Chapter 28 – Echoes of Dread
A suffocating silence blanketed the field.
The ancient symbol hovered in front of Jin like a judgment from the heavens—unmoving yet seething with unfathomable power. The sky, consumed by darkness, churned above the arena. Not a single cultivator dared to speak. Not even the elders.
Jin stood at the center of it all, body bloodied and torn, one knee on the ground. His breath was ragged. His eyes were hollow—focused on nothing and everything all at once. The mark before him pulsed softly, like a heartbeat from the ancient times, resonating with something deep within his soul.
The elder who had toyed with him only moments ago knelt several meters away, drenched in sweat. His limbs refused to obey. He had faced beasts, men, and elemental storms—but never before had he tasted this primal, unrelenting dread. It coiled around his heart like a serpent.
"Wh-What is that…?" whispered Elder Sael, one of the observers seated in the high pavilion. Even at late-stage Adept Realm, he felt cold needles prickling his skin.
None of the three elders sent by the Aegis Sect spoke further. They watched in horror as the glowing symbol twisted in the air, forming complex lines and curves that none of them could comprehend. A faint hum accompanied its rotation—neither musical nor mechanical—just…ancient.
"It's a language," murmured Elder Harn. "Or maybe…a seal. Whatever it is, this isn't from our realm."
Below, Jin clutched his chest. His consciousness teetered between fading and returning. He felt the orb again, pulsing where his heart should be. It was no longer dormant. It was alive. It was watching. And it had heard his vow.
His essence was gone—completely drained by that half-formed symbol. But something else coursed through his veins now. A darkness not malicious, but vast. It carried his resentment, his dreams, his refusal to die quietly.
The elder who had fought him—Elder Naris—finally stirred. He forced himself upright, though his legs trembled. His pride as a mid-stage Adept Realm cultivator wouldn't let him collapse before juniors.
But he wouldn't get a second chance.
The symbol flared.
A blast of invisible pressure rolled outward. It didn't strike with force, but with sheer presence—pushing down like a mountain of wills from an ancient era. Cultivators in the crowd fell to their knees. A few vomited blood. Those below Initiate Realm fainted outright.
Elder Naris gasped, falling flat on his stomach. "Make it stop!" he screamed internally. "This isn't a technique… This is existence!"
But just as the pressure reached its peak, it vanished.
The symbol dimmed.
The sky lightened.
Jin collapsed.
The moment passed like a breath, but it left behind an echo that would linger in every heart for the rest of their lives.
The silence that followed wasn't peaceful. It was reverent. Fearful.
Sect leaders and elders remained paralyzed. The arena's healer squads rushed forward, but many hesitated before approaching Jin, their instincts warning them away.
"What... What have we brought into our sect?" Elder Sael finally whispered.
None answered.
---
Hours later, in the recovery chambers of the Aegis Sect, Jin lay unconscious, his body barely clinging to life. The dark orb within him had returned to its slumber, but a part of its essence now lingered in his soul—no longer separate, but integrated.
Outside the chamber, elders held a tense meeting.
"That was not a bloodline technique," said Elder Harn. "Nor was it any known cultivation art. I've lived over a hundred years. I have never witnessed anything like this."
"And yet," Elder Sael said grimly, "he is still a disciple of our sect."
"For how long?" came a quiet voice. It was Elder Varek.
The room fell still.
Elder Varek smiled faintly, concealing the storm inside. That monstrous display… It wasn't supposed to exist. Jin was supposed to die. The assassins were supposed to kill him.
He would not make that mistake again.
"Whether friend or foe," Varek said, voice honeyed, "we must understand what we're dealing with. And if need be…contain it."
---
Meanwhile, news had already spread.
From the central lands to the distant southern sects, the story of a mysterious disciple named Jin—who made an elder kneel and summoned an ancient power—traveled faster than any beast or scroll. Speculations flared.
"Could it be a lost inheritance?"
"Or a curse from the Forbidden Depths?"
"No… no one at the Adept Realm should have that much power."
Regardless of origin, the name Jin had been etched into the records of Detrox's cultivators.
---
In the quiet of the night, Jin stirred.
Pain. That was his first sensation.
Then came fire. Ice. Wind. Earth. They pulsed through his body like tides.
Then came clarity.
That moment when he formed the ancient sign... it wasn't random. It had meaning. It felt like the key to something greater. Something vast.
But he was far from ready.
Jin stared at the ceiling of the chamber. "I need control," he whispered. "More power... but with control."
Because that time, he had blacked out after forming only half the sign.
What would happen if he completed it?
The thought chilled even him.