Chapter 8: Whispers from the Void, Echoes in Blood
It had been three days since Tham Duong completed the Soulbrand Pact with Huyết Ảnh.
In that time, he had barely slept.
Not because of nightmares—he had long grown used to those—but because every time he entered a meditative state, he could feel her.
Ly Huyên.
She no longer spoke. Not directly.
But her will moved within the sword. Occasionally, he'd feel his thoughts drift toward violence, ruthlessness… even cruelty. And each time, it took everything in him to push it down.
"You will be tested," she had warned.
"The blade remembers blood. And so must you."
Today was the Outer Sect Selection Duel.
A public event. One where outer disciples challenged each other for position, resources—and possible promotion.
But for Tham Duong, it was something else.
It was bait.
He stood in the open dueling grounds, surrounded by other disciples. His name had already been drawn. His opponent?
Hoang Tuấn Kiệt—the inner disciple who had once stolen Duong's pill formula, nearly crippled him, and then pinned the blame on him.
Duong's former self had been too weak, too trusting.
This time… things were different.
Tuấn Kiệt approached with a confident smirk, golden inner sect robes gleaming in the sun.
"Well well," he sneered. "The failed alchemist returns. I suppose you want revenge?"
"No," Duong said flatly.
The crowd murmured.
"No?" Tuấn Kiệt repeated.
"I want justice."
The referee raised his hand. "Begin!"
Tuấn Kiệt struck first—his palm shrouded in gold Qi, the signature technique of the Kim Lôi Hồn Phách school.
Duong didn't move.
The blow landed—but instead of flying backward, Duong twisted with the impact, redirecting it like flowing water.
Tai Chi energy manipulation.
Where did he learn that?
A second strike came—this time imbued with thunder energy.
Duong stepped to the side. Not fast. Not dramatic. But precise.
Then he drew Huyết Ảnh.
The blade shone with a dim red glow, subtle yet chilling.
Tuấn Kiệt froze. "What kind of sword is that?"
Duong answered with a single cut.
There was no Qi explosion. No blast of power.
Just one thin, shallow line across Tuấn Kiệt's chest.
The crowd scoffed. "He missed—"
Then Tuấn Kiệt collapsed.
His meridians had been sliced—not his flesh.
Silence fell.
Duong stood over him.
"Inner disciple?" he said quietly. "You're not even qualified to be a servant."
Then he turned and walked away.
No cheers. No applause.
Just stunned silence.
Far above, on a floating jade platform, Tuyết Thương watched with narrowed eyes.
Her attendant stepped forward. "He's changed."
She nodded. "Yes. And not naturally."
"Should we test him further?"
"No," she said. "We wait. Let him grow."
"Why?"
She turned to the mountains beyond.
"Because something worse is coming."
That night, Duong returned to the cave where he had bound the sword.
But this time, someone was waiting.
A girl in white robes.
Calm. Serene.
Eyes closed, yet she somehow saw more than most.
"You walk a dangerous path, Tham Duong."
He paused. "Who are you?"
She smiled faintly. "A Seer. One who walks between what was… and what will be."
"That's not an answer."
"No," she agreed. "But answers come with price."
He frowned. "You're not from the sect."
"I was," she said softly. "Once. Before I saw it fall."
Duong narrowed his eyes. "You've seen the future."
She nodded.
"And?"
"You die. Screaming."
Silence.
Then Duong asked the only question that mattered.
"Who kills me?"
She turned her face toward the moonlight.