No Moon, But Mid-Autumn

Night fell as usual. Xiao Fan paced back and forth alone in his room, looking deeply anxious.

"Could it be... I'm fucking a prince too? Emperor Hongwu's illegitimate son hidden among the common folk?"

The idea was not without basis. After all, plenty of cheap pulp novels had similar tropes... it was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Let me sort this out... according to the original owner's memories, I've been in the Xiao Family since birth. There's no possibility that I was switched at birth halfway through... besides, the Xiao Family has never had any dealings with the Ji Clan's imperial family."

No... it shouldn't be like this... The original owner's childhood memories were complete. His entire childhood lacked the wandering hardships that imperial bastards in those pulp novels always went through...

Xiao Fan immediately recalled something even more important: the golden scales on his body were different from the black scales on Ji Xuanyuan's.

According to Ji Xuanyuan, the scales of every prince who cultivated the Sovereign True Dragon Heart Seal were black. From Ji Xuanyuan's reaction, one could even infer that the Ji Clan imperial family's dragon scales had always been black.

From this alone, it seemed highly likely that Xiao Fan had no blood relation to the Ji Clan imperial family...

Could it be that, besides the Ji Clan imperial family, other lineages possessed dragon blood as well? Like the old Xiao Family?

For now, he had no way to confirm this, because he had never seen golden scales appear on either his father or his older sister...

"Wait!"

Xiao Fan suddenly froze as a memory of the original owner spread through his mind!

"Our old Xiao Family's bloodline is special. Our blood contains the power of pure yang—it can neutralize all poisons and ignite Blood-Burning Flame!"

The original owner had heard his father say those words when he was a child.

Afterward, the original owner began poison-resistance training, using his special bloodline to neutralize all kinds of toxins... until he had ultimately become nearly immune to poison.

As for Blood-Burning Flame, the original owner had only begun cultivating it at the age of twelve. Aside from consuming blood, this skill was not difficult to cultivate, and the original owner mastered it quickly.

But here was the problem. Xiao Fan racked his brain, revisiting the original owner's life and experiences, only to discover an obvious issue that was all too easy to overlook.

Xiao Wu had never once used his own blood to demonstrate the "old Xiao Family bloodline" he spoke of!

Not only Xiao Wu—Xiao Fan had never seen his older sister, Xiao Jinlan, use the secret art of Blood-Burning Flame either.

This was an important memory that could easily be overlooked!

A bold conjecture was now on the verge of surfacing. Xiao Fan murmured, "Could it be... that only my blood can ignite flames... and neutralize toxins?"

Confirming this would actually be very simple... he only needed to give his old man or older sister a small dose of laxative...

It was a bit underhanded, sure, but for martial artists of their level, laxatives had very limited effects. At most, they would make a few extra trips to the latrine; they would not harm their bodies.

If they could, like him, remain completely immune to the laxative's effects, then it would prove that the old Xiao Family's special bloodline was real.

On the other hand, if they could not even swiftly detoxify a mere laxative, then it meant their bloodline had no ability to neutralize toxins at all!

Xiao Fan felt incomparably weary. Lying on his bed, he let out a helpless sigh. "Dad... just how many things have you been hiding from me?"

Tonight was originally the Mid-Autumn Festival, a grand holiday recorded in ancient texts as a time to worship the moon.

As everyone knew, there was no moon in this world...

No one knew when it began, but people had stopped worshipping something that had long ceased to exist... and the so-called Mid-Autumn Festival had gradually been forgotten by history...

Yet there was still a small group of people who remembered this holiday... a holiday of immense importance to them!

The night sky remained shrouded beneath thick storm clouds, as eerie and sinister as ever, no different from any other night at first glance.

Yet some people refused to accept it. They always believed that the moon, long gone from this world, would appear on this day and bring salvation to mankind...

Fifty li outside the capital lay a desolate ruin, black clouds slowly circling overhead.

Amid the broken walls and crumbling rubble, a cluster of shadowy figures gathered.

They stood barefoot, clad in black cloth garments patterned with moons. Their hoods hung low, their faces buried deep within ominous shadows.

At the center of the crowd stood a one-eyed visage carved from strange stone, radiating a sinister, uncanny aura...

The single eye looked like jade, yet not jade. Its surface was covered in fine, naturally formed lines like blood vessels, while at its center lay a deep and unfathomable hollow, as though it led to the abyss beneath the Nine Netherworlds. It emanated a malice cold enough to chill one's marrow.

Ghostly blue candle flames flickered unstably around the stone eye. Though they gave off light, they did not lead toward brightness; rather, they resembled wisps of imprisoned remnant souls struggling and wailing.

Before the gathered shadows, a hunched old man slowly rose...

In his claw-like, withered hand, he gripped a somber wooden staff covered in vertical-pupil totems. Within the hollow depths of the black stone bead embedded at its tip, a faint glimmer of inhuman light flickered.

The old man raised his staff high. His throat rumbled as he released an excited shriek like grinding sand and wind returning through a dry well:

"Lord of the Night! Moon That Annihilates Worlds! Undying True Source that stands above this tiny universe, Eye of Enlightenment that pierces false flesh and reveals the true form of the Great Void!"

"We lowly ants are willing to offer these mortal shells as cauldrons, burn our souls as sacrificial incense, and humbly beseech our lord to cast down a single thread of divine thought!"

"We pray that the supreme will descend upon this filthy world, and return all things beneath the heavens to the truth of the Great Void!"

The prayer was like demonic sound pouring into their ears, and the believers behind him rose in response...

They were no longer human, but became a mass of twisted, writhing shadow-wraiths, beginning an eerie and inscrutable Nuo dance.

Those indescribable movements were at times as swift as torrential rain and raging wind, shattering the air and tearing through shadows! At other times, they were as slow as an undercurrent in a deep pool, sluggish and heavy...

With every gesture, their muscles and bones bent backward, their postures inhuman, as though they were silently tracing an ancient curse beyond comprehension—one that led straight into madness.

The air around them suddenly turned thick as glue. A powerful stench of blood mingled with an indescribable odor of decay, fermenting the utmost ecstasy together with the deepest terror!

Deep within the shadowy hollow of the stone sculpture's single eye, something seemed to have been stirred by this filthy devotion. An "intent," heavy as the deep sea, began to awaken.

As everything reached the pinnacle of madness, all the believers, moving in perfect unison, abruptly halted their inhuman dance.

Their throats split open soundlessly, yet no blood spurted forth. Instead, strange dark-red sigils, red as cinnabar, slowly surfaced and coiled around their necks!

Then, threads of dark-red vital blood, thick as liquid mercury, seeped from the sigils. They congealed without dispersing, hovering in the air as though drawn by invisible hands.

The hunched old man let out a piercing shriek and viciously drove his wooden staff, topped with a vertical eye, into the ground!

In an instant, the vital blood suspended in the air seemed to be granted the will and form of living things. It suddenly boiled and slithered!

Countless blood threads darted like living snakes, weaving across the ground into a glaring scarlet formation that pulsed and twisted without cease!

Layer upon layer of whispers, seeming both distant and near, rose from nowhere...

The voices were murky beyond measure, echoing and resonating through every inch of the ruins... This was Its acknowledgment and response to the filthy blood sacrifice.

The believers had been drained of all vital blood, collapsing to the ground like withered husks of skin. Yet beneath every hood, the corners of their mouths were stretched into smiles of utter fanaticism.

They firmly believed that, after this night, the boundary between their mortal flesh and that great existence would have blurred. Their souls had already merged into eternal chaos... merged into "reality"...

They needed only wait for the final annihilation to descend upon the world. Then they would become the tiny motes of dust that carried their Lord's will within this turbid world, existing alongside their Lord!

...The Bureau of Celestial Observation's stargazing platform, eastern district of the capital.

A stargazer wearing a broad hood that concealed his face was keeping the night watch...

He gazed up at the heavens. Suddenly, his eyes flew wide open like bronze bells, and madness filled the depths of his bloodshot gaze!

Those fanatical eyes seemed capable of piercing through the fading glow of the Sacred Flame, reaching straight into the heavy clouds and resonating with something indescribable.

He slowly opened his mouth and spoke in a dry, hoarse voice, uttering words that were neither human nor inhuman...

"Lord... one month from now... Nine Provinces... martial tournament..."