Chapter 4 - The Hunt Begins
In the darkness beyond the Mortal Realm, an old hatred woke before Yao Chen understood what he had awakened.
Far from Dao Realm Academy, far from the floating islands and young disciples struggling with furnaces, a black palace drifted through a region of space where ordinary stars did not shine. It was not built upon land. It did not belong to any kingdom. It hung in the void like a wound that refused to heal. Its walls were carved from dark stone older than many civilizations. Ancient chains hung from its towers, each link engraved with runes once used to bind powerful souls. Red flames burned in iron braziers along the vast halls, but their light brought no warmth. It only made the darkness look alive.
At the center of the palace stood a throne made from black crystal.
Upon that throne sat an armored figure.
His eyes were closed. His hands rested on the arms of the throne. Around him, the air was so heavy that even the kneeling shadows at the edge of the hall dared not breathe loudly. Before him floated a stone disk. For countless years, it had remained silent.
Then golden light flashed across its surface.
The armored figure opened his eyes.
Two crimson lights appeared in the dark.
Every shadow in the hall trembled.
"The signal," the armored figure said.
His voice was deep and rough, like iron dragged across stone. The stone disk trembled again. A golden point formed at its center, then turned slowly, pointing toward a distant direction.
The Mortal Realm.
The armored figure rose from the throne. As he stood, the red flames bent away from him as if afraid to touch his armor.
"The Primordial Flame has awakened."
The words spread through the hall like a death sentence.
Several shadowy figures appeared from the darkness and knelt on one knee. Their faces were hidden, their bodies wrapped in black robes marked with old runes. They did not ask how he knew. The disk had been forged for one purpose: to wait for a flame that should never return.
"My lord," one shadow said.
The armored figure stared at the disk for a long time. Hatred burned in his eyes, old enough to have survived beyond anger and become law.
"So it has returned," he said. "After so many eras."
A kneeling shadow hesitated before speaking. "My lord, could it truly be the flame of that person?"
The palace became silent.
Even the chains seemed to stop moving.
Then the armored figure spoke a title that made every shadow lower its head.
"The Medical God."
The name did not echo loudly. It did something worse. It settled into the hall, heavy and cold, as if the palace itself remembered being wounded by it. Some titles were admired. Some were feared. This one had once been both, and those who feared it had spent ages trying to erase it from every record they could reach.
The armored figure clenched his fist. "That man should have vanished in the last cosmic war. His body burned, his soul scattered, his existence erased from the knowledge of Heaven and all who served it. Yet the flame has appeared again."
"My lord," another shadow said carefully, "perhaps it is only a remnant. A successor who inherited a spark."
The armored figure turned his gaze toward him.
The shadow immediately pressed his forehead to the ground.
"A spark of that flame is enough," the armored figure said. "The Medical God was never terrifying because he could kill. Any fool with power can kill. He was terrifying because what he healed could no longer be controlled."
No one answered.
The armored figure looked again toward the disk. "He healed bodies. He healed souls. He healed broken laws. He healed what should have remained wounded enough to obey. If his successor rises, old debts may open. Old names may return. And if the one who carries the flame remembers even a fragment..."
His voice became colder.
"This era will not remain ours."
The shadows pressed lower.
"Send the Seekers," he ordered. "Enter the Mortal Realm. Find the carrier of the Primordial Flame."
"And if we find him, my lord?"
The answer came without hesitation.
"Kill him before he remembers who he truly is."
The shadows vanished one after another, dissolving into black mist. Only the armored figure remained inside the palace. He raised one hand, and the golden light on the stone disk dimmed slightly under a dark pressure.
"The Primordial Flame," he whispered. "I will not allow that power to rise again."
Back in the Mortal Realm, Dao Realm Academy slept peacefully beneath the moon.
Peace was always most convincing to those who did not know what had already begun moving toward them.
Yao Chen returned to his small wooden room after leaving the courtyard near the Alchemy Pavilion. Inside were a simple bed, a desk, a meditation mat, a shelf for manuals, and a window overlooking the floating mountains. Compared to the academy's grand halls, the room was plain. Yet after the long day, its quietness felt welcome.
He sat cross-legged on the bed and tried to cultivate.
Dao Qi flowed through his meridians. The circulation was smooth, stronger than it had been before entering the academy. Spiritual energy entered through his breath, moved through his limbs, and gathered near his dantian. At first, everything remained normal.
Then the warmth returned.
This time it did not appear above his palm.
It appeared inside his dantian.
A tiny golden spark flickered once.
Yao Chen's breathing stopped.
The spark expanded slightly, and within it a symbol appeared. It was gone almost as soon as it formed, but he saw it clearly: a burning star surrounded by countless ancient Dao patterns.
The image struck his mind with unexpected force. His meridians shook. His heartbeat slowed, then became heavy. For a breath, the room vanished.
He saw a vast furnace beneath a sky without stars. He saw rivers of golden fire flowing through broken worlds. He saw countless wounded souls kneeling before a figure whose face he could not see. He heard voices calling from a distance too deep to measure.
Medical God.
Then everything vanished.
Yao Chen opened his eyes sharply. Sweat had formed along his forehead.
"What was that?"
He had never heard that title in his life. Yet the moment it entered his mind, a strange ache filled his chest. It was not pride. It was not fear. It was grief mixed with recognition, as if something inside him had heard its own name but could not answer.
Before he could examine the feeling, a chill passed through the academy.
It was faint. Almost nothing. But Yao Chen felt it.
He turned toward the window. Outside, the night sky remained clear. The moonlight still covered the floating islands. The lantern near his door still burned. Yet for one brief instant, he felt watched.
Not by an elder.
Not by a disciple.
By something far away.
Something cold.
Yao Chen slowly stood and walked to the window. The wind brushed his silver hair against his cheek. He looked toward the stars, but saw only silence.
"Strange," he murmured.
The feeling disappeared quickly, but uneasiness remained.
Inside the deepest tower of Dao Realm Academy, the Headmaster stood before an ancient bronze bell. The bell was taller than a man, covered in cracks that looked old enough to have become part of its design. It had not rung for three hundred years.
Tonight, one crack glowed.
Elder Ming stood behind him. Elder Gu stood beside him with the sealed jade box containing Yao Chen's pill. Neither spoke at first.
The Headmaster touched the glowing crack with two fingers. His expression remained calm, but his eyes were grave. "A hostile gaze brushed the academy boundary."
Elder Ming's face tightened. "From outside the Mortal Realm?"
"Yes."
Elder Gu placed the jade box on a stone table. "The silver-haired disciple's flame awakened today. I believe the two matters are connected."
The Headmaster looked at the box. "Show me."
Elder Gu opened it. The Spirit Recovery Pill rested inside, plain and unremarkable to the naked eye. The Headmaster studied it for several breaths, then released a thread of spiritual sense. His brows moved slightly.
"He left impurities on purpose."
Elder Gu nodded. "Just enough to make the pill seem average."
"Could a new disciple do this knowingly?"
"No," Elder Gu said. "A new disciple could not. That is the problem."
Elder Ming frowned. "Should we seal his flame?"
Elder Gu's eyes sharpened. "Seal a disciple because he is gifted?"
"Gifted disciples do not usually attract gazes from beyond the Mortal Realm."
The Headmaster closed the jade box. "Do nothing openly. If we move too soon, we may confirm what the enemy suspects. Place a quiet protection formation near his residence. Do not let the disciples know."
Elder Ming bowed. Elder Gu hesitated.
"And Yao Chen himself?" Elder Gu asked.
The Headmaster looked toward the window, beyond which the floating islands slept. "For now, let him remain a disciple. A young man who has not yet understood himself should not be treated as a weapon by those who claim to protect him."
High above Dao Realm Academy, far beyond the clouds, two figures stood where mortal eyes could not reach. One gazed down with calm eyes, as if reality itself had taken a human shape and chosen silence. Beside him stood a woman whose presence seemed too gentle for the word power and too vast for the word divine. Moonlight passed through them, yet did not touch them.
Both had seen the flame awaken.
"The Primordial Flame has begun to stir," the calm figure said.
The woman nodded. "The boy has taken another step."
"Too early."
"Awakening rarely asks permission."
A faint smile touched his lips, though it did not reach his eyes. "Once the flame appears, those who fear it will come."
"They have already begun moving."
Below them, Yao Chen stood at his window, unaware that beings beyond his understanding watched over him. His face was calm, but his soul was unsettled. The flame inside him had not fully awakened, yet its light had already crossed boundaries it should not have reached.
"If we interfere now," the calm figure said, "the path may bend too much."
"And if we do not interfere, he may die before he remembers," the woman replied.
"He chose to walk the path."
"He chose to understand. Not to be hunted by old hatred before he can even name his own flame."
Silence stretched between them.
Then the calm figure looked toward the distant void. "Others will move before us."
The woman's gaze softened. "He is still loved by those he does not remember."
At the far edge of the Mortal Realm, space tore open without sound.
A crack appeared between two dead stars. From within stepped several figures in long black robes marked with ancient runes. Their faces were hidden behind dark masks, and their bodies carried a cold aura that did not belong to the Mortal Realm. The laws of the world pressed against them the moment they entered, forcing their cultivation to compress.
Their leader lifted a compass-like artifact made from black bone and silver glass.
At its center, a golden needle spun wildly. After several breaths, it stopped and pointed in one direction.
Dao Realm Academy.
"The flame is within this world," the leader said.
One of the Seekers looked toward the distant lands below. "The Mortal Realm's laws are suppressing us."
"Then hide your aura."
"If academy elders interfere?"
"Do not fight unless necessary. Confirm the carrier first."
"And after confirmation?"
The leader closed his hand around the compass.
"Eliminate him."
The figures dissolved into the night, scattering across the Mortal Realm like drops of ink falling into water. They left no footprints, no spiritual trace ordinary cultivators could detect, and no sound behind them.
But they were not unseen.
Far beyond the crack they had used, in a silent region of space, a giant shadow opened its eyes.
The being held an axe across one shoulder. His aura was vast, yet restrained with terrifying care. Around him, space did not tremble. It obeyed.
He looked toward the direction of the Mortal Realm.
"Already?" he murmured.
There was no anger in his voice.
Only disappointment.
Then he stepped forward, and the void folded.
Back in Dao Realm Academy, Yao Chen remained by the window for a long time. The stars above looked peaceful, but he no longer trusted that peace. He felt as if invisible forces had begun moving beyond his sight. Perhaps it was imagination. Perhaps the alchemy trial had disturbed his mind. Yet deep inside his dantian, the golden spark flickered again.
Very faintly.
Almost like it was responding to something far away.
Yao Chen looked down at his hand. The same hand that had held the strange flame. The same hand that had refined a pill too easily. The same hand that, for reasons he could not explain, felt as though it had once healed things much greater than flesh.
"Who am I really?" he whispered.
The lantern outside his room flickered.
No answer came.
Only the wind moved through the floating islands, carrying the scent of herbs, moonlit water, and distant danger.
Far beyond the academy, unknown shadows were already traveling toward him. Far above the clouds, powers older than kingdoms had turned their gaze upon the Mortal Realm. And inside Yao Chen's body, the Primordial Flame slept lightly, no longer silent enough to be forgotten.
His peaceful life at Dao Realm Academy had not ended yet.
But the world had already begun preparing to take it from him.