Chapter Four — The Weight of a Shattered Heaven
The sect was silent.
Too silent for a place that once trembled with chants and sword hymns.
Since the Heavenly Eye's rupture, Cloudpeak Sect had been blanketed in dread. The skies were still split — veins of molten gold crawling across the firmament like Heaven's own wounds. Disciples no longer dared to train outside. Even the mountain beasts howled at night, as if they'd seen the end of days.
But inside the Hall of Silent Mirrors, only two figures stood.
Jiang Yunxian and the Sect Master.
The floor gleamed like frozen water, reflecting Yunxian's pale face and the quiet fury behind his eyes.
> "You shattered a divine seal," the Sect Master said, voice deep as stone. "That eye was carved by Heaven itself. What madness drove you to touch it?"
Yunxian's jaw tightened.
> "If Heaven fears being touched, perhaps it shouldn't hang so low."
Gasps erupted from the attending elders. One even dropped his prayer bead string. But Yunxian did not flinch. He had seen death before — his own, perhaps more than once.
The Sect Master's gaze hardened.
> "You've grown insolent, boy. The Heavenly Eye watches all. Now it's blind, and the heavens are stirring. Do you know what this means?"
> "That Heaven bleeds like the rest of us," Yunxian said flatly.
Lightning cracked through the clouds above the hall, shaking the pillars. The mirrors around them trembled — and in the ripples, Yunxian saw fragments of something ancient: a man in battle robes laughing amidst ruin, his spear dripping with divine ichor; an immortal throne overturned, flames devouring the stars.
And a voice — his own voice — whispered through the visions.
> You were never meant to kneel.
The Sect Master rose from his seat, sleeves snapping in spiritual pressure.
> "Enough! Until we understand what's happened, you'll be confined to the South Pavilion. Pray that Heaven's wrath doesn't descend upon this sect because of you."
Yunxian bowed shallowly, not out of fear, but to keep his smirk unseen.
> "Heaven's wrath…? Let it come. It already knows my name."
He turned and walked out, his reflection following him across the mirrored floor — each step echoing with a faint hum of power that wasn't supposed to exist in a mortal body.
Outside, disciples scattered. Some crossed their hands in prayer. Others whispered as he passed.
> "He's cursed."
"He's the Careless Immortal."
"He's the one Heaven failed to kill."
Above them all, the sky pulsed once — as if something vast and ancient had just opened an eye.
And far beyond the mortal realm, where divine flame met the void, a forgotten will stirred again — laughing quietly.
"So… you've returned, Yunxian."
__
The South Pavilion stood on the edge of Cloudpeak, where the mist never cleared and the air tasted faintly of steel. It was a place for isolation — not reflection.
For three days, Jiang Yunxian sat cross-legged before a sealed window, silent as the mountain itself. His spiritual veins still trembled from the backlash of shattering Heaven's Eye. Inside him, a strange resonance echoed — as if something was trying to awaken, a power older than cultivation itself.
He'd felt it since that day — a heartbeat not his own, steady and defiant.
When the door finally opened, the scent of sandalwood drifted in. A figure in gray robes entered, moving with measured steps.
Elder Su. The sect's quietest, and most dangerous man.
"Jiang Yunxian," he began, voice mild, "you've caused a storm that even Heaven felt. The Sect Master wants your explanation written. Carefully."
Yunxian didn't open his eyes.
"And if I say Heaven deserved it?"
The elder smiled faintly.
"Then I'll assume you've gone mad — and that your execution will be quick."
Yunxian's gaze lifted, sharp as a drawn blade.
"Madness is just what Heaven calls memory."
A strange silence filled the room. Elder Su's hand hovered near the jade ring on his finger — a storage ring that likely held enough talismans to erase this entire pavilion. But instead of striking, he stepped closer.
> "Tell me, boy. When the Eye shattered… did you see something?"
Yunxian's fingers twitched. He remembered it — the light, the laughter, the war that felt like his own dream yet wasn't.
> "I saw a throne burning," he said. "And a man who looked like me standing on its ashes."
Elder Su's calm expression faltered for the first time.
> "You shouldn't remember that name… or that life."
Yunxian leaned forward.
> "Then tell me whose it was."
The elder didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his sleeve and tossed something onto the table — a single golden fragment, faintly pulsing. It shimmered with the same light that bled from Yunxian's eyes when he'd destroyed Heaven's Eye.
"Keep that hidden," Su said softly. "Others will come for it — some from the Upper Realm, others from below. If you value your life, forget what you saw."
"And if I don't?"
"Then Heaven won't be the only thing hunting you."
As the elder turned to leave, Yunxian spoke again — quietly, but with the weight of thunder behind it.
"I won't hide. Not from Heaven. Not from the truth."
Elder Su paused at the doorway, his robes whispering against the cold wind.
"Then may the Heavens pity you, Jiang Yunxian… or fear you once more."
When he was gone, Yunxian picked up the golden fragment. The moment his fingers touched it, light coursed through his veins. Visions flooded him — a battlefield of gods, a thousand immortals kneeling, and his own voice echoing:
Even Heaven must answer to carelessness.
The light dimmed. The mountain wind howled outside.
And Jiang Yunxian opened his eyes, now burning faintly with celestial gold.
The Careless Immortal… was beginning to remember.