The golden scroll above the stone dais floated in midair, its runes flowing like fireflies. The star chart on the vaulted ceiling turned slowly, casting a dim blue glow. Chen Wuya stared at the inscription carved into the back of the dais, and his heart jolted—the handwriting was unmistakably the same as when he had copied the fragmented passages of the Canglang Art as a child: crooked, immature, yet stroke for stroke identical.
He instinctively touched the key in his robes, and a trace of warmth seeped into his fingertips. The Misaligned Practice Connects to Spirit system hummed low within him, as though it had sensed something.
Mo Feng stood before a bookshelf, his gaze fixed on a tome shimmering with silver light. Its cover bore no words, but nine points of starlight emerged along its edges, moving in a particular trajectory. His breath caught slightly, and his hand reached out beyond his control.
"Nine Luminaries Sword Diagram..." he murmured, his voice trembling faintly. "My grandfather mentioned it. An ancient sword manual lost for three hundred years, said to be capable of stirring resonance with the celestial phenomena."
Bai Zhi stood sideways beside another shelf. Catching his movement from the corner of her eye, she frowned slightly. She said nothing, merely laid her flexible sword lightly across her forearm. The sapphire tassel hanging from its hilt flickered in the dim light.
Chen Wuya finally withdrew his gaze and walked slowly toward Mo Feng. He did not look at the sword manual. Instead, he watched Mo Feng's hand.
"Back then, was your father guarding a scroll, or a path?" he suddenly asked. His voice was quiet, yet it landed upon the heart like a light hammer blow.
Mo Feng's fingers froze.
Slowly, he drew back his hand and looked down at