The battlefield lay in ruin, soaked in blood and ash. The Fourth Forbidden Art had torn through the mountain range, leaving only broken stones and smoldering earth in its wake. Mo Lianyin stood amidst the devastation, his black robes flapping violently in the wind, his expression calm—too calm.
A gust of wind carried the metallic scent of blood and the distant murmurs of awe-struck cultivators. Word of his victory over Elder Yinhai had already spread like wildfire, striking fear and excitement into the hearts of sects across the realm.
"He defeated an elder of the Azure Spirit Sect… alone?" a whisper echoed from the shadows.
"The Forbidden Arts… they've returned."
Mo Lianyin heard them all, but his focus lay elsewhere. Beneath the cracked earth, an energy pulsed faintly—ancient, resentful, and familiar. It was the energy of the fifth art.
"It calls me," he murmured, his golden eyes narrowing.
He knelt and placed his palm upon the ground. A torrent of visions burst into his mind: firestorms over floating cities, a phoenix weeping at dusk, and a chained god howling beneath a blood-stained moon. Among it all stood a masked figure, veiled in obsidian mist.
"Velaris," Lianyin whispered, recognizing the ancient guardian of the fifth art. The Tomb of Shadows was awakening.
---
That night, the sky turned red.
Mo Lianyin camped alone at the edge of the valley. Thunder rumbled from a cloudless sky. Lightning slashed silently through the stars. He sat in deep meditation, his soul connected to the flow of celestial qi.
As his consciousness sank deeper, a voice entered his mind—silken, cold.
"Child of sorrow, bearer of flame… why do you seek what was sealed to protect the world?"
He opened his eyes slowly. Before him stood a figure clad in mourning robes, face hidden beneath a silver veil. Her aura was immense, her power ancient.
"You are one of the Watchers," he said.
She nodded. "The Fifth Forbidden Art—Veins of the Abyss—carries the memory of a forgotten war. You must offer more than strength to earn it. You must offer grief."
He didn't flinch. "Then I will give it."
She raised her hand. The valley trembled. Spirits began to rise—shadows of those Lianyin had killed. His father. His master. His betrayers. Even Jiang Mei's silhouette appeared, though she had not died.
They all turned their hollow gazes toward him.
"To master the Veins of the Abyss, you must carry the pain of every death you've caused. You must bleed… not from your body, but from your soul."
Suddenly, agony tore through him—not physical, but spiritual. His heart cried out as sorrow, guilt, and rage stormed his mind. The illusion was real, and the burden nearly broke him.
But he did not fall.
He knelt, hands trembling, breath shallow—but his resolve never wavered.
"I did not choose sorrow. It chose me. But I will carry it—for power, for revenge, for truth."
The Watcher slowly nodded.
"Then rise, Mo Lianyin. The Fifth Art is yours… and with it, the chains that will one day bind your destiny to the void."
As dawn broke, Mo Lianyin stood at the edge of the cliff, veins glowing with silver-black light, eyes hollow from the weight of memory.
He had passed the trial. But the price had only just begun.
---
In the East, the Sect of Heavenly Law declared him a heretic.
In the West, the stars shifted alignment.
And in the deep underworld, something ancient smiled in the dark.