Dawn broke crimson over the Crimson Hollow Range. The clouds above the peaks shimmered like liquid blood.
Inside the main palace, bells tolled again. Servants rushed through corridors lined with obsidian mirrors; banners bearing the crescent insignia of the Blood Moon swayed in the wind.
In his small chamber, Lin Qing was still trying to tie the complicated robe they had left for him. It had more belts than sense.
Li Chun fussed around him with the panic of a man attending his own execution.
"Heir Lin Qing, the Elders have been waiting since dawn! The Grand Council gathers only when the sect declares an era change!"
"Then let's not keep history waiting," Lin Qing muttered, tightening the final knot until it looked accidental but worked.
---
The Hall of Eclipse had transformed overnight. Pillars now blazed with runes, and dozens of high-ranking disciples knelt along the walls.
At the far end, the Seven Elders sat beneath a suspended crescent mirror that reflected the Blood Moon above.
Elder Hei stepped forward, mask gleaming.
"The Sect bows to the will of Heaven. The Blood Moon Heir walks among us once more."
The crowd lowered their heads in perfect unison. The silence that followed was heavier than sound.
Lin Qing forced a steady breath. "Rise."
The word came out smoother than expected. Maybe divine authority was contagious.
Saintess Yao stood from her seat, her expression calm but eyes sharp. "For centuries the sect waited for the omen foretold in the Scroll of Crimson Destiny. The Blood Heir would return under a false moon, and his first breath would shake the mountains. Yesterday, the mountains trembled."
Her gaze lingered on him. "Yet the Heir in those prophecies was said to burn with wrath and bloodlust. You, Heir Lin Qing, seem… composed."
Lin Qing gave the faintest smile. "Anger is a tool, not a nature. The Blood Moon favors silence before slaughter."
A murmur rippled through the chamber. Elder Hei inclined his head. "Wisdom worthy of the Moon itself."
Another Elder, old and sharp-voiced, leaned forward. "Then what is the Heir's command? Shall the Ebon Moon march again? The Abyssal Flame Sect gathers armies near the frontier. The righteous dogs of the Holy Lands send spies daily."
So much for a calm meeting. Lin Qing hid his panic behind a thoughtful pause, letting his Heavenly Insight flare. Lines of intent, fear, and greed appeared around each Elder like faint threads of light. He followed them, then spoke the only thing that sounded strategic.
"Let the Abyssal Flame Sect burn itself first. Fire always hungers—it will consume its own kind before it reaches us. As for the Holy Lands, the shadow grows clearer when light draws closer. We watch. We do not blink."
The room stilled. Then Elder Hei bowed deeply. "The Heir sees through chaos itself."
Saintess Yao's lips curved faintly. "So the Blood Moon chooses patience this age."
Lin Qing inclined his head as if that had been the plan all along.
---
The council ended with chants and ceremonial bows. As attendants dispersed, Elder Hei approached him privately.
"The Saintess has ordered the Scripture Hall opened for you," he said. "Every Heir must select a personal cultivation scripture. Even your body's divinity needs a path."
Lin Qing nodded. "Then I'll start reading before anyone decides I'm divine enough to skip homework."
Elder Hei didn't laugh; few in the sect ever did. "The Hall has not been opened in two centuries. Take care. The formations test more than comprehension—they test truth."
"Truth," Lin Qing echoed, unsure if that was a warning or a threat.
Back in the corridor, Li Chun nearly bounced beside him. "The Scripture Hall, Heir! It's said every scroll inside is written with the Moon's blood! Even Elders fear to enter!"
"Wonderful," Lin Qing said. "Maybe I'll borrow a light novel while I'm there."
Li Chun blinked. "A what?"
"Never mind."
They walked toward the upper mountain path, where the air shimmered faintly red. From here, the entire sect spread beneath them—hundreds of stone courtyards, rivers of glowing qi running between towers. Far to the west, thunder rumbled across the horizon.
Lin Qing watched it for a moment. "Abyssal Flame Sect," he murmured. "Looks like they're already moving."
Li Chun glanced up, startled. "The Heir sees so far?"
"I just have good eyesight," Lin Qing said. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the storm wasn't just weather.
That night, the Blood Moon rose brighter than before, painting the scripture mountain in red.
And as Lin Qing approached the sealed gates of the Scripture Hall, ancient runes stirred awake—each one whispering his name as if it already knew who he was.
He looked up at the carvings that shimmered like eyes. "Great," he muttered. "More people who expect miracles."
The gates groaned open. Warm crimson light spilled out.
Tomorrow, he would either find a cultivation technique—or another way to die pretending to be divine.