天命五劫

The copper coin seared into Ling Tian's palm, branding his flesh with a charred imprint. As his blood dripped onto the prescription, the ink reacted, revealing an additional line in crimson calligraphy: "At the third quarter of Xu hour, the mass grave, dig seven zhang and seven chi deep."

The moment he crushed the earthen jar beneath his foot, the desiccated corpse's fingers twitched. Its skeletal claws latched onto his ankle. The hem of its official robes split open, exposing a pair of eerie, azure bones—identical to the failed alchemical bodies he had encountered in the Ghost Market's underground chamber.

Ghostly flames flickered over the mass grave as dusk descended. Ling Tian wielded his Blood Bodhi as a spade, its roots piercing the frozen soil. But what he unearthed was not a skeleton—it was a bronze chain.

The chain's links were engraved with celestial constellations, and at every seventh link, a copper coin was embedded. The final coin was threaded through a human phalanx. The moment Ling Tian pulled the chain, a deep rumbling echoed from beneath. The ground within a ten-zhang radius suddenly collapsed, revealing a bottomless chasm.

At the heart of this abyss, a monolithic stone stele stood in defiance of time. Its surface bore reverse-etched Sanskrit, hiding an ancient and ominous truth:

"Those who defy fate—stars shall be their prison, blood shall be their key."

Behind the stele, an iron coffin was suspended in midair, held aloft by eight colossal chains. On the lid, five empty indentations the size of copper coins were neatly arranged. Three of them were already stained a deep crimson—filled by the roots of Ling Tian's Blood Bodhi.

As he gazed at the remaining slot, a single character shimmered into view—"Xiao."

The moment the coffin began to creak open, an indescribable force surged forth. Ling Tian's heartbeat faltered, then accelerated—its rhythm mirroring the deep, thunderous pulsations emanating from within the coffin.

And then—he saw them.

Inside the coffin lay a sea of crystalline glass eyeballs.

They were packed so densely that they seemed to flow like liquid. Each eyeball's pupil reflected a different scene:

—A battlefield in the distant northern deserts, where undead soldiers wandered aimlessly.

—A riverside stronghold in Jiangnan, engulfed in raging flames, black smoke curling toward the heavens.

—A vast and intricate celestial armillary sphere, buried beneath the imperial palace, ceaselessly rotating in the dark.

But the most terrifying sight lay beneath the mound of eyes.

One of the orbs suddenly split apart, revealing a fragmented star map within. Five faintly glowing stars drifted slowly across the chart, their trajectories woven with a pattern that seemed to defy comprehension.

"Found you."

A voice, smooth as silk yet cold as death, slithered down from above.

Standing on the crater's edge was Cao Wuhuo, the Grand Director of the Eastern Depot. He strode down the pit's incline, stepping over skeletal remains, his mechanical prosthetic whirring as he twirled a copper coin inscribed with the name 'Shi' between his fingers.

Ling Tian shattered the airborne coin with a single punch—only for it to explode into a poisonous mist. Within the fog, thirty-eight glass jars flickered into view. Inside each one, a cloned body mirrored his every move in perfect unison.

"For every soul you kill, their agony will return to haunt you tenfold."

Cao Wuhuo's voice was a blade of ice, sharp and merciless. He plunged his prosthetic arm into the frozen earth, wrenching free a gleaming meteoric iron saber.

"Your grandfather, Ling Huaiyuan, tried to escape this 'mercy.' He lost his mind in the process. And now… it's your turn."

As his words fell, the saber arced downward, its edge gleaming with cold, merciless light.

In that instant—

The Blood Bodhi on Ling Tian's chest flared with an unearthly radiance.

Its roots writhed like serpents, coiling around the falling blade, then lunging up along its steel edge toward Cao Wuhuo.

But the Grand Director did not flinch. Instead, his lips curled into a twisted smile.

He ripped open his robes, revealing an obsidian shard embedded in his chest—a fragment of the Celestial Armillary Sphere.

The moment the Blood Bodhi's tendrils touched the shard, a deafening shockwave burst forth. Ling Tian convulsed as every old wound he had ever suffered—hidden and dormant—tore open all at once.

Agony seared through his veins, a torment so profound it nearly drove him into oblivion.

Cao Wuhuo's voice dripped with mockery as he traced a finger over the shard's surface.

"This piece of the Celestial Armillary Sphere? It was crafted from your grandfather's skull."

His smile widened, a grotesque display of cruelty.

"Before he died, he begged me—pleaded with me—not to end your bloodline.

So tell me, Ling Tian…

Can you guess what I told him?"

Ling Tian spat out a mouthful of blackened blood.

The moment his blood hit the ground, the scattered golden silkworm gu wriggled into formation, assembling into the hexagram for 'Heaven and Earth in Stasis' (Qian-Kun Pi).

The instant the hexagram was completed—

The chains below snapped taut, and from within the iron coffin, a bone arrow shot forth.

Its tip impaled the Celestial Armillary Fragment in Cao Wuhuo's chest.

The Director's mechanical arm erupted in a shower of molten debris. Ling Tian seized the opening, his hands closing around Cao Wuhuo's throat—only to feel no flesh beneath his grip.

Instead, the Director's skin split apart, revealing a writhing mass of silver silkworms.

Midnight struck.

The world fell silent—save for the rhythmic echo of a watchman's drum.

Under the dim moonlight, Ling Tian knelt before the iron coffin, his expression unreadable.

As his eyes scanned the Ling Clan's ancestral registry, carved into the coffin's base, his name stood prominently.

And beside it—four empty slots.

Each was labeled with an unfamiliar title:

—Xuan Ji (Arcane Mechanism)

—Zhui Feng (Pursuing Wind)

—Tie Gu (Iron Bone)

—Huan Ying (Phantom Shadow)

A flicker of confusion passed through him.

Then, his gaze drifted to the final entry at the bottom of the registry.

The name was barely legible, smeared with ancient bloodstains.

Yet, he could still make out three unmistakable characters:

Ling Huaiyuan.

And the date beside it—exactly thirty years ago.

A strange rustling sound broke the silence.

Ling Tian turned—

From the corpse of Cao Wuhuo, a swarm of golden silkworm gu erupted, coalescing in midair into a celestial star chart.

Among the twinkling constellations, five brilliant stars were bound in place by invisible chains.

And then—

One of them broke free, plummeting toward the southeastern horizon.

Its destination—

The Jiangnan Xuan Clan.