(Liang Yu's POV)
The forest was too quiet.
Even the leaves seemed to hold their breath. Not a rustle, not the hum of insects, not the faint heartbeat of a lesser beast disturbed the air. The silence pressed down like mist, heavy and ancient.
Lian's hand found mine before I could ask. His fingers were cold but firm — grounding me as the world around us stilled.
"Stay close," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Don't use your divine sense. Something old is watching."
The children obeyed without question, their small faces pale. I felt the faint stir of my cyan wood mana instinctively reach for them — a thread of protection, a whisper of life energy that would conceal their presence.
Then I felt it.
A pressure. Vast, yet strangely serene. Like the weight of a mountain, or the hush before thunder.
The wind stirred. A silver light broke through the trees — and from the mist stepped a creature that didn't belong to mortal soil.
Its body shimmered like moonlit glass, fur rippling with liquid radiance. Antlers arched high, veined with patterns that pulsed with faint celestial light. Every breath it exhaled carried a faint fragrance of morning dew and storm rain — pure, ancient, untainted.
Lian froze. "A… Silver Qilin Deer," he whispered hoarsely, disbelief trembling in his voice. "A guardian beast. But how—? This land hasn't seen a divine-tier spirit beast in millennia."
The beast's eyes, deep pools of silver-blue, turned to him — then to me.
It stepped forward, slow and deliberate. Every movement made the ground hum faintly, as if the forest's mana bowed to its will.
Lian stepped ahead of me immediately, protective instinct blazing. "Yu, behind me. If it attacks, run with the children. I'll hold it off."
"Lian—"
But before I could speak, the air trembled — and then, softly, gently, a voice bloomed inside our minds.
"Do not fear."
The tone was hypnotic — not cold, but regal. It wasn't speech, not exactly; it was resonance. A divine thought brushing against our spirits.
The beast's gaze softened as it looked at me. A flicker of surprise shimmered in its luminous eyes.
"You," it said. "You were the one who inherited the jade slip within the old cave."
My breath caught. "You… know of it?"
"Know?" The deer's voice carried both sorrow and awe. "I was its watcher. The last warden bound to the Eastern Leyline. When my master fell, I remained — to guard what remnants of his inheritance the world had not yet devoured."
Lian's expression tightened. "You're saying… that inheritance was divine level?"
The Qilin Deer inclined its head slightly. "It was." Its tone darkened, echoing through the trees. "The inheritance you carry belongs to the Alchemical Sage of Creation — one of the last to defy heaven's corruption. His art could weave life from decay, heal land and soul alike. But his legacy was sealed after his fall. Only one fated by the earth's will could awaken it again."
A chill traced my spine. "And… you mean I'm that person?"
"You are the inheritor. The one who accepted his spirit's test."
It stepped closer, its light brushing against my skin — not burning, but strangely gentle, as if tasting my mana. The energy between us stirred — my cyan wood essence shivering in response to its silvery radiance. Life meeting divinity.
For a long moment, it said nothing. Then, with a faint sigh, the beast's antlers dimmed.
"This land is dying, Liang Yu. The mana of the Eastern Continent is thinning with every passing moon. My own essence wanes — I can no longer uphold the balance. When I fall, this continent will turn barren."
Lian clenched his fists. "But how can that be? The leyline shouldn't fail unless…"
"Unless the Seed of Life fades." The beast's voice held sorrow. "The root of this continent's mana cycle. It was once guarded in a secret realm beyond this forest — but it was sealed after the great collapse. Only one bearing the Alchemical Sage's inheritance may pass the seal."
I felt my heart race. "You're saying that… I must go there?"
"You must," the deer said simply. "To retrieve the Seed of Life — and rekindle the balance before all life perishes."
A silence fell between us.
The words felt too heavy. Too divine. I was barely at Initiate Realm — a novice walking the path. To shoulder such a fate…
Lian's hand brushed mine again. "You're asking him to risk his life for a legend. He's not ready."
"Fate does not wait for readiness," the deer replied, calm yet unyielding. "And the secret realm's gate opens but once in an era. If he does not enter it now, all will wither."
Lian's aura flared — his thunder mana crackled faintly, protective and fierce. "You speak as though there's no choice."
"There isn't," the deer said softly. "But he will not go alone."
It turned its gaze to him, a strange light glimmering in its eyes. "You, thunder cultivator — your soul resonates with his. The heavens will accept your presence by his side."
Lian looked at me, conflict shadowing his gaze. "…If I go, who will protect the children?"
That question pierced the silence like a blade. I looked at our small ones — two small souls leaning against each other, eyes wide with fear and wonder.
"They can't come," I whispered. "The secret realm might kill them."
"They will not be alone," the deer said suddenly. "I will guard them."
Lian's eyes narrowed. "You?"
The deer's expression softened. "My power may fade, but I can still bend the flow of time within this forest. Here, they will be safe. I will teach them the foundation of mana sense and protect them until you return."
I swallowed hard. "And if we don't?"
The silver beast lowered its head slightly — an act that somehow felt heavier than a bow. "Then they will remain under my care until the end. But know this — your bond, your love, has already altered the fate lines of this land. The inheritance chose you not merely for talent, but for heart."
The words struck something deep inside me — the echo of the Sage's voice from the inheritance, the warmth that had whispered: "Alchemy is creation born of compassion."
My hands trembled. "Then tell me what to do."
The deer's antlers pulsed, silver light rippling outward, forming a faint sigil in the air — a map made of mana threads, depicting mountains, rivers, and a single glowing mark deep within the eastern range.
"Beyond the Silverroot Mountains lies the Gate of Verdant Echo. You will find a small lake — its waters will shimmer even in shadow. Dive beneath it. The portal sleeps there. Only those bound by the Alchemical Seal may awaken it."
Lian's jaw tightened. "And within?"
"Trials. Flame, spirit, and will. The secret realm tests the heart of the Alchemist, not the strength of his fists. Many entered. None returned."
A cold wind passed between us. Even the children stirred, clutching at my robe.
Lian turned toward me then, his expression taut — protective, conflicted, unbearably tender. "Yu… are you sure you want this?"
I looked at him — at his golden eyes, the faint shimmer of lightning flickering beneath his skin, the man who had stood by me through beasts, hunger, and storm.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But if I don't try… everything we've built, everything this land gave us, will vanish. You once told me power means protecting what you love. Then this is my path."
He was silent for a long while. Then, with a sigh that trembled faintly, he pressed his forehead against mine.
"Then I'll walk it with you," he whispered. "Even if heaven itself stands against us."
The deer's eyes gleamed, approving, ancient light flickering like dawn breaking after an endless night.
"So it shall be."
The sigil glowed brighter, embedding itself faintly into my consciousness sea — a mark of passage. My mana stirred, reacting to it — the inheritance seal within me pulsing faintly with warmth.
The forest trembled, faint motes of light drifting through the air — like the world itself recognized the vow just spoken.
The beast stepped back, voice soft yet carrying the weight of heaven's decree.
"Prepare yourselves. The realm will open in three nights. Come to the lake when the silver moon reaches its zenith."
Lian nodded, his tone steady but eyes shadowed. "And the children?"
The Qilin's tail swayed gently, silver motes falling like feathers. "They will stay with me. I will guide them in sensing the world's rhythm, in awakening the first spark. When you return — they will already have taken their first step upon the path."
I knelt, brushing the children's hair with trembling hands. They didn't understand everything, but their small eyes shimmered with trust.
"Stay with the Guardian," I said softly. "Listen to his words. And no matter what happens, know that we will come back."
The little one — our youngest — clutched my sleeve. "Promise?"
I smiled, though it hurt. "Promise."
When I rose, Lian's hand found mine again. No words were needed between us. Only the quiet vow in our hearts — the kind that didn't need to be spoken to be real.
Above us, the deer lifted its gaze toward the fading sun.
"Three nights," it repeated. "Do not fail. The Seed of Life waits for those who dare to mend the broken world."
The air shimmered — silver ripples spreading through the trees as the Guardian's divine presence began to fade, merging once more with the ancient mana flow.
And when silence returned, it was not the empty kind. It was heavy with promise, with uncertainty — with the quiet heartbeat of destiny awakening.
Lian's hand tightened around mine. "Yu," he said quietly.
"Hmm?"
He looked at me, eyes soft, voice low enough that only I could hear.
"If we live through this… I'll build you a garden. A real one. Not just in a cave."
I laughed softly, the sound breaking the thick air around us. "Then I'll make you a thousand elixirs to fill it."
Our laughter — brief, quiet — was swallowed by the forest wind. But for a heartbeat, the dying land seemed to breathe again.
And above us, unseen, the silver eyes of the Guardian watched — the faint echo of its voice whispering through the wind:
"The path of creation begins with love."
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To be continued….