The next morning in Moonlight Town dawned quietly, but beneath the town's surface, the storm Xu Ming had summoned was already churning.
In the Silver Lantern Hall's topmost room, Xu Ming sat cross-legged on the floor. A faint white mist coiled around his body—Qi slowly weaving through his meridians. The aftershocks of the Trial of the Abyssal Path still echoed in his sea of consciousness. The pain, the voices, the doubt… all burned away beneath a singular truth:
He had endured.
And something inside him had changed.
He opened his eyes. The world around him appeared sharper—no, clearer. The faintest fluctuations in Qi, the movement of air behind walls, the pulsing of formations under the inn's floorboards—they were there. Not seen, but perceived. His awakened Heaven-Shattering Sight, still in its early stage, was stirring again.
There was a knock.
"Still alive in there, hero?" Lin Feng's familiar voice drawled. "Or have the ghosts of that trial dragged you under?"
Xu Ming stood, grabbing his cloak and sword. "Alive. And stronger."
As he opened the door, Lin Feng gave him a half-smile. "Well, the town's not. You've caused chaos, you know. Half the young cultivators are either terrified of you, want to fight you, or want to be you."
Xu Ming stepped into the hallway, adjusting the strap across his shoulder. "Let them try."
---
The main street of Moonlight Town had transformed overnight. Banners hung across buildings, adorned with the sigils of the Four Great Sects. Stalls buzzed with business, and cultivators from faraway provinces had flooded the town, their presence cloaked in proud arrogance and rich spiritual pressure.
At the center of it all was the raised dueling platform in the Moonlight Plaza. The preliminary rounds of the tournament were beginning.
But even among the noise, one name passed from whisper to whisper:
Xu Ming.
"Is it true? He passed the Trial of the Abyssal Path?"
"They say even sect elders are talking about him now..."
"Keep your voice down. Liang Fei's looking for him."
Indeed, not far from the plaza, Liang Fei—first son of the Liang Clan , tall and broad-shouldered, thunder Qi crackling faintly around him—stood with his arms crossed, his eyes like twin storms.
Beside him stood Rong Yixuan from the Rong Clan, her blue-white robes trailing frost as she stared silently toward the crowd. She said nothing, but her presence alone parted the crowd like an invisible blade.
From a shaded corner, Qin Mo of the Qin Clan smirked behind his folding fan. "So the ghost from the slums finally makes his debut. This will be fun."
---
Back at the inn, Lin Feng pulled Xu Ming aside near the courtyard. "Word is, the sect elders have their eyes on the final rounds. Win big, and you might get a personal invitation."
Xu Ming shook his head. "I don't care about invitations."
Lin Feng raised a brow. "Then why fight?"
Xu Ming looked down at his palm—at the faint pulsing runes now appearing when he focused Qi into his skin.
"For answers. For the strength to find who I really am. And for revenge."
Lin Feng nodded slowly. "Well, you'll get your chance. Your name's already been added to the first round. You're fighting in two days."
A pause.
"And… someone else left a message for you this morning."
He handed Xu Ming a slip of paper. It bore only a single sentence:
"Come to the Whispering Ravine at midnight. Come alone. - B."
Xu Ming studied the note for a moment, then folded it neatly and tucked it away.
"Are you going?" Lin Feng asked.
Xu Ming's voice was calm. "Yes."
"Could be a trap."
Xu Ming's eyes gleamed. "Then I'll spring it."
---
Midnight. Whispering Ravine.
Mist coiled low over the rocks, and the wind carried voices that weren't there—legends said the ravine echoed the last thoughts of those who died within it.
Xu Ming stood at the edge, Voidcleaver sheathed on his back.
A figure emerged from the mist—tall, wrapped in deep crimson robes, face covered with a half-mask. The Qi around him was vast but restrained, like a sword sheathed in silk.
"You came," the man said. "Good. I was told you would."
"Told by who?" Xu Ming asked, his stance shifting subtly.
The man smiled behind the mask. "By the one who forged that sword you carry. Voidcleaver."
Xu Ming's heart skipped—but his voice remained even. "That sword was sold as scrap."
"Then you have already learned your first lesson," the man said, walking slowly. "Even the heavens bury truths they fear. That blade is not of this world. It was made to cut through fate itself."
Xu Ming's hand twitched at his side. "And who are you?"
"I am a shadow of the past. But you may call me… Bai."
Xu Ming froze. The old man from Royal Spirit Pavilion?
Bai chuckled softly, as if reading his mind. "That was only one of my faces. I've watched you, Xu Ming. From the moment you touched the sword, it began. But you are not ready to know the whole truth."
He stepped closer.
"But if you wish to survive what's coming—win the tournament. Reach the final duel. Only then will I give you the truth about the Eye… and your father."
Xu Ming's eyes flared.
"My father?"
But Bai was already walking back into the mist.
"Two days, Xu Ming. Prove yourself. Or die like the others."
The ravine grew silent once more.