The crimson sky above the Root Hollow dimmed to a sullen gray as Lin Fei emerged from the shadow forest. His chest rose and fell with quiet intensity. Though he'd passed the first gate, a strange weariness clung to him—not of the body, but of the soul.
He looked down at his trial token. The first rune—Resolve—glowed softly, etched in gold. Eight runes remained dim. Eight more trials stood between him and whatever lay at the heart of the Hollow.
A wind stirred the dead leaves beneath his feet, and the air grew colder.
Ahead, the ground sloped downward into a mist-choked valley where ancient stone arches rose from tangled vines. The silence deepened. No cries. No whispers. Nothing but the rustle of shifting qi.
Another trial? he wondered. Or something else?
He advanced with caution.
As Lin Fei passed beneath one of the broken arches, a sharp pulse struck his chest—like a string being plucked in his dantian. The Heavenroot in his core pulsed once, reacting to something in the valley.
A hidden resonance.
The mist thickened as he walked, and soon, even the sky was lost. The world became fog and stone and silence. Then, a faint hum drifted through the air—soft, rhythmic, like a lullaby hummed by someone long dead.
He paused. The sound was coming from beneath the ground.
There's something buried here…
His instincts screamed to turn back.
But his feet moved forward.
Beneath the ivy-choked rocks, he found it: a stone platform carved with archaic sigils, buried in an overgrown hollow at the valley's heart. Vines curled like veins across its surface, and at the center stood a withered tree—black as pitch, leafless, lifeless, yet humming with dormant power.
As Lin Fei stepped onto the platform, the world trembled. The vines recoiled. The mist surged and then dissipated entirely, as though held at bay by the tree's presence.
Then the voice returned.
But this time, it wasn't from the Hollow.
It came from within him.
"So you've found it… the Forgotten Root."
The Heavenroot in his dantian shuddered.
"You are not the first to bear this gift… but you may be the last."
Lin Fei fell to one knee, clutching his chest. The tree pulsed with light—red, then silver, then gold. Roots emerged from the ground, coiling like serpents, brushing against his skin.
Visions exploded behind his eyes:
—A vast battlefield under a shattered sky.
—A man cloaked in stars, wielding a sword made of lightning.
—A tree, massive beyond comprehension, whose roots stretched across worlds.
Then—darkness.
And silence.
Lin Fei collapsed.
He Dreamed
He stood in a temple that floated above the clouds. Beneath him stretched rivers of qi, flowing like molten silver across the sky. He was no longer himself, but someone else—older, stronger, crowned in thunder.
A figure approached, cloaked in shadow. It bore no face, but its voice echoed like memory.
"The Heavenroot is not just a gift. It is a key. One that must remain sealed until the right bearer awakens it."
"And if the bearer fails?" Lin Fei asked—or perhaps the echo of him within the dream did.
"Then the heavens fall. Again."
The temple began to crack. Stars bled. The dream ended.
Back in the Hollow
Lin Fei awoke gasping, drenched in sweat.
The black tree was gone. In its place lay a small seed, golden and still warm to the touch.
Without hesitation, he picked it up. As his fingers closed around it, his dantian surged with power—raw, wild, ancient. A second rune lit on his token: Legacy.
He didn't understand all of it. But some fragment of that inheritance had awakened in him. He could feel it—like a memory not his own lodged deep in the marrow of his bones.
He had to keep moving.
Elsewhere in the Root Hollow
Not all disciples fared so well.
Chen Tao of Room 12, famed for his strength and fire affinity, lay unconscious beside a shattered pillar. Smoke rose from his body, veins blackened by inner qi deviation.
In another section, Lan Mei, a graceful girl with ice spiritual roots, screamed as her reflection turned against her—an internal demon made flesh.
The Root Hollow showed no mercy.
But one pair of eyes watched more closely than others.
On a floating platform above the Hollow's sky, masked sect elders stood around a massive scrying mirror.
Elder Mo's hands were clenched behind his back.
"Lin Fei has reached the third level," the hooded scryer said. "He's already received a hidden inheritance."
"Too fast," Mo muttered. "Too smooth. Something is guiding him."
The masked elder beside him said nothing.
Then, quietly, "Do you want me to intervene?"
"No. Let the Hollow test him. If he is truly chosen… he'll reach the core. And if he does—"
"We kill him?"
Elder Mo was silent.
"No," he finally said. "If he reaches the core… we follow him."
Meanwhile, in the Hollow
Lin Fei continued through the ancient valley, now transformed. The mists had thinned, and the ground glowed faintly with runic patterns, guiding him forward. Ahead, he saw a staircase descending into a massive stone doorway framed by two statues of forgotten gods.
As he approached, a sound met his ears—dripping water, slow and rhythmic. And then, words, carved above the gate:
"Beyond this gate lies the Heart Root. Only those who carry flame and shadow may enter."
He frowned. Flame… he had the ember technique from the sect. But shadow?
He thought back to the doppelgänger—the darkness in the first trial.
Am I supposed to accept both? he wondered. Light and dark?
No time for doubt.
He stepped forward—and the gate began to open.
A third rune began to glow.
End of Chapter 4