All Heavenly destiny reduced to ashes

"It's actually so strict... even stricter than one might imagine."

An Jing had noticed this before, but now it seemed that even the secret training ground of a hidden sect in the mountains couldn't explain such a high level of defensive planning. It was obviously designed to withstand an attack from a large army.

Hanging Fate Manor was vast, its layout forming a 'well-field' grid pattern.

The 'well' at the center was the Medicine Pavilion, and the dwelling place for the children in training was less than a quarter of the entire area.

The 'fields' on each side were halfway up the hills flanking Hanging Fate Manor, where many medicinal herbs were grown. During training, An Jing could also see people cultivating the land there.

Behind Hanging Fate Manor lay a waterfall and deep pool, one of the manor's sources of water. Further back was a large canyon, which An Jing knew from Instructor Li and others to be 'Hanging Fate Valley,' from which the manor got its name. It was very profound, but he had never seen it with his own eyes.

An Jing moved silently through the darkness.

Even though all the instructors were at the Inner Breath realm, their martial skills were not excessively brilliant. From little hints and pieces gathered over time, An Jing had come to understand that all these instructors were 'failed test subjects' from past assessments.

Exactly what constituted a failure most likely came down to whether one eventually awakened their Fate Pattern, but even without it, one could still cultivate to the level of Inner Breath like Tide.

In a county-level city, that was already quite strong.

—Perhaps there were a few more instructors patrolling, so he had to be extra cautious.

An Jing never took chances lightly, he circulated his fully developed Abyssal Qi Nourishing Stance, concealing his breath within himself, virtually non-existent.

Not only that, the muscles throughout An Jing's body tensed, maintaining a precise balance with a more compact and restrained power, readying his whole body's strength.

It was also no surprise that An Jing suspected Hanging Fate Manor was a training ground for assassins and Loyal Warriors. This mental method was indeed a perfect fit for infiltration actions—not only that, after Qi Nourishing, combining it with Piercing Armor True Strength for an attack would produce an incredibly terrifying instantaneous burst. It was a genuine approach of staking one's life on a single blow.

This set of martial skills and cultivation methods was very high-grade; no common martial arts school in the cities could teach it. With An Jing's experience, this set of life-staking explosive techniques was impressive enough to be the secret prowess of some renowned martial arts schools.

If they could teach such martial skills, they shouldn't be so short-sighted... so much money had been spent to buy children for martial arts instruction, it didn't seem right that they would just carelessly kill them off...

And those instructor riders, servants, and maids as well, vaguely revealed that they were the children who had been eliminated during past training... Without a Fate Pattern, they would ultimately be discarded. Were those exotic meats and potions intended to catalyze the Fate Pattern, or rather, to cultivate someone to a state close to awakening a Fate Pattern?

Fate Pattern, Fate Pattern... can Fate Patterns really be artificially induced by other means? It always felt somewhat off...

Muttering to himself, An Jing still didn't want to suspect Hanging Fate Manor, even now.

After all, in these tumultuous times, Hanging Fate Manor ultimately saved many people.

He might not have been among those they saved, but other children did indeed find a way to survive because of Hanging Fate Manor.

Moving quickly, An Jing observed the surroundings from a high vantage point, but overall, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Most of those pavilions stored vast quantities of medicinal herbs and materials or some books and maps; others were empty dwellings that might have been inhabited in the past, but at the very least, they hadn't been visited in seven or eight years.

Of course, the fact that some places had been unvisited for seven or eight years was indeed unusual—why were those dwellings empty? Could it be that there was a time when Hanging Fate Manor had more students?

Seven or eight years ago... Ten years ago... Wait, that period of time?

An Jing's pupils constricted slightly—The Hanhai Demon Calamity?

That's right! If it was during the era of the Hanhai Demon Calamity, it would indeed be similar to the current Frost Calamity at the Northern Border. There would have been a large number of Children of Calamity, and the severity of the Hanhai Demon Calamity would have far surpassed the mere cold and snow of the frost disaster, surely Hanging Fate Manor could have found many more Children of Calamity willing to sell themselves!

After realizing this, An Jing felt there was even less that was unusual.

If anything had to be said, the only anomaly was the absence of people.

Could it be they really were just sent down the mountain?

An Jing was puzzled. If Zhang Ying hadn't followed him like a little brother since the second day of entering the manor, he wouldn't have thought to look for him.

But now, he had searched the entire manor and there was no trace of him at all.

With a silent sigh, An Jing decided it was time to turn back, "Forget it, let's go back to sleep early; there's training tomorrow."

However, just as An Jing turned his head and was about to leave, he heard a strange sound.

It was like the sharp cry of a bird or perhaps a human scream, appearing only for a moment, then vanishing without a trace.

"What?"

An Jing immediately turned around and looked in the direction the voice had come from.

It was the Medicine Pavilion.

"What is that voice..."

An Jing was somewhat curious, and he slowly approached the Medicine Pavilion.

But just at that moment, a strange voice rang out.

[Stop...]

The voice was clear yet unfamiliar, seemingly that of a woman, bright and lively, like the singing throat of a bird, yet also like the flow of a clear spring.

But... it also resembled a more tenacious, sharper voice.

Like... the hum of a sword vibrating!

The voice solemnly intoned with a cautionary tone: [Do not proceed]

—Who?!

An Jing abruptly stopped in his tracks, halting his advance toward the Medicine Pavilion, he looked around in astonishment but discovered nothing.

The stars and moon shimmered, the moonlight was like gauze, and everything under the night sky was exceedingly quiet; no one had been awakened, and there was no lingering sound.

Everything seemed to be an illusion, a hallucination of hearing.

However, the voice saying 'do not proceed' still echoed in An Jing's mind, like the reverberating echoes between layers of mountains, yet crystal clear without becoming muddied by the echoing, merely slowly dissipating.

The heart's voice full of caution instantly calmed An Jing's restless thoughts, and a tranquil, serene feeling spread out continuously, like a drop of cold rain falling from the sky, landing on the lake of his heart clearing everything, bringing the rippling heart lake back to a stillness like a mirror.

—Is someone helping me?

Once he had calmed down and taken several deep breaths, An Jing stared at the Medicine Pavilion before him and realized his own recklessness.

The Medicine Pavilion was different from other places; it was always brightly lit, the hanging lanterns and numerous oil lamps illuminated it inside and out like the twilight.

In such a state, if he got any closer, he would definitely be noticed.

...I can't approach, but who was that voice? Why would it caution me to stop?

And why would it caution me about these things?

What exactly were the adults of Hanging Fate Manor doing, what were they plotting?

An Jing exhaled slowly, suppressing the restlessness and scare within him, and contemplated leaving.

The current situation was clearly not suitable for further exploration, and realizing his rashness, he acknowledged that he needed to make more preparations.

In the end, he still returned to his dormitory and lay back in his bed.

In the silence and darkness, full of doubts, An Jing fell asleep once more.

In his dreams, he dreamed of hunger, he dreamed of wild beasts, he dreamed of fangs honed to sharpness, he dreamed of the sound of gnashing and growling, he dreamed of flesh dripping with blood, bones, and a beating heart.

They were being patient, they were waiting.

Not yet, they whispered at a low volume.

Not now, An Jing murmured to himself in his dream.

In the end, An Jing dreamed of a cold light.

He dreamed of a sword.