The morning light was pale, diffused through the lingering mists of Cloudstride Gorge. Yet Lin Xuan did not notice the sun; his attention was fixed on the pale column of golden radiance that had descended upon him, still pulsing faintly against the cracked stone beneath his feet. Each beat resonated like a heartbeat, not merely of flesh but of the world itself.
Yu Qinglin stood a short distance behind, her silver hair catching the scattered rays of light. She dared not speak, for the presence above was no longer Heaven as mortals imagined. It was the voice of eternity, a Dao beyond comprehension, an omnipotent gaze that touched the very marrow of existence.
Lin Xuan inhaled slowly, feeling the pulse of the Third Dragon Vein within his body respond. The jade currents flowed in intricate spirals along his meridians, coiling like serpents around his bones, vibrating with a rhythm that echoed the heavenly column. This was the blessing. A touch, a whisper, a fragment of Dao had descended and lingered upon his soul.
"Lin Xuan…" Yu Qinglin's voice trembled, hesitant. "Do you feel it?"
He nodded, though words failed him. The blessing was not a sensation easily described. It was not warmth, nor power, nor light—it was understanding. Every particle of the world seemed to hum with meaning, and for a fleeting instant, he perceived the architecture of fate itself: the flowing paths of Heaven, the silent weight of mortal desire, the threads of qi that bound the mountain, the river, and even the village below.
Yet beneath this sublime clarity, a subtle tremor lingered, like a shadow behind the radiance. It was a warning. Lin Xuan's perception stretched far, far beyond the column. Through the mountains, the forests, the rivers, he glimpsed faint movements: distant cultivators sensing the surge of his Third Vein, sect elders awakening from meditation, spirits long sealed within ancient ruins stirring in uneasy slumber.
So Heaven watches… and warns.
He understood then: the blessing came paired with a caution. Power was never free. Every step upward demanded vigilance. Every illumination cast a shadow.
He raised a hand, fingers tracing the air where the golden radiance had descended. Jade currents coalesced around his palm, forming a faint lattice that resonated with the column above. The lattice hummed softly, a subtle melody woven into the Dao itself. Each note carried knowledge, a whisper of techniques long buried, strategies of cultivation forgotten by all but the most ancient beings.
Yu Qinglin's eyes widened. "It… it's teaching you?"
Lin Xuan's lips curved faintly. "Not teaching. Suggesting. Heaven does not instruct the Collector; it only offers a mirror. What is reflected depends on what is already within."
The winds around them shifted. Mist curled and recoiled as though conscious, flowing into the lattice of jade light, intertwining with the energy of his veins. Mountains trembled, and the forest floor shivered beneath the pulse of Heaven's blessing.
Yet Lin Xuan did not rejoice. His gaze lifted past the mists to the horizon, where faint disturbances quivered like ripples on water. The warning had revealed itself: subtle, almost imperceptible, yet undeniable. The movements were deliberate, measured. Entities far more powerful than mortals, more patient than sect elders, were now aware of him.
"They have felt the pulse of the Third Vein," Lin Xuan murmured.
Yu Qinglin followed his gaze. Her heart tightened. "Are they coming for you?"
He shook his head, yet the motion carried no reassurance. "Not yet. But the moment a mortal senses the tremor of Heaven, it becomes inevitable that cultivators will seek it. Some for curiosity, some for fear, some for ambition."
The mountain sighed beneath them, as though acknowledging the truth of his words. The third dragon vein had not merely awakened—it had sung a note too deep, a note that would echo across the lands.
Lin Xuan lowered his palms, and the lattice of jade light contracted, coiling tighter around his chest. Within that contraction, the blessing revealed its purpose: clarity. Not of the external world, but of the inner Dao.
He could feel it—threads of his own cultivation, once tangled and uncertain, now aligned. Each meridian, each vein, each pulse of essence connected to the next, forming a lattice within his body that mirrored the lattice above.
He inhaled. A calm yet potent warmth spread from his core, not a fire of destruction, but the soft certainty of being. His thoughts sharpened; no impulse was unnecessary, no action misguided. The blessing did not grant power—it refined it, shaped it into precision, a mirror for the trials yet to come.
"Lin Xuan…" Yu Qinglin stepped closer. Her voice carried awe, tinged with fear. "Your cultivation… it's advancing faster than I've ever seen."
He gave her a faint nod. "It is not me. It is Dao. I am merely the vessel."
And yet, even as the blessing illuminated him, the warning pulsed beneath it, cold and precise. Somewhere, far beyond the mountains, eyes had turned toward the pulse of Heaven. And their gaze was patient, calculating, and deadly.
The first movement came as a ripple in the river below the village. The waters darkened, swirling unnaturally. Fish leapt into the air, screaming in shrill, impossible cries. Livestock scattered, and even the wind hesitated, carrying a cold undertone that had nothing to do with temperature.
Yu Qinglin's voice trembled. "Lin Xuan… it's happening…"
Lin Xuan closed his eyes. He did not need to see. The lattice within him resonated faintly with a distant energy—unmistakably a cultivator's aura, ancient and dangerous. Someone or something had traced the signal of the Third Dragon Vein, and Heaven had warned him of this detection.
They are approaching… slowly, deliberately… testing.
He exhaled, and a pulse of jade light expanded outward, brushing against the trees, the earth, and even the clouds. The lattice hummed in response, a prelude to action.
"If they come for the vein, they will not meet a mortal," Lin Xuan whispered.
Yu Qinglin's heart beat fast. "You… you will fight them?"
He shook his head. "No. Not yet. I will observe first. The Third Vein must remain unbroken. A direct clash could harm it, or worse…" His voice trailed, unspoken consequences left in the silence.
Meanwhile, the villagers watched the sky with growing fear. The pale sunlight that should have bathed their homes seemed filtered through a veil of energy. Birds circled erratically, fleeing patterns known only to them. Children pointed at strange streaks in the clouds, calling them "Heaven's threads."
An elder among them muttered, voice trembling, "The mountain… it speaks."
Lin Xuan felt their fear, but not as a disturbance. It was a reflection of Heaven's decree, a signal of the delicate balance between mortal perception and divine will.
The blessing comes… the warning follows. All are witnesses, even those who cannot see.
Lin Xuan seated himself on the cracked stone platform. The lattice of jade light pulsed in tune with his heartbeat. The blessing allowed him to perceive the world's weave; the warning made him aware of threads that threatened to ensnare him.
He closed his eyes. Thoughts became still. Spirit and flesh merged with the lattice. The Third Dragon Vein no longer slumbered—it flowed, alive, a river of jade light entwined with the essence of Heaven itself.
Yu Qinglin knelt beside him, whispering, "Do you think… you can handle both?"
He opened his eyes, calm and unyielding. "Blessing and warning are one path. To follow one is to ignore the other. Only by acknowledging both can the heart of a Collector remain unshaken."
A soft wind stirred around them. The lattice responded, flaring slightly as if affirming his resolution. The blessing offered strength. The warning sharpened caution. Together, they became more than power—they became clarity.
Far beyond the mountains, in a valley hidden from mortal sight, a cultivator stirred. He had felt the pulse. His eyes narrowed, reflecting the pale gold of Heaven's column. A low chuckle escaped him.
"So… the Third Dragon Vein awakens. Lin Xuan finally moves in accordance with Heaven's will… and yet, I sense the threads of mortality twisting beneath it. Interesting."
He extended his hand, and an aura like frozen starlight stretched across the distance. The world seemed to bend subtly toward him, drawn by the unseen force of the Third Vein's resonance.
Lin Xuan did not yet see him. But the lattice of jade light flared, sensing the approach.
Heaven has warned. The Collector is ready to listen.
The column above them pulsed once more, and the mists parted. Lin Xuan rose to his feet. His jade veins glowed faintly beneath his skin, intertwined with threads of gold and pale green.
Yu Qinglin stood beside him. Her silver hair danced like moonlight. "They're coming," she said softly.
He nodded. "Then let them watch. The Dao has descended upon my mortal heart. Let the world learn that blessings are not free, and warnings are never empty."
He stepped forward, and the lattice of jade light expanded outward, embracing the mountain, the village, the forest, and the skies above. Heaven had blessed him, Heaven had warned him—and Lin Xuan's heart, steady as a mountain, was ready to meet both.
The wind whispered. The trees bowed. The waters trembled.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, a cultivator-level presence stirred, alerted to the pulse of Heaven.
The eternal path of the Collector stretched onward, and for the first time, the mortal and divine watched together as the heart of the Dragon Vein fully awakened.