The wind finally moved.
Not like a natural breeze—but like the world had been granted permission to breathe again.
Shan Wei stood at the ridge's edge, branded forearm hidden beneath his sleeve, eyes fixed on the pale sky as if he could still feel the Tribunal's gaze lingering in the clouds.
Behind him, Xueya wiped the blood from her nose with the back of her hand—angry at her own weakness, angrier at the heavens for daring to force it out of her.
Drakonix's flames were quiet, contained, dangerous—his wings folded tight like a predator choosing patience over chaos.
Jin Wei stood like a cracked golden statue, new runes pulsing steadily along his Runic Heart-Plate, but the absence in his core left an invisible hollowness in the air around him—an emptiness only loyalty could fill.
The Empress hovered near the rear, staring at the horizon as if expecting it to split.
Then it came again.
A bell.
Not a sound that traveled through air—a sound that traveled through time.
Doooom…
The note pressed down on their bones, slow and heavy, like a mountain being lowered onto the world.
Xueya's pupils tightened.
"That bell isn't announcing an arrival… it's measuring us."
Drakonix's tail flicked, bristling.
"I hate time monks."
Shan Wei didn't move.
But his internal monologue sharpened like a blade.
Silent Bell Monastery.Keepers of Time & Fate Laws.They don't intervene without a reason… unless the reason is me.
The air in front of them rippled—subtle, like heat shimmer on stone—then folded inward like a curtain being drawn aside.
A figure stepped out.
A monk.
He wore no armor, no weapon that screamed threat.
Just a plain robe of ash-white cloth, a sash of dull silver, and a small bell hanging from his wrist—silent, yet oppressive.
His face was calm. Gentle. Almost kind.
That kindness made the danger worse.
He bowed with quiet respect.
"Peace upon you."
No one answered.
Because the moment he arrived, the world felt… late.
As if they'd all missed something by one breath.
The monk's eyes lifted to Shan Wei—settling on him with a precision that felt like a finger pressing against a hidden wound.
"祁山威," he said softly.
Shan Wei didn't flinch at the name.
But the monk continued, voice still warm:
"…No."
A pause—so brief it could've been imagined.
Then:
"Returning Prismatic One."
The Empress nearly collapsed.
Xueya's grip tightened on her sword.
Drakonix's pupils narrowed, low growl vibrating in his throat.
Shan Wei's sleeve shifted—the heavenly brand pulsed hot, like it recognized the words.
Shan Wei's voice stayed level.
"Who are you?"
The monk smiled faintly, as if asked something he'd answered a thousand times across a thousand lifetimes.
"I am a Listener. A keeper of echoes."
He raised his wrist slightly. The bell did not ring—yet Shan Wei's soul heard the lingering resonance anyway.
"I have not come to kill you."
Drakonix hissed.
"Then go away."
The monk glanced at Drakonix with mild amusement.
"Ah. The child of Dragon and Phoenix… still proud."
Drakonix's wings twitched.
"I'm not a child."
The monk's smile widened by a hair.
"You are."
Shan Wei stepped forward half a pace, subtly placing himself between the monk and his companions.
"State your purpose."
The monk's gaze drifted, briefly, toward the horizon where the heavenly scout had shattered.
"Someone spoke the Witness Word."
He looked back to Shan Wei.
"The heavens blinked."
His tone remained polite—yet the weight behind it was absolute.
"And when the heavens blink… they send hands."
Xueya's voice was ice.
"The Tribunal."
The monk nodded.
"They are already walking."
A chill ran through Shan Wei's spine—not fear, not panic—calculation.
Six days left.Unless… time can be rewritten.
Shan Wei asked the question that mattered.
"Did you come to stop them?"
The monk's expression softened into something almost sad.
"I came to see whether you deserve to be stopped."
1. A Time-Law Technique Freezes the World for One Breath
Shan Wei's eyes narrowed.
"That's not an answer."
The monk lifted his hand gently.
"I will be brief."
The bell on his wrist chimed once—so soft it barely existed.
Yet the world snapped.
—Still.
Xueya's sword aura froze mid-spark.
Drakonix's flame flicker locked in place like paint suspended in air.
A drifting grain of dust stopped halfway down.
Even the Empress's trembling breath paused at the edge of her lips.
Shan Wei felt it most violently.
It wasn't a binding formation.
It was a law.
A law that said:
For one breath, time does not move.
Only Shan Wei's thoughts remained.
Because the brand burned.
Because paradox resisted.
Because he was "Returning."
He turned his head slowly—able to move when others couldn't.
He saw the monk standing calmly in the frozen world, eyes steady.
"You can move," Shan Wei said, voice low.
The monk nodded.
"So can you."
Shan Wei's gaze sharpened.
"Why?"
The monk's smile was almost gentle.
"Because your existence does not align with the current flow."
Then the monk's eyes shifted—just slightly—to the left of Shan Wei.
And Shan Wei felt it.
A presence.
A knife hidden in the stillness.
His instincts screamed.
And then time released.
—GO.
The frozen world snapped back into motion.
Xueya inhaled sharply. Drakonix's flames surged. Jin Wei's runes brightened.
And a blade appeared from nowhere—aimed not at Shan Wei's throat… but at his sleeve.
At the brand.
A Thousand Masks assassin had used the time-freeze to position the strike.
Shan Wei moved instantly.
Heavenstep Flash.
Seven micro-directions—one real.
The dagger missed flesh by a hair, slicing cloth and exposing the heavenly brand for a fraction of a second.
The assassin's mask was different from the first—black lacquer with silver edges, expressionless and elegant.
Their voice purred.
"Beautiful mark."
Drakonix's tail snapped like a whip.
Xueya's sword slashed in a frost arc.
The assassin blurred backward, laughing softly.
"A frost moon. A prismatic beast. A divine puppet. A branded paradox."
They tilted their head.
"Your value is… rising."
A second assassin appeared behind Xueya—a third behind the Empress—a fourth above, dropping like a silent star.
Four.
A team.
Not to kill.
To harvest.
The monk watched, hands folded, calm as a statue.
He didn't intervene.
That meant one thing:
This was a test.
Shan Wei's voice cut through the chaos like a commander's blade.
"Xueya—protect the Empress. Jin Wei—shield line. Drakonix—no roar, burn their exits."
Drakonix bristled.
"I can't burn politely anymore."
Shan Wei's eyes flicked to him.
"Then burn efficiently."
Drakonix's expression turned savage.
"…Yes."
2. Thousand Masks Escalates: A Second Team, A Smarter Strike
The assassin above dropped a chain of black silk threads—each thread shimmering with faint karmic hooks.
They weren't physical.
They were fate-anchors.
Xueya's Lunar Frost Domain expanded, freezing the hooks mid-formation.
But the second assassin—behind her—did something clever.
They didn't attack her body.
They attacked her domain's edge, stabbing a dagger into the boundary line where her frost met the air—trying to puncture her control.
Xueya's eyes flashed.
She pivoted, blade humming.
"Trying to collapse my moon?"
The assassin's voice stayed playful.
"Trying to see how long you can hold it while protecting him."
Xueya's jaw tightened.
They were exploiting her love.
Shan Wei saw it instantly.
He shifted.
He didn't throw a flashy attack.
He traced three glyphs in the air with prismatic light—fast, precise, invisible to the untrained eye.
PRISMATIC GLYPH: ANCHORPRISMATIC GLYPH: MIRRORPRISMATIC GLYPH: REBOUND
A micro-formation blossomed beneath Xueya's feet.
Her domain steadied—its edge reinforcing itself like living ice.
Xueya's eyes widened slightly.
"You reinforced my domain… without breaking my flow."
Shan Wei's voice was calm.
"Don't let them weaponize your care."
Then he turned to the assassin threatening the Empress.
The Empress raised both hands, trying to summon court techniques—shaky, imperfect.
"I— I can fight—"
Shan Wei's gaze softened for one heartbeat.
"Not today."
He stepped in front of her.
The assassin lunged, dagger flickering for the brand again.
Shan Wei raised two fingers.
Fate Severance.
The line snapped through the air—not toward the assassin's body—
but toward the assassin's escape route.
The shadow behind the assassin cracked.
The assassin froze for a fraction of a second.
Confusion.
"I— I can't—"
Drakonix surged in, Monarch Flame pouring out in a silent wave, burning the assassin's foothold in reality.
The assassin screamed as their shadow-body peeled away, forced into the open.
Xueya's sword flashed once.
Clean.
Cold.
Non-lethal—yet absolute.
The assassin collapsed, arm frozen solid, dagger clattering.
Shan Wei didn't kill them.
He leaned down, voice quiet.
"Who hired you?"
The assassin's mask trembled.
"Everyone," they whispered.
Shan Wei's eyes hardened.
"Names."
The assassin's lips curled beneath the mask.
"Thousand Masks doesn't reveal clients…"
Shan Wei's palm hovered near the mask—prismatic flame condensed like a judge's seal.
The assassin swallowed.
"…But I can tell you the rumor."
Shan Wei waited.
The assassin's voice dropped to a whisper:
"They say the Tribunal isn't the first to hunt you."
Shan Wei's blood cooled.
"They say the Silent Bell Monastery requested your brand to be recorded."
Shan Wei's gaze flicked to the monk.
The monk's expression didn't change.
But Shan Wei felt something shift—
a quiet, invisible tension tightening around the monk's calm smile.
3. Jin Wei's Heart-Plate Evolves Mid-Crisis
Jin Wei took a step forward.
A second assassin darted for Shan Wei's exposed sleeve—fast, expert, precise.
Jin Wei moved like a fortress learning speed.
His runes flared.
RUNIC HEART-PLATE: AUTO-DEFENSE MODE—UNLOCKED.
A golden barrier erupted from his chest and snapped outward like a shield wing—intercepting the assassin mid-lunge.
The assassin slammed into the barrier and bounced back, shocked.
Jin Wei's arm split open.
Not a cannon this time.
A rune-engraved blade unfolded—arm-blade style, shimmering with formation lines.
Phase 1 traits manifesting early.
Jin Wei's voice boomed:
"THREAT TO MASTER: DENIED."
He moved.
One step.
One slash.
Not lethal—precise.
He severed the assassin's weapon-hand tendons with a single controlled cut, then slammed them into the earth with a formation-backed punch.
The ground cracked.
The assassin coughed, mask splitting.
Shan Wei felt a surge of pride—immediately followed by cold worry.
Jin Wei's core flickered.
The auto-defense mode had cost energy.
Too much.
Shan Wei's voice sharpened.
"Jin Wei—fall back!"
Jin Wei didn't retreat.
He turned his mask-like face to Shan Wei.
"MASTER… PROTECTION PRIORITY OVERRIDES DAMAGE RISK."
Shan Wei's jaw tightened.
"Don't make me order you twice."
Jin Wei paused.
Then, slowly, he stepped back into position.
Not submissive.
Loyal.
Xueya's eyes softened briefly.
"He listens to you like… like a king's guardian."
Shan Wei didn't respond.
Because the monk was watching.
And the monk's gaze had shifted fully now—not to the assassins—
to Shan Wei's leadership.
To his choices.
To his restraint.
To his refusal to become a monster even when hunted.
4. Drakonix Chooses a Bloodline Trial—On Purpose
The remaining assassins retreated like smoke, slipping into shadows and distance—leaving behind only laughter and promises.
"Sunset," one whispered from nowhere. "Bounty rises."
Drakonix snarled, flames trembling.
"They'll keep coming. Again and again. They want my bloodline. They want your brand. They want our story as merchandise."
He turned toward Shan Wei, eyes fierce and painfully sincere.
"Brother… give me one day."
Shan Wei blinked.
"One day for what?"
Drakonix's wings spread slightly.
"My Monarch Flame is strong, but it's still messy. My bloodline still reacts to ancestral commands. That heart… that entity… it almost made me kneel."
His voice lowered, raw.
"I refuse to kneel."
Xueya's expression tightened.
"You're planning to evolve again?"
Drakonix shook his head.
"Not a full evolution. A trial."
He looked at Shan Wei.
"I'm opening my bloodline realm—Drakonix Trial Realm. Time dilation."
The Empress inhaled sharply.
"A mini-realm inside a beast's lineage… that's not normal."
Drakonix bared his teeth.
"I'm not normal."
He stepped closer to Shan Wei, lowering his head until his horns nearly touched Shan Wei's chest.
"Let me go inside. Let me fight my ancestry. Let me learn to control the Monarch Flame without losing myself."
Shan Wei's hand lifted—resting on Drakonix's head.
A quiet, affectionate gesture.
"Will it hurt?"
Drakonix huffed.
"Probably."
Shan Wei's fingers tightened.
"Then you don't go alone."
Drakonix's eyes widened.
"No—your brand—"
Shan Wei shook his head.
"I won't enter. But I'll anchor you."
He tapped Drakonix's forehead with two fingers, letting a thin thread of prismatic resonance connect them—like a leash made of trust.
"Come back," Shan Wei murmured.
Drakonix's voice softened, almost small.
"I always do."
He straightened, then glanced sideways at Xueya—jealous spark flaring even in this moment.
"And don't let her sit too close while I'm gone."
Xueya's cheeks warmed.
"You—!"
Drakonix snorted, then inhaled.
A prismatic cocoon didn't form.
Instead, a door of rainbow flame opened behind him—an oval of shimmering space.
Within it: storm-lit skies and ancient beast roars.
The Trial Realm.
Drakonix stepped into it—
and vanished.
The door sealed.
The air felt colder without him.
Xueya exhaled, quietly unsettled.
Shan Wei stared at the sealed door for half a heartbeat.
Then he turned.
Because the monk was still there.
Still calm.
Still observing.
Still smiling faintly.
5. The Monk's Judgment
The Silent Bell monk walked closer—not threatening, not hurried.
Just… inevitable.
He stopped a few paces away and bowed again, politely.
"You did not slaughter them."
Shan Wei's eyes were steady.
"I could have."
The monk nodded.
"You chose restraint."
Shan Wei's gaze sharpened.
"Is that what you wanted to see?"
The monk's smile faded into something more solemn.
"I wanted to see whether you would become the Red Emperor's shadow… or remain yourself."
Xueya stepped forward, frost swirling.
"And what did you decide?"
The monk looked at Xueya, then at Jin Wei, then at Shan Wei's sleeve where the brand pulsed.
His voice lowered.
"I decided… you are dangerous in a different way."
Shan Wei's expression didn't change.
"Explain."
The monk's eyes held a quiet gravity.
"Power is simple. The Tribunal knows how to erase power."
He lifted his wrist slightly—and the bell chimed once, barely audible.
"But leadership… changes outcomes. It changes loyalties. It changes fate-lines."
He looked directly at Shan Wei.
"And fate-lines are what the heavens fear most."
The Empress whispered, voice trembling:
"So you came… to confirm he will change fate."
The monk nodded.
"Yes."
Shan Wei's fingers curled slightly.
"Then you'll report me."
The monk's smile returned—sad, apologetic.
"I already did."
Xueya's sword snapped up.
Jin Wei's runes flared.
Shan Wei's aura tightened.
But the monk didn't attack.
He simply said one sentence.
A sentence spoken softly, politely—like a teacher correcting a student.
"The Tribunal countdown was never seven days."
Shan Wei's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
The monk looked past Shan Wei—toward the vault, toward the sky, toward the invisible measure of time.
"Seven was what you were allowed to believe."
Then he turned his gaze back to Shan Wei.
"And belief is a form of time."
Shan Wei's brand flared in agony.
The rune on the vault—visible across the land—pulsed violently.
TRIBUNAL COUNTDOWN: 6
It flickered.
Shuddered.
Then changed.
Not down by one.
Not down by time's normal flow.
It flipped—like a verdict rewritten.
TRIBUNAL COUNTDOWN: 0
The world went silent.
Xueya's face drained of color.
The Empress fell to her knees.
Jin Wei's voice boomed, suddenly urgent:
"ALERT—ALERT—HEAVENLY DESCENT IMMINENT—"
Shan Wei stared at the glowing zero, heartbeat steady—but eyes sharpening like a blade being drawn.
The monk bowed once more, deeply.
"I am sorry," he whispered. "Now you will see the truth."
Shan Wei's voice was calm—almost gentle.
"Which truth?"
The monk lifted his eyes.
"That the heavens do not wait for you to be ready."
The sky above them cracked.
A pale-gold seam split open like a divine wound.
And from within—
something began to descend.
Not one presence.
Not two.
Many.
Shan Wei's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
"Good."
He rolled his sleeve up fully, exposing the heavenly brand as it blazed like a sun.
"If they won't wait…"
His golden eyes locked on the descending light.
"…then we fight now."
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.