The bell's echo rolled through the mountain like thunder trapped in stone.
Outside Lin Qing's door, footsteps multiplied—disciples whispering, charms clinking, voices half-awed and half-terrified. The pulse of qi from his room had spread through the sect like a flare shot into the sky.
Inside, he sat very still, the brazier's flame leaning toward him as if drawn by breath.
A hard knock came. "Heir Lin Qing," said a steady voice, low and formal. "Elder Hei requests your presence in the Hall of Eclipse."
Li Chun's head snapped up. "T-the Hall of Eclipse? All seven Elders meet there!"
Lin Qing exhaled. "Wonderful. I've been here one day and I'm already a tourist attraction."
He rose, adjusted the robe that still felt borrowed, and followed two armored disciples through the winding tunnels. The air grew colder as the passages opened into vaulted halls lit by crimson lanterns. Everything smelled of iron, incense, and age.
When they reached the great doors, two guards dropped to one knee and pressed their foreheads to the floor. Lin Qing blinked. Apparently, that was just how people said hello here.
The doors swung open on their own. Moonlight poured in from the cracked ceiling above, silver and red tangled together. Seven Elders waited behind a crescent table of black stone. Their robes were heavy, their gazes heavier. Elder Hei stood at the center, bone-white mask gleaming. Beside him stood Saintess Yao, serene, expression unreadable.
Every Elder inclined their head—not too deeply. Just enough to say: We fear you, but not yet.
"The Heir graces us," Elder Hei said. "The mountain trembled with your awakening. Tell us, how fares the Heavenly Insight Divine Body?"
Lin Qing's mouth was dry. "It… functions."
A few Elders traded looks, uncertain if that was praise or blasphemy.
Saintess Yao stepped forward, her voice soft as falling petals. "The sect has waited generations for your return, Heir Lin Qing. Will you share a glimpse of the Blood Moon's favor, that all may witness it with their own eyes?"
Elder Hei inclined his head. "A miracle will suffice."
Of course. Just casually perform a miracle.
Lin Qing walked to the center of the chamber. The floor beneath him was etched with ancient lines—an array humming faintly under his feet. His eyes flickered silver as the Heavenly Insight Divine Body activated on instinct, mapping the pattern in seconds.
[Comprehension Rate: 0% → 62% → 100%]
He inhaled slowly. The array answered, a low thrum rising from the stone. Crimson light bled up through the carvings, swirling in the air like sparks caught in wind. The Elders straightened as the dormant formation came alive, the entire hall bathed in a pulse of living moonlight.
When the glow reached its peak, Lin Qing exhaled and let go. The light faded back into the floor, leaving only a faint hum in the air.
"A small correction," he said evenly. "The formation's rhythm was… off."
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Elder Hei dropped to one knee.
"The Heir commands even the Sect's heart. The Blood Moon smiles once more!"
The other Elders followed, robes sweeping the floor. Saintess Yao's eyes shone faintly—admiration, maybe curiosity, maybe something colder. "Truly extraordinary. The Mirror Emperor's gift lives again."
"Perhaps even surpasses it," murmured another Elder. "The records said the Mirror Emperor needed three nights to awaken the Hall."
Lin Qing smiled thinly, pretending he understood any of it.
The chant began—soft, reverent, ancient words filling the air until the walls vibrated. "All hail the Blood Moon Heir. Shadow made flesh, wisdom made form."
The sound rose and fell like waves, echoing deep into the mountain.
When the ceremony ended, Elder Hei escorted him through the echoing corridors. "The Saintess has requested your presence at the Grand Council tomorrow. She wishes the Inner Pillars to witness you personally."
"Tomorrow?" Lin Qing said. "That's fast."
"The Blood Moon waits for no man." Elder Hei bowed and vanished down another hall.
Li Chun trailed behind his master, practically glowing. "Heir Lin Qing! You woke the formation! Even the Elders could not—"
"I nudged something," Lin Qing muttered. "They built a religion around it."
They reached his quarters. Lin Qing closed the door and leaned against it, the echo of the chants still ringing in his ears. The room was silent again, but it no longer felt like refuge—more like the eye of a storm.
He sat on the straw mattress and pressed his palms together, trying to steady his thoughts. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anyone's messiah. The real "Blood Heir," if that even existed, had to be out there somewhere. Maybe the ritual had gone wrong. Maybe they'd pulled the wrong soul from wherever souls were stored.
And now he was standing in that person's shoes, surrounded by zealots who would kneel at a sneeze and slit throats at a smile.
He looked around the small chamber. Even here, every object—the brazier, the walls, the floor—was carved with faint red lines. The entire sect pulsed with power, like a single giant heart. It wasn't a temple. It was a weapon.
And they had just handed him the trigger.
The warmth of qi still lingered in his veins, calm and steady. It scared him more than the cult did. Because part of him—some quiet, reckless part—liked the feeling. The confidence. The clarity.
He looked up at the brazier, the flame bending toward him again.
"How," he whispered, "am I supposed to fake divinity long enough to survive it?"
A faint tremor passed through the air, as if the mountain itself had heard him.
Far above, the Blood Moon burned through the clouds, its red light spilling across the peaks like liquid fire. Somewhere in the night, bells tolled again—not warning, but worship.
And in the silence that followed, Lin Qing realized that the longer he pretended to be divine…the more the world might start believing him.