The God Within Me

The sky above the Eastern path was grim, shrouded in thickening mist.

A small group from the Tianhan Sect moved slowly between damp stones. At the front, Han Ye walked half a step beside Yanzhi. Their shoulders nearly brushed, but neither said a word.

Behind them, Lu Ming scanned the line of disciples, his voice cutting through the fog.

"Don't stray. The mist here isn't the same as yesterday."

Some disciples only nodded. The blue lanterns in their hands flickered, as if about to go out under the biting wind.

Yanzhi tightened his robe. A fragment seal hidden beneath his inner sleeve pulsed faintly, radiating a creeping warmth up to his shoulder.

Then came a voice in his head—low, clear, and unmistakably amused.

Spirit (whispering):

"This place hasn't changed much. Still reeks of rot... just like before."

Yanzhi (eyes narrowing, voice low and cold):

"You talk like you've wandered here before. What were you, huh? A guardian? Or a demon?"

Spirit (light chuckle):

"What if I told you... I used to be the master of this place?"

Yanzhi (startled, hissing under his breath):

"Master? What's that supposed to mean? You really are a demon?! A fog beast? Or some escaped guardian soul?!"

Spirit (mocking, laid-back):

"Relax. If I wanted to devour you, you'd be nothing but ashes by now."

Yanzhi (gritting his teeth, voice low but strained):

"Great… I'm harboring a demon inside my own body. If Lu Ming or Han Ye finds out, my head's going on the sect altar!"

Spirit (teasing, almost smug):

"Behave, and you live. Ask too many questions… and I won't promise you'll stay in one piece."

Yanzhi inhaled sharply and gripped the edge of his robe tighter. He glanced at Han Ye, making sure the man hadn't overheard.

"If you drag me into trouble, I swear I'll curse you into a thousand years of chains on blackstone, you damned parasite."

Spirit (cool, faint laughter):

"So noisy. Just walk. The crack ahead is hungrier than your mouth."

Han Ye glanced back at Yanzhi.

"Talking to yourself again?"

Yanzhi turned away, voice flat.

"You could say that."

Han Ye let out a short sigh, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword.

"If you start acting weird in there, I won't hesitate to leave you behind."

Yanzhi gave him a faint smirk, voice a soft, almost mocking murmur.

"If I fall, I'm dragging you with me."

Han Ye only snorted in response.

Behind them, twigs cracked under hesitant steps, and the disciples' breathing grew heavier. The fog now crawled past their knees.

Lu Ming quickened his pace, glancing back.

"Enough talking."

Yanzhi exhaled slowly, eyes sharpening on the path of stone ahead.

Then the spirit whispered again, its tone smooth—almost a caress at the nape of his neck.

Spirit (softly):

"They're busy locking the door… but the real key is already in your pocket."

Yanzhi scoffed.

"Shut up. Your mouth is more dangerous than the fog out here."

The spirit chuckled again, then fell silent.

Ahead, the mist broke.

A dark crack in the stone valley swallowed the lantern light—gaping, waiting.

Yanzhi felt the seal on his arm burn hotter.

And behind him, the disciples slowed their steps.

No one dared to speak anymore.

The mist at the mouth of the ravine slowly parted as Lu Ming raised his blue lantern high.

Its dim light cast faint shadows on the cracked stone, revealing ancient carvings on the moss-covered walls—almost swallowed by time and rot.

Han Ye halted, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead.

"Still the same. The path hasn't shifted."

He turned to Yanzhi, gaze sharp and unreadable, as if weighing unspoken doubts.

"Don't try anything inside."

Yanzhi didn't reply. His fingers pressed against his sleeve, feeling the fragment seal buried beneath his skin. The spirit's voice came again—soft as wind brushing the ear.

Spirit (whispering):

"See? They stand before the gate… but you hold the key."

Yanzhi lowered his gaze slightly.

"You talk too much."

Lu Ming gestured toward Han Ye and Yanzhi.

"You two, up front. Clear out any debris. I'll guard the entrance."

Han Ye gave a curt nod and stepped forward, with Yanzhi trailing half a step behind.

The fog inside was heavier—clinging to the skin like icy water. Within the narrow space, a low stone altar still stood. Cracks on its surface faintly glowed blue, pulsing like a slow breath.

Yanzhi stared at it for a moment. The fragment seal on his arm responded, heat blooming and sinking into bone.

Then came the spirit's whisper again.

Spirit (tempting):

"Touch it again. Just a little… Let the old chains break."

Yanzhi scoffed inwardly.

"Open it yourself, if you're so eager."

Han Ye crouched by the altar's edge, brushing away debris with his fingers. Dust clung to his hand; his eyes were cold, probing.

"Were you hiding something… back then?" he asked without turning.

Yanzhi turned slowly.

"Believe whatever you want. I won't stop you."

Han Ye snorted, eyes drifting to the fractured seal embedded in the altar.

"If this crack spreads, the Tianhan Sect could collapse from the inside."

The spirit chuckled softly, almost with delight.

Spirit (dry and dark):

"Perfect. Let it fall. Who told them to build over the bones of others?"

Yanzhi whispered under his breath, barely audible.

"Shut up. You're not a god here."

Han Ye cast a brief glance at Yanzhi, his brow furrowed.

But before he could speak, Lu Ming's voice echoed from the tunnel's mouth.

"Hurry. The mist outside is thickening. Seal what you can—we're leaving before dusk."

Yanzhi stepped closer to the altar, his fingers hovering just above the glowing crack. Heat and cold flickered across his skin like dancing threads.

The spirit hissed in his mind, pressing against his senses like a breath on the inside of his skull.

Spirit (soft, coaxing):

"Look how fragile this seal is… One breath—one flicker of your will—and it tears apart."

Yanzhi held his breath, eyes fixed on the glowing blue fracture.

"…I'm not that foolish."

Han Ye turned to him, voice low and sharp.

"If you pull anything, I'll cut off your hand right here."

Yanzhi let out a silent laugh, fingers only brushing the surface of the altar—deceptively light.

Inside, the spirit's voice echoed, cold and amused.

Spirit:

"Good. Save it. The right moment will come."

The mist inside the chamber swirled gently, as if waiting… for someone to open the ancient gate.

Farther ahead, the fog between the stones began to shift, as though a foreign breath stirred the belly of the valley.

At the tunnel's entrance, Lu Ming's sharp gaze pierced through the dim lantern light.

He glanced back.

"Han Ye, Yanzhi! That's enough. Surface seals are in place. We'll close the old path another time."

Han Ye brushed stone dust from his palm and looked toward Yanzhi, who still lingered by the altar.

"You heard him. Don't just stand there like a statue."

Yanzhi scoffed, half-adjusting the collar of his robe.

"If it cracks again, don't make me come down here to patch it up."

The spirit whispered, this time like silk brushing his thoughts.

"Sooner or later… you'll open that gate with your own hand."

Yanzhi closed his eyes for a moment.

"…Shut your mouth."

Han Ye moved first, stepping back toward the tunnel mouth. Yanzhi followed, his pace slow, letting the altar's residual chill seep into the soles of his feet.

Outside, the fog had grown thicker. Dew clung to the tips of his hair.

Lu Ming stood at the entrance, his eyes briefly meeting Yanzhi's.

There was suspicion—faint but lingering. Yet he said nothing.

"Watch your steps. The eastern trail is thick with mist. Don't stray."

Suddenly, the snap of a branch echoed from the side.

Yanzhi turned sharply.

Within the dark fog, two silhouettes stood against the stone wall.

Wei Ren. And behind him, Bai Lin, head bowed, eyes averted.

Lu Ming's eyes sharpened at once.

"Wei Ren? Who gave you permission to be here?"

Wei Ren chuckled lightly, lifting his hands as if innocent.

"Ah, Senior Lu Ming. The fog outside got too thick—I was only worried some disciples might lose their way. I came to help..."

Yanzhi scoffed under his breath, glancing at Han Ye.

"Heroic fox, roaming around in the fog like it's his playground."

The spirit laughed softly in Yanzhi's mind, its tone amused.

"Let him be. That rotten tongue of his might open a new crack sooner than you."

Lu Ming stepped forward, voice edged with warning.

"Wei Ren, the sealing path is no place for games. You had no clearance to descend. Get back—now."

Wei Ren bowed slightly, but his sly smile didn't fade.

"Understood, Senior. Just concerned, that's all. Take care, will you? The valley mist… tends to feed on secrets."

Han Ye halted mid-step, his glare slicing through Wei Ren like a blade.

"Leave before I drag you out by the throat."

Wei Ren simply smiled and backed away, Bai Lin stumbling behind him.

The mist swallowed their retreating figures.

Yanzhi looked once more at the darkened corridor.

The fragment seal under his sleeve pulsed faintly—quiet, but far from still.