth — that's where I was born."

The words fell like a quiet ripple, yet seemed to pause the very air around them.

Te Hoanh Thien narrowed his eyes.

For a fleeting second, a trace of shock flickered in his gaze—then vanished beneath a calm, steady weight of understanding.

Then he spoke:

"So… you are not from this universe."

Te Hoanh Thien remained silent for a long moment.

The air in the secret chamber seemed to freeze along with his thoughts.

Then, slowly, he spoke—his voice low and steady, as if weighing every word with the gravity it carried:

"You carry within you a power… that this entire universe desires."

Each word dropped like stone, heavy and unavoidable.

"Not just one faction.

Not just a handful of enemies.

But everything — everything that embodies survival, ambition, and fear in this world… will eventually turn its eyes toward you."

His gaze held no blame, no fear — only the quiet burden of responsibility and sorrow.

"If you were just a student, I could protect you.

But you are no longer just a student, Hao Thien."

He exhaled slowly.

The next words felt like they were drawn from the depths of his heart:

"As of this moment… you are officially withdrawn from the academy.

Not because you are weak — but because you are far too exceptional.

Your very existence will inevitably make this academy the epicenter of countless hunts."

A breeze passed through the chamber.

Te Hoanh Thien turned away.

"I know this may wound you.

But as the head of this academy… I have no other choice."

His voice dropped, almost to a whisper:

"I only hope… you will understand."

After a moment, he smiled softly.

It wasn't a smirk.

It wasn't bitter.

Just… a quiet smile, carrying a trace of gratitude — and acceptance.

"I understand, Headmaster."

His voice was calm and gentle, free of blame or resentment.

It was simply… the voice of someone who had come to terms with the truth.

"The academy has sheltered and nurtured me all this time.

Though brief… thank you."

He bowed deeply.

For the first time — and perhaps the last — he bowed as a student, before the teacher he respected most.

Then, Hao Thien turned and began to walk away.

His figure slowly disappeared into the pale mist, each step measured and steady — as if leaving behind not just a place, but an entire chapter of his life.

But just then—

"Wait, Hao Thien."

Te Hoanh Thien's voice rang out behind him — steady, yet firm.

Hao Thien froze.

He didn't turn around, but his hand clenched slightly at his side.

And in the soft rustling of wind passing through the ancient stones…

Silence fell once again.

Te Hoanh Thien stepped forward.

His footsteps echoed slowly through the silent chamber, like faint reverberations of time long passed.

He stopped just behind Hao Thien, saying nothing at first.

Then, quietly, he reached into his sleeve.

After a moment, he pulled out an item wrapped carefully in ash-gray silk, and extended it toward the boy.

"Take this."

His voice no longer carried the commanding tone of a Headmaster, but rather… the weight of a teacher entrusting something precious.

Hao Thien turned around, receiving it with both hands.

As he unfolded the silk, a pendant was revealed — a round disk of black metal with a faint blue sheen, etched with intricate spiral patterns. At its center sat a cloudy crystal, veiled like mist trapped in stone.

Te Hoanh Thien's gaze grew distant as he looked at the object.

"This is the Celestial Core Token."

"An ancient artifact… I had planned to study it further myself.

But now, it belongs to you."

He looked up, meeting Hao Thien's eyes directly.

"The Celestial Core Token has two main functions.

First, it can conceal your true cultivation and soul force — even from those of far higher realms.

Second, it holds an expansive internal storage… vast enough to contain an entire fortress."

A pause passed between them, quiet and heavy.

"I don't know what lies ahead for you.

But at the very least, this… may help you survive for a time."

Hao Thien stared at the token in his palm.

Its weight was more than physical — it carried expectation, trust, and the unspoken care of a teacher for his departing student.

"I can't go with you," Te Hoanh Thien said quietly.

"But this… will go with you — in my place."

The rain poured down.

Each drop fell like a needle from the sky, sharp and unrelenting.

A sudden summer downpour — no warning, no mercy.

Hao Thien kept walking.

No clear direction. No destination.

Just… walking.

His hair clung to his face, his soaked cloak weighed heavily on his shoulders, and his waterlogged boots squelched with every step.

But he didn't stop. He didn't look around.

There was only the sound of rain — and the quiet rhythm of a heart still beating beneath it.

Until—

"Where are you going?"

A familiar voice cut through the rain, soft but steady.

Hao Thien paused, just for a moment.

Then he lifted his head.

Hoang Da Nguyet stood there.

Beneath a tree that no longer offered shelter, her long hair and white dress were drenched through — yet her gaze was calm, unwavering, as if she could see through the veil of rain and straight into him.

Hao Thien looked at her.

For a brief second.

Then answered quietly:

"I'm going to find my home."

No explanation. No emotion.

And then, he walked on.

He passed by her — not fast, not slow, never turning back.

Just a lone figure moving through the rain, as if walking out of an old memory.

Da Nguyet didn't stop him.

She stood there in silence, watching…

until his silhouette faded into the curtain of silver rain.

The rain hadn't stopped.

Outside, the sky was blanketed with thick, ash-gray clouds. Sheets of rain poured endlessly, lashing against stone cliffs and forest canopies like the heavy breaths of the earth itself.

Inside a small cave tucked into the side of a mountain, Hao Thien sat in silence. The ground was damp. Cold wind slipped in through the cracks in the rock, but he didn't seem to notice.

A small fire flickered faintly among a pile of dry branches, its dim orange glow dancing across his face.

There was no sadness.

No disappointment.

No resentment.

Only a gaze that was… empty.

As if everything that had happened left behind no trace.

Not because he didn't feel — but because he had felt too much.

So much, in fact, that all that remained was a calm, hollow stillness.

He sat motionless, hands resting loosely on his knees, eyes fixed somewhere in the dark corner of the cave — though it was clear he wasn't truly looking at anything.

The firelight shimmered faintly on the Spirit Seal of the Ancient Realm hanging from his neck, the gem at its center pulsing dimly — like the quiet breath of a sleeping soul.

He didn't know what he was thinking.

Or perhaps… he was simply trying not to think at all.

The fire in the cave was slowly dying, leaving behind only faint, flickering embers. The last traces of warmth dissolved into the cold of the night.

Hao Thien slumped down, his body leaning gently against the damp stone wall.

His breathing slowed, then became steady — he had fallen asleep.

…

In his dream.

There was no sky. No ground.

Only a crimson moon, massive and looming so close it filled the entire sky.

Its glow was neither bright nor dark — instead, it cast a strange, eerie light, one that seemed to squeeze the breath from his lungs.

Suspended below that moon, floating in the emptiness, was a crystal of deep red, about the height of a person.

It emitted no light, yet a strange, suffocating pressure radiated from it.

Just by looking at it, Hao Thien felt his heartbeat slow unnaturally.

Inside the crystal… was something.

Its shape was unclear — not quite human, not quite beast.

All he could tell was that it had been sealed away, forced into eternal slumber in the middle of endless void.

Hao Thien stepped closer. He didn't know why — only that something was pulling him forward.

When his hand touched the surface of the crystal—

"Slash!"

A razor-thin cut tore through his palm. Blood welled up instantly — the crystal was incredibly sharp, as if designed to pierce through everything.

A single drop of blood landed on the surface…

And sank in.

At that very moment—

"Crack…"

A faint sound echoed through the void.

A thin fracture appeared on the surface of the crystal, like the first crack in ancient ice after millennia of silence.

The line spread slowly… and could no longer be stopped.

Inside, the sealed entity — moved.

Just the slightest twitch.

But enough to make the entire dreamscape tremble.

Wind swirled around Hao Thien.

Not real wind — but a chilling force that whispered across his ears like ghostly breath.

And then, a voice — soft, yet echoing from all directions:

"It has been so long… and at last, you have come."

At that moment — the entire crystal shuddered.

The crystal trembled more violently.

From within, a crimson light began to seep through the cracks — like the flames of the underworld silently awakening after tens of thousands of years in slumber.

And then—

"BOOM!!"

The crystal shattered into thousands of pieces, bursting into swirling red dust that spiraled up into the void, revealing the creature that had been sealed inside.

It emerged — slowly, yet with overwhelming majesty.

A massive beast covered in jet-black fur, every strand gleaming faintly with a metallic sheen beneath the blood-red moonlight.

Its eyes blazed with a deep scarlet glow — not wild, but bottomless, as if they contained an entire galaxy long dead.

On its forehead —

a third eye.

But unlike the two below, this one opened vertically, without a pupil, only a dark crimson vortex that pulsed with a strange light — a gaze that seemed to strip away the soul.

From its back, a pair of immense wings slowly unfurled.

The wings were layered with semi-transparent scales glowing faintly, like stardust flowing beneath a silver mist. Each subtle motion distorted the air, bending the surrounding space.

Behind it, a long tail swayed — graceful yet charged with terrifying power, rippling like a serpent in the moonlight.

Its overall form —

resembled a dragon.

But not just any dragon. Not a creature of sky or earth.

It was something that once ruled the skies of an entire era,

a being from a forgotten age.

Hao Thien stood motionless, gazing at the creature before him, neither stepping forward nor retreating.

A long moment of silence passed between the two beings —

a human…

and a force that might once have shattered galaxies with a single roar.