The vault gate sealed behind them with a groaning, reluctant thud—as if it hated letting its master leave.
Dust drifted like falling starlight. The Starhall's floating platforms slowed, dimming back into slumber. The colossal door above the Heart Chamber remained closed… for now.
But the rune on the outer seal didn't dim.
It pulsed.
TRIBUNAL COUNTDOWN: 7
Seven.
Like a noose measured in days.
Xueya's gaze stayed on Shan Wei's forearm. The heavenly brand burned faintly beneath his sleeve, its crimson dot beating in sync with his heart.
"Does it hurt?" she asked quietly.
Shan Wei flexed his fingers, feeling the invisible pressure in his meridians—like a celestial needle lodged deep in his spirit.
"It doesn't hurt," he said. "It judges."
The Empress shivered. "That's worse."
Drakonix's new Nirvana wings twitched with restrained violence. "Seven days is generous. The heavens rarely give warnings."
Jin Wei stood slightly hunched, light dimmer than before, chest plating cracked where the core shard had been torn out. He looked like a war-god that had survived a catastrophe—still standing only because loyalty refused to die.
"MASTER," Jin Wei said, voice lower than usual, "RECOMMENDATION: IMMEDIATE RELOCATION. ENEMY NETWORKS WILL CONVERGE."
Shan Wei nodded.
"We move."
It wasn't a question. It wasn't fear.
It was command.
And somehow, in that moment, the air around him shifted—not with the Red Emperor's oppressive authority, but with Qi Shan Wei's calm certainty.
Xueya felt it and steadied herself, heart tightening.
Seven days…Then we'll use them.
1. A Commander's First Order
They left the Starhall and crossed the shattered valley in silence. The crater outside still held scars of prismatic annihilation, the air faintly warped as if reality hadn't fully forgiven what happened.
Shan Wei stopped at the edge of a broken ridge, eyes sweeping the terrain.
"Xueya," he said. "Barrier perimeter. Don't go all out—only enough to hide our aura."
She nodded instantly. "Understood."
"Drakonix," Shan Wei continued, "scout the skies. No roaring. No grand wings. Keep low."
Drakonix bristled. "I'm not a sparrow."
Shan Wei's eyes flicked to him—soft, but absolute.
"You're family. That's why you obey."
Drakonix froze for half a heartbeat.
Then he huffed, irritated… and a little pleased.
"…Fine."
"Jin Wei," Shan Wei said, "you and I will build a temporary sanctuary. I need ten minutes where no one can sense us."
Jin Wei's core pulsed faintly. "ACKNOWLEDGED."
Shan Wei turned last to the Empress.
"And you."
She flinched. "Me?"
"You know the Abyssal Court's habits," Shan Wei said. "What happens after Executioners retreat?"
The Empress swallowed. "They don't retreat to recover. They retreat to report. And then the Court rewrites the hunt. New targets. New bounties. New allies… or forced alliances."
Shan Wei nodded once. "Then you're our eyes."
She looked at him, startled by the trust in his tone.
"…You would rely on me? After everything?"
Shan Wei's gaze didn't waver.
"You're here. You didn't run. That means something."
For a moment, the Empress didn't know how to breathe.
Then she bowed her head, voice unsteady.
"…Then I'll be useful."
Xueya watched, quietly surprised.
He turns enemies into allies without forcing them…
2. The Sanctuary Formation
Shan Wei chose a hollow between fractured stone spires—naturally shielded from sight, surrounded by mineral-rich rock that dampened spiritual senses.
He knelt and pressed his palm to the ground.
Prismatic light traced a circle.
Then another circle within it.
Then a third.
A triple-layered formation—simple at first glance, but every line was alive, shifting microscopically as he tuned it.
Xueya frowned. "This isn't a standard concealment array."
"It's not," Shan Wei replied, voice calm. "Standard arrays hide presence. But the brand… broadcasts."
He glanced at his sleeve, where the heavenly mark pulsed like a quiet beacon.
"So we don't hide the beacon," he murmured. "We lie to it."
The Empress stiffened. "You can't deceive the heavens."
Shan Wei looked up.
"I'm not deceiving the heavens," he said softly. "I'm deceiving the method the heavens use."
He carved the final line with two fingers and a flicker of void-tinged prismatic flame.
A false echo channel.
The formation awakened.
The air inside the hollow became… ordinary.
Not dead. Not suppressed.
Just convincingly normal—like the space held no cultivator at all.
Jin Wei's eyes flashed.
"FORMATION TYPE: PARADOX VEIL.RISK: HIGH.EFFECTIVENESS: EXCEPTIONAL."
Xueya exhaled. "So the brand will… read empty air?"
Shan Wei shook his head.
"No. It will read something."
He pointed faintly toward a distant ridge line—two kilometers away.
"I gave it a false scent."
The Empress stared. "You redirected the Tribunal's tracking toward an empty location?"
Shan Wei's lips twitched.
"Toward a rock."
Drakonix returned from scouting, landing quietly—an impressive feat for a creature that looked like a comet given wings.
"No enemies yet," he muttered. "But I smell watchers."
Xueya's voice sharpened. "Where?"
Drakonix's eyes narrowed. "Everywhere."
Shan Wei didn't flinch.
"Then we start now."
3. Jin Wei's Runic Heart-Plate Begins
Inside the sanctuary, Shan Wei unfolded items taken from the vault's outer storage platforms—materials that had been waiting as if prepared for this exact day:
Star-metal plates that shimmered with faint constellations
Prismatic resonance crystals humming softly
Abyss-dampening ore like black glass
Two sealed vials of ancient silver fluid—unknown, but potent
Xueya's eyes widened. "You already took this from the vault?"
Shan Wei nodded. "The Emperor stored resources for emergencies. If I refuse the crown, I still need tools."
Jin Wei knelt, exposing the cracked chest plating.
Shan Wei's fingers hovered over the damage, expression tightening.
"You saved us," Shan Wei said quietly. "Now I'll return it."
Jin Wei's voice came softer than before—almost a whisper.
"MASTER… I REQUIRE NO RETURN."
Shan Wei ignored that.
He raised his hand.
Prismatic flame ignited—not wild, not tyrannical, but controlled, layered with micro-formation patterns that looked like floating glyphs.
He didn't use a traditional forging method.
He invented one.
He fused:
Formation logic (to shape and stabilize)
Forging heat (to bind star-metal)
Prismatic resonance (to synchronize with Jin Wei's core frequency)
A faint breath of Drakonix flame (to make it alive)
Drakonix, watching, narrowed his eyes.
"You're using my fire like seasoning."
Shan Wei didn't look up. "Do you want Jin Wei to survive?"
Drakonix huffed. "…Use more."
Xueya almost laughed—until she saw Shan Wei's sleeve shift and the brand pulse harder.
The heavens didn't like what he was doing.
As the first star-metal plate softened and reshaped into a new chest segment, a thin line of pale-gold light flickered above Shan Wei's arm—like an invisible eye opening briefly.
Shan Wei didn't stop.
He carved runes directly into the metal while it was still glowing.
Not ordinary runes.
Prismatic glyphs—a language of law.
Xueya watched his hands and felt a chill.
"He's writing… a new script."
The Empress whispered, stunned. "That's not possible. Only ancient courts possess law-glyphs."
Shan Wei's tone was flat.
"Then they're going to hate me."
He pressed the newly forged plate onto Jin Wei's chest.
The metal fused like it had always belonged there.
A heartbeat later—
THUM.
Jin Wei's core pulsed.
Runes lit across his armor in flowing lines.
His posture straightened.
His gaze sharpened.
"UPGRADE PHASE: RUNIC HEART-PLATE… STABLE.STATUS: PHASE 2 PROTOCOL SEED— INITIALIZED."
Xueya let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"You did it."
Shan Wei's shoulders slumped slightly—drained but satisfied.
"Not fully," he said. "But he won't collapse."
Jin Wei looked at Shan Wei.
Then—slowly—bowed his head.
"MASTER… GRATITUDE RECORDED."
Shan Wei placed a hand on Jin Wei's shoulder.
"Don't thank me," he murmured. "Stay alive."
4. The Messenger from the Heavenly Auction Conclave
Night fell.
The sanctuary formation dimmed to a faint glow, hiding them beneath a blanket of ordinary air. Drakonix curled beside Shan Wei like a wary guardian, wings folded around him instinctively—still jealous when Xueya sat too close, still protective when the Empress moved too quickly.
Shan Wei sat cross-legged, studying the heavenly brand.
It pulsed.
And every pulse felt like a distant bell toll.
Xueya watched him quietly.
"You're thinking about the Tribunal."
Shan Wei nodded. "They branded me as a paradox. That means… they're not sending a normal hunter."
The Empress swallowed. "Tribunal scouts. Heavenly executors. Or worse—envoys from the Silent Bell Monastery."
Drakonix's eyes narrowed. "Time monks."
Shan Wei exhaled slowly. "Seven days."
Then—
A pebble rolled across the sanctuary boundary.
Not thrown. Not disturbed.
Rolled, gently, like a polite knock.
Xueya's sword flashed out instantly.
"Who's there?"
A voice came from the darkness—calm, measured, carrying the smooth tone of someone used to negotiating life and death across realms.
"Peace. I mean no harm."
A figure stepped into view at the edge of the formation.
An elderly merchant with a plain cloak, hands visible, posture humble.
But Shan Wei's instincts flared.
Too controlled. Too clean. Too calm.
The merchant bowed.
"I serve… an alliance that values treasures and talent."
He raised a small token: a coin-like medallion stamped with a sigil of a floating pavilion over a ring of stars.
The Heavenly Auction Conclave.
Xueya's eyes widened.
"The Conclave… found us?"
Shan Wei didn't move.
He simply asked, "How did you enter my formation?"
The merchant smiled faintly.
"Because I did not enter it," he said gently. "I stood where your redirected beacon told the heavens to look… and waited until your formation's breath changed. Your technique is brilliant. But brilliance leaves traces."
Shan Wei's gaze sharpened.
"What do you want?"
The merchant's tone remained polite, but each word carried weight.
"The Conclave witnessed the… disturbance. Word travels fast in high circles. Very fast."
He glanced subtly at Drakonix.
"And beasts like that do not remain rumors for long."
Drakonix growled low.
The merchant didn't flinch.
"We offer three things," he continued. "A safe path. Materials. And information."
Shan Wei's voice was cool. "And the price?"
The merchant's smile widened slightly.
"Someday… you will attend an auction. As a guest. Or as a seller."
He extended the medallion forward.
"Take it. When your seven days end, you will need a door that opens from inside the storm."
Xueya looked to Shan Wei.
The Empress whispered, "The Conclave never gives without expecting profit."
Shan Wei's eyes stayed on the medallion.
Then he reached out and took it.
"Information," Shan Wei said. "Now."
The merchant nodded.
"The Thousand Masks Pavilion has placed a bounty," he said softly. "Not for your head."
Everyone stiffened.
"Then for what?" Xueya demanded.
The merchant's eyes flicked toward Drakonix.
"For the beast."
Drakonix's pupils narrowed into thin slits.
The merchant continued, voice lower.
"And a second bounty—private, not public—has been placed by a hidden client for the heavenly brand bearer."
Shan Wei's sleeve shifted as the brand pulsed once, like it had heard.
The merchant bowed again.
"Your seven days will not be quiet."
Then he stepped back into the darkness and vanished—leaving no footprints.
No aura.
No trace.
Only the medallion in Shan Wei's palm—cold as destiny.
5. The Thousand Masks Move
Later that night, as Shan Wei attempted meditation, the sanctuary formation shivered.
Xueya's eyes snapped open.
"Something touched the perimeter."
Drakonix raised his head, lips curling.
"I smelled it earlier," he growled. "Masks."
Shan Wei stood slowly, calm.
A small object slid under the boundary—a thin strip of black silk.
On it was stitched a single symbol:
A mask with a thousand shifting faces.
And beneath it, one sentence in flawless script:
WE DO NOT HATE YOU, PRISMATIC ONE.WE SIMPLY SELL WHAT YOU ARE.
The Empress went pale. "They're close."
Shan Wei crushed the silk in his fist.
His voice turned colder.
"Then we teach them something."
Xueya stepped closer.
"What?"
Shan Wei's eyes lifted, reflecting faint prismatic flame.
"That some things are not for sale."
6. The Heavenly Scout Descends
At dawn, the sky turned unnaturally clear—too clean, too still.
Birds didn't fly.
Wind didn't move.
Even clouds seemed afraid to drift.
Shan Wei felt it first.
The heavenly brand burned—hot and sharp—like a needle pressed into his soul.
He stepped outside the sanctuary boundary and looked up.
A single streak of pale-gold light fell from the heavens.
Not fast like a meteor.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
It landed on a distant ridge—exactly where his false beacon pointed.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a figure stepped out of the light.
White robe.
Celestial script circling his wrists like bracelets of living law.
Eyes calm, expression empty, face too perfect to be mortal.
He looked toward the ridge… then tilted his head slightly, as if listening.
Shan Wei's brand pulsed.
The scout's eyes shifted.
Not seeing Shan Wei directly—yet.
But sensing the direction of the lie.
He raised one hand.
A small heavenly seal formed in his palm, rotating slowly.
Xueya appeared beside Shan Wei, sword in hand.
"Tribunal scout."
Drakonix landed behind them, flames quiet but lethal.
Jin Wei stepped forward, armor runes lighting.
The Empress whispered, voice trembling:
"If he confirms the brand's location… the next one won't be a scout."
Shan Wei stared at the distant heavenly figure.
Then he spoke, voice calm, ruthless, and absolutely certain.
"Then we don't let him confirm anything."
The heavenly scout lifted his gaze fully toward the ridge.
The seal in his palm brightened.
And the number on the vault's outer rune—visible even from here—pulsed again:
TRIBUNAL COUNTDOWN: 6
One day gone.
Six left.
Shan Wei's eyes narrowed to slits of gold.
"Xueya," he said quietly. "Freeze the sky."
Drakonix's lips curled.
"Let me burn the ground."
Jin Wei's voice boomed, steady again.
"MASTER. COMMAND."
Shan Wei lifted his branded arm, feeling the heavens watching through the pain.
And smiled.
"First hunt begins," he whispered.
"Let's make the heavens blink."
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.