It rained again the next morning.
But this time, the water felt thick.
The wind moved strangely — too slow, too careful. Like it didn't want to disturb something sleeping beneath the mountain.
Jiang Xuan stood outside the ghost dormitory, eyes lifted to the gray sky. The storm had passed, but the air didn't clear.
Instead, it pressed against his skin.
Not cold.
But heavy.
Like breath on the back of his neck.
He didn't turn around.
Because he already knew:
Something was watching him.
And it wasn't human.
---
Back in the upper levels of the sect, a meeting was underway.
Elder Wen stood before the stone table, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"He's been marked," said the second elder. "The veins have started to spread. I saw it myself."
"Does he show signs of instability?" asked a third.
"No," said Wen. "Which is worse."
A silence.
Then Grandmaster Yao spoke, voice low and firm.
"Then we begin."
Yao Xi, silent at the back of the hall, finally raised her eyes.
"Begin what?"
The Grandmaster didn't look at her.
But he answered.
"We will test the containment formation beneath the sect. Quietly."
"And if it doesn't hold?"
"Then we will force it to."
---
Jiang Xuan returned to the training fields that day.
Not to spar.
Not to impress.
To watch.
A group of disciples were gathered around a talisman array — small, beginner-level sealing techniques, drawn in ash and ink, meant to bind spirit beasts or weaken illusions.
One of the instructors nodded to him. "Want to join?"
He shook his head.
But something in the array caught his eye.
A faint glow.
Black.
Brief.
He stepped forward.
"Did you feel that?" he asked.
The others stared at him.
"Feel what?"
He crouched, touching the edge of the runes.
They were cold.
Wrong.
Resisting him.
He pulled his hand back, fingers tingling.
And the ink sparked for just a moment — flickering crimson, then dying out.
No one else saw.
But the feeling it left in his gut…
The seal is reacting to me.
Or rejecting me.
---
Later, in a shadowed corner of the library, Yao Xi found a scroll sealed in dust and spiderwebs.
She had searched for hours — not through spells or history, but psychology.
Records of madness.
Records of demonic possession.
And she found something.
Not about the Demon God.
But about a boy.
A disciple.
Hundreds of years ago.
He had power. Too much.
He could sense the qi of others, mimic their techniques, evolve faster than anyone.
Then one day, he stopped smiling.
Then stopped talking.
Then people began to vanish around him.
One by one.
Until nothing was left of him but a shadow in a mirror — and the feeling that he was still watching.
The final page of the scroll was torn.
But the name that remained burned itself into her memory.
Xuanyin.
She closed the scroll and whispered to herself:
"Jiang Xuan… you're not the first."
---
That evening, Jiang Xuan sat alone in the forest clearing behind the dorms.
The sky was almost black.
He tried to meditate.
To breathe.
To ignore the cold in his bones.
But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the coffin.
Heard the voice.
Felt the chains tightening.
Suddenly, a wind passed behind him — but it didn't stir the leaves.
It whispered.
Not with words.
But with presence.
He opened his eyes and turned—
There was nothing there.
Just trees.
Just shadow.
But the feeling didn't fade.
He stood slowly.
And on the tree beside him… something had been carved.
Not with a blade.
With claws.
Five long slashes.
Fresh.
Still steaming.
----
Jiang Xuan stared at the claw marks carved into the tree.
Each line was nearly half a hand deep, clean and precise. No creature in these mountains could leave a mark like that — not without roaring, tearing, destroying.
But the forest was silent.
Too silent.
He pressed his palm against the bark, fingers tracing the grooves.
Still warm.
Still fresh.
He turned slowly, scanning the woods behind him.
There was no wind. No rustle. Not even breath.
Only that watching feeling, like eyes pressing into his back from every direction.
He didn't unsheathe his sword.
He just stood still.
Waiting.
Listening.
---
A few hundred meters away, Yao Xi moved through the trees like a shadow.
She hadn't followed Jiang Xuan on purpose.
She'd come here often since joining the sect — to clear her head, to remember her mission.
But tonight, something felt different.
Wrong.
The qi in the air was twisted.
Heavy.
And in the distance, she saw a flicker of red.
Not fire.
Eyes.
They vanished before she could move.
She clenched her jaw and reached for her sword.
Not yet.
Not now.
She had to be sure.
---
Jiang Xuan finally moved.
He didn't run.
Didn't flee.
He walked deeper into the trees.
Every step forward felt like a descent.
Like the air itself got older.
He came to a clearing where the fog was thicker — not like the mist that blanketed the sect in the morning, but darker. Oily. Unnatural.
At its center, a figure stood.
Not cloaked.
Not masked.
Faceless.
No eyes. No mouth.
Just a head smooth as river stone, body draped in black silk that seemed to ripple without wind.
It didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just stood.
Watching.
Jiang Xuan froze.
"…Who are you?"
The figure tilted its head slightly.
Then it raised its hand.
Not to attack.
To point.
At him.
Then the voice came again.
From everywhere.
"You've been seen."
Jiang Xuan's blood ran cold.
"By who?"
The answer was a whisper.
"The ones who sleep beneath."
---
In the blink of an eye, the figure vanished.
No flash. No technique.
Just gone.
And the fog lifted as if it had never been there.
Jiang Xuan stood alone again.
But something had changed.
He could feel it.
In his chest. In his teeth. In the pit of his soul.
The thing inside him…
Was smiling.
---
Back at her quarters, Yao Xi sat by candlelight, fingers tight around the hilt of her blade.
The scroll about Xuanyin lay open beside her, the ink still smudged from age and ash.
She knew what she saw tonight.
And more importantly, she knew what it meant.
The Others were watching.
Entities tied to the Demon God — or born of him. Or maybe… devoured by him long ago, now clinging to reality through Jiang Xuan.
He was the beacon.
The crack in the mirror.
And if they were coming early…
Then something had gone very wrong with the timeline.
---
In the upper sanctum of the sect, Elder Wen stared at the sealed crystal mirror.
The artifact hadn't activated in decades.
Tonight, it shimmered.
Only once.
Only faintly.
But enough for him to see a shape in the reflection.
Not Jiang Xuan.
Not a disciple.
But something else.
A mass of shadow.
Limbs folding in unnatural directions.
Eyes blinking where there should be none.
He whispered to himself—
"They're coming through him."
He turned and vanished into the inner vault.
If they wanted to survive the next year…
they had to find the original seal.
Not the one buried.
The one that bound the soul.
---
Jiang Xuan returned to his quarters in silence.
He didn't light the lantern.
Didn't wash.
He sat in the dark, back against the wall, staring into nothing.
He could still feel the thing watching.
But deeper now.
Inside him.
Whispering things he couldn't yet understand.
He pressed a hand to his neck.
The mark was burning.
Lines had stretched past his collarbone now — reaching toward his heart.
He didn't call for help.
Didn't scream.
Because deep down, he wasn't afraid anymore.
He was…
curious.
----
End of Chapter 10