The morning light slid across the mountain peaks, washing away the storm that had raged through the night. Fan Ling lay beneath the pavilion roof, his breath steady but his body heavy, the faint marks of sealing runes still glowing across his arms.
Jeff sat nearby, poking a small campfire back to life. "Man," he muttered, "next time you want to train, remind me to stand ten kilometers away."
Fan Ling groaned, half-smiling. "If I knew it would go like that, I'd have tied myself down first."
His uncle approached, robes slightly torn from the duel but eyes calm. "Your body survived the merging," he said, "but that power is not yet yours. Chaos does not serve anyone—it must be reasoned with."
Jeff tossed him a canteen. "Reasoned with? You make it sound like talking to a volcano."
"Exactly," the uncle replied.
Fan Ling sat up slowly. He could feel the pulse of something new inside him—a rhythm that wasn't just mana, but life itself twisted with shadow and light. "It's like it's breathing with me," he said. "Alive, but asleep."
His uncle nodded. "Then let it sleep until you learn control. You've awakened a force older than cultivation and magic alike."
---
Far beyond the valley, deep under the ruins of an ancient temple, something stirred.
Cracked stone pillars glowed with red inscriptions as dust fell from the ceiling.
A figure in black robes opened its eyes for the first time in centuries.
"So… chaos has awakened again," it whispered, voice like wind scraping iron. "After one hundred thousand years."
The figure raised a hand, and dozens of shadowy silhouettes knelt around it.
"Prepare the Rite of Return. The Heir of Destruction walks once more."
---
Back on the mountain, Jeff and Fan Ling shared a quiet meal of roasted fish.
Jeff couldn't resist teasing. "So… chaos huh? Sounds cool. Think it comes with a free haircut and a glowing tattoo set?"
Fan Ling snorted. "If it did, I'd give you the extra one."
"Generous as always."
Their laughter echoed softly against the cliffs—a fragile peace after the storm.
But the uncle watched the sky, expression tightening. Clouds were forming again, this time from the south, rolling unnaturally fast.
He murmured, "The world will not stay quiet after such a surge. Others will come—those who worship chaos, and those who fear it."
Fan Ling's hand instinctively went to his chest where the rune still pulsed faintly. "Then let them come," he said. "I've already faced what's inside me."
Jeff grinned, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "Great. But next time, can we face something smaller? Like, maybe a slime or two?"
Fan Ling laughed, standing up beside him. "Deal."
Above them, thunder rolled—not natural thunder, but the echo of distant power awakening in answer to his.
The storm had only just begun