Dark Inheritance
As dusk settled over the plains, Wuye felt a chill in the air. He slowed the wolf down, the creature's paws padding softly against the grass. The temperature was dropping fast, and his altered appearance, scales glinting faintly under the dim light, reminded him of the problem he faced. He wasn't one to care about his looks, but the antlers and silver scales now covering parts of his skin were a different story. If anyone caught a glimpse, it would undoubtedly raise questions—ones he wasn't prepared to answer. He would need a way to conceal these new traits soon.
After some time, he reached a rockier region, dotted with hills and small mountains casting shadows over the rugged terrain. Navigating between the hills, he finally spotted a cave tucked away in the slopes. Sighing in relief, he dismounted the wolf and entered the cave, arranging a small fire from broken branches he'd gathered outside. The warmth was a welcome comfort, and as the fire crackled to life, he glanced down at the white egg resting carefully beside him. Holding it up, he marveled at its fragile beauty, wondering when it would hatch and what creature would emerge. But soon he set it aside, his curiosity turning to the jade slip he carried.
Pouring a thread of qi into the slip, he felt a surge of information invade his mind. It was a cultivation technique, one that promised to purify other techniques. Intrigued, he focused on the knowledge, parsing through its instructions. The technique appeared to either remove impurities in techniques or reduce the backlash from them, but its exact workings eluded him. This could be a powerful asset, he thought. I'll need to experiment with it later.
Settling into a meditative position, Wuye decided to resume his cultivation practice. With his acupoints opened, his next step was reinforcing his minor meridians, a crucial stage before he could tackle the main meridians and approach the next breakthrough. His energy circulated, and the world around him faded into silence as he immersed himself in the process, drawing closer to the next level.
The peace was broken at dawn by a faint noise above the cave, like a rush of wings cutting through the early morning air. Wuye opened his eyes, his senses sharpened, and gazed upward. A formation of flying beasts passed by, their silhouettes dark against the rising sun. Atop each beast rode a figure dressed in robes of varying colors. He narrowed his eyes, realizing that there were more than one group—likely two sects moving in tandem. His mind raced. If they spot me looking like this, he thought, glancing down at his scales and antlers, they might mistake me for some strange beast.
Quickly, he climbed onto his wolf, keeping a safe distance as he tracked them. The groups flew with purpose, circling above a cliff that overlooked a blood-red swirl of energy suspended in mid-air. From his hidden vantage point, Wuye's gaze sharpened in curiosity. The aura from the swirling energy felt ominous, carrying a dangerous and ancient weight. Instinctively, he tapped into the Akashic Records for information, but the response was a splitting headache. The only fragment he received was a whisper of knowledge, a single phrase: partial inheritance of a powerful Daoist.
"Partial inheritance?" Wuye muttered under his breath. If it were truly powerful, why hadn't any sect leaders or elders come? Then it struck him—it was likely a minuscule portion of the Daoist's original inheritance, something not worth the effort of higher-ranking cultivators, but still precious enough to send disciples.
Suddenly, a commanding voice cut through the air from the leading figure atop one of the flying beasts, addressing a man from the other sect. "Five of my disciples will enter first. Then five of yours," he declared, his tone firm but laced with underlying tension.
The addressed figure had a pale, stern expression, his gaze cold as he nodded begrudgingly. Wuye took note of the uneasy truce between the two groups, one robed in red and silver, the other cloaked in shades of black. There was clearly no love lost between these two sects, and Wuye observed their restraint, already piecing together a plan.
The blood-red vortex churned in the sky, its energy shifting and swirling in erratic pulses. Wuye felt an eagerness stirring in his chest, even though the aura was heavy with danger. A chance like this doesn't come often, he thought, his mind racing with possibilities. If he could slip in unnoticed, he might be able to seize the inheritance before either sect realized he was there.
As he observed, the disciples from each sect prepared to enter. They were focused entirely on one another, glaring and sizing each other up. The leading disciple from the group in red and silver robes gestured toward the vortex. "Prepare yourselves," he ordered, his voice calm but steely.
The black-robed disciples remained silent, their gazes trained on their rivals, bodies taut with tension. The pale-skinned leader seemed reluctant but stepped aside to allow the first five disciples from the red-robed sect to approach the vortex. They moved forward, chanting a protection mantra in unison before stepping into the swirling energy, disappearing into its depths.
Wuye saw his chance. The disciples and leaders were entirely absorbed in the ritual and their rivalry, offering him the perfect window to slip in unnoticed. Leaning close to his wolf, he whispered a quick command, signaling it to stay hidden. Then, with a last, silent prayer that his luck would hold, he moved carefully from his cover, slipping quietly along the cliffside as he edged closer to the vortex.
The second group of disciples was lining up, preparing to enter. Wuye crouched low, hidden just behind a rocky outcrop, close enough to feel the chaotic energy rolling off the vortex. He couldn't help but wonder at the origins of such a phenomenon. The Akashic Records had labeled it a partial inheritance, but what secrets did it hold? What power could it grant to those who dared claim it?
The disciples chanted again, voices blending in a reverent hum that resonated with the vortex's strange energy. Just as the final syllable left their lips, the last disciple of the red-robed sect stepped into the vortex, his figure dissolving into the blood-red mist.
This is it, Wuye thought, his muscles coiled as he prepared to dart forward. The black-robed disciples moved next, their leader watching closely, his expression as cold and unreadable as before. But no sooner had the last of the red-robed disciples entered than a loud, shrill cry echoed from the forest below, drawing everyone's attention momentarily.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Wuye darted toward the vortex, his movements swift and silent. He kept his qi masked, a skill he had perfected through countless life-or-death situations. As he approached the swirling energy, he felt a magnetic pull, the vortex's power dragging at him with relentless force.
The disciples on the cliff barely noticed him, their attention already drawn to the disturbance below. Wuye took a final, steadying breath, then plunged into the red mist, feeling the vortex's chaotic energy swallow him whole.
Inside, he was plunged into darkness, his senses scrambled as the vortex spun him in all directions. His body felt like it was being stretched and pulled, as if the energy itself was testing his resolve. He fought against the disorientation, his mind focused solely on the prize within. Whatever lies beyond this point, he vowed, I will claim it.
After what felt like an eternity, the chaos abated, and he found himself standing in an open chamber, the air thick with ancient power. Runes inscribed along the walls glowed faintly, casting the room in an eerie red light. At the center of the room lay a single, unassuming pedestal, atop which rested a small jade stone, glowing with a faint inner light.
Wuye's heart pounded in his chest as he approached it, his steps slow and cautious. The moment he reached out to touch the stone, a voice echoed through the chamber, whispering words of power and wisdom that sent a thrill down his spine.
A faint smile curved his lips.