Chapter 14: Shadows Beneath the Sect
The morning sun cast golden light across the Heavenly Sky Sect, but Tham Duong's heart remained steeped in twilight.
The dream had left echoes in his soul — not just memories of a distant war, but the weight of choices made across lifetimes.
He walked the path leading to the Hall of Ancestral Flames, where every core disciple would soon gather for the annual Soul Tempering Trial — a test meant to push one's spiritual foundation to its limits, forcing breakthroughs… or death.
But Duong had other reasons to attend.
Reasons rooted in what the Mirror of Mourning showed him — a flash of red silk, a name long buried: Bạch Tiêu Vân.
As he entered the hall, dozens of eyes turned.
Some curious.
Some respectful.
Some quietly hostile.
Among them, one gaze burned colder than the rest — Mạc Hàn, the Ice Vein prodigy from the Northern Peak.
Duong had heard whispers that Hàn was chosen to inherit the Frozen Core Lotus Scripture, a technique so deadly it had been banned by three sect alliances in the last century.
But Duong also knew something else.
In his past life, Mạc Hàn had stood atop the walls of Frostmourne Keep, and ordered an execution.
An execution that never should've happened.
Duong's jaw tightened.
The Hall Grandmaster stepped forward — an old man with eyes so sharp they seemed to peel away your thoughts.
"Today, you who are gathered will enter the Soul Inferno, a dimensional array of fire and illusion," he announced. "Each of you will face your deepest fear. Survive it, and earn the Flame Token. Fail… and your cultivation will shatter, perhaps forever."
A murmur passed through the crowd.
Then the Grandmaster turned his gaze to Duong.
"You'll enter first."
Of course.
He's testing me, Duong thought.
But he merely nodded.
"I accept."
Inside the Soul Inferno
The moment Duong stepped through the portal, flames consumed the world.
But they didn't burn him.
They whispered.
They wrapped around his spirit like memories made of smoke.
Before him appeared… himself.
But not the current him.
Not the Duong of this life.
Not even the warlord of his previous one.
This was the child — Tham Duong at age ten, standing barefoot on cracked temple tiles, tears streaking down his face.
Behind the child, a woman lay dying — her body broken, her robes soaked in blood.
"Mother…"
The word left him like a wound re-opened.
She looked up, eyes dimming, and reached for him.
"Don't let them take your name…"
Then the flames roared higher.
The vision shifted.
Now he stood in chains again.
A man in imperial robes pointed at him.
"You are sentenced to eternal scattering. May your soul never find rest."
Then came the knives.
And the betrayals.
Mạc Hàn, laughing.
Tiêu Vân, crying.
And Lan Yên… whispering something he couldn't hear.
Duong dropped to his knees.
The fire grew brighter.
He clenched his fists.
"No."
"Not this time."
He pushed his will outward.
And the illusions shattered.
Back in the hall, silence fell as the portal rippled open.
Tham Duong stepped out — his aura sharper than before, his spiritual energy boiling beneath the skin.
The Grandmaster raised an eyebrow.
"You tempered not just your soul, but your past, didn't you?"
Duong said nothing.
But his eyes burned like twin stars.
The other disciples dared not speak.
Even Mạc Hàn's smirk had vanished.
Later that night, Duong returned to his quarters to find a letter pinned to his door.
It bore no name. Only a symbol.
A serpent devouring the sun.
He recognized it instantly.
The Mark of the Ouroboros Sect — a hidden faction of spiritual assassins.
He opened the letter.
"The past breathes. The Red Mother wakes. You walk where no heir should tread.
You are invited to the Gathering. Midnight.
Beneath the Lake of Fallen Stars."
Duong crushed the parchment in his hand.
He had suspected the cult would reach out to him — sooner or later.
But he didn't expect the Lake.
Because in his past life…
That's where he buried her.
Midnight
The Lake of Fallen Stars was silent, its waters reflecting the night sky like a mirror.
Duong stood at its edge, sword strapped to his back, heart steady.
When the moon hit its zenith, the lake rippled.
From its depths rose a figure in black robes, face hidden behind a silver mask.
"You came," the masked one said.
Duong didn't reply.
"I offer you a place," the voice continued. "In the new order. The Mother remembers you."
Duong's eyes narrowed.
"I remember her too. And I remember what she did to my brother."
The masked figure stiffened.
Duong stepped forward.
"You want me to join you?"
He drew his sword.
"Then let's see if you can survive the invitation."
Steel met spirit as the first strike flashed like lightning across the lake's surface.
Duong moved like a storm unchained — every swing laced with fury and calculation.
The cultist parried, sending waves crashing.
But Duong was faster.
Smarter.
Deadlier.
With a final arc, his blade carved through the mask.
It fell into the water.
Beneath it was a face he hadn't seen in years.
"Bạch… Tiêu Vân?"
She looked up at him, blood on her lips.
"Duong… it was always you."