Chapter 5 LURKING ENEMIES ABOVE AND BELOW
“No.”
Lady Elara’s voice trembled, yet carried the quiet steel of a mother’s love. She sat upright in her bed, silver hair framing a face pale with exhaustion, her storm-cloud eyes filled with fear. “I forbid you to take part in the tournament, my child. You are not strong enough.”
Seokga stood before her, fists clenched at his sides. The faint pulse of the Eclipse Sigil throbbed weakly in his core, still sealed behind mortal frailty. “I know, Mother. But I have to do something.”
“You don’t understand,” Elara whispered, reaching out to grasp his hand. Her touch was cool, fragile, like frost on dying petals. “It is a blood bath in there. The Crimson Fang Grand Selection is no mere contest of skill. Young cultivators clash with lethal intent. Bones shatter, meridians rupture, and many never return from the arena. The academy scouts care only for the strong. The weak… are discarded.”
Seokga’s lips curved into a small, bitter smile. “But so is the outer sect, Mama. Or the spirit mines. It is worth a shot. And if I die…” He paused, the weight of his previous execution flashing behind his eyes. Hopefully not again, he thought to himself. “I’ll die a hero.”
Elara’s breath hitched. For a moment, pride softened the terror in her gaze. “Oh, my son… a true warrior at heart you are.” She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing gently across his skin. “But how do you plan on winning? You have no qi. I would love to give you all I have, but I myself am living on borrowed qi — fragments stolen from spirit herbs and ancestral pills just to keep this broken body moving.”
Seokga hesitated, then spoke carefully. “I think I might have a way. But the spell I need is missing. I can’t find the book.”
“Hmm? What book is that?”
“The Tome of Vein Resonance,” Seokga replied, recalling the shimmering characters that had briefly stirred his sealed power. “An ancient manual on unlocking dormant essence and breaking through blocked meridians.”
Elara’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh… that was my grandfather’s. It was part of my wedding gifts from my family. I believe there should be a spare copy in the abandoned dungeon beneath the western tower. But I forbid you to go there.” Her voice dropped, laced with dread. “Dark spirits torment that place. Restless ghosts of failed cultivators and beasts long slain still linger, feeding on the living.”
An abandoned dungeon… Sounds like fun, Seokga thought, a spark of his old divine recklessness igniting in his chest.
“It is worth the risk,” he said aloud.
“No… You can’t.”
“I will.”
“You will not.”
“I have to.” His voice rose, firm and unyielding, echoing with the arrogance of a once-god. “I need to do this for us.”
Elara stared at him for a long moment, tears glistening but not yet falling. Finally, she sighed, a sound heavy with reluctant acceptance. “Hmm… it is fine, my son.” She reached beneath her pillow and withdrew a small, glowing amulet — a silver lotus etched with faint ice runes, pulsing with gentle protective qi. “Here. Take my amulet. It will shield you from the worst of the spirits’ malice.”
“Mama, no…”
“Hush. That is the only way I’m letting you go.” She pressed the amulet into his palm, closing his fingers around it. “But go with Esmond. He will guide you. He is a distant relative and was gifted to me as a loyal attendant. You can trust him.”
Seokga nodded. “Okay, Mama.”
“The spirits be with you.”
“I’ll be on my way.”
He could see the tears she was holding back, shimmering like unshed starlight. But he had no choice. Time was running out.
Seokga dressed quickly in simple dark robes and sturdy boots. This mortal body was such a cruel joke — thin arms that could barely lift a training sword, legs that trembled after only a short walk. Pathetic, he thought bitterly. A god reduced to this fragile shell.
Esmond waited for him outside the chamber. The young man was lanky yet graceful, with a boyish face that still carried the sharp edges of adulthood. Handsome in a roguish way, with tousled dark hair and bright, alert eyes, he moved with the easy confidence of someone who turned heads among the maids. Seokga hoped he was more than just his looks — that the loyalty Elara placed in him was earned.
They set off toward the farthest edge of the estate as dusk bled across the sky.
The journey was horrific.
Twisted ancient trees loomed like skeletal guardians, their branches clawing at the fading light. Thick fog rolled across the ground, carrying the stench of decay and old blood. The air grew colder with every step, heavy with the wails of unseen spirits. Loud, mournful cries echoed through the undergrowth — ghostly howls that scraped against the soul. Scattered spirit bones littered the path: cracked skulls, shattered femurs, and ribcages still glowing with faint, corrupted qi, remnants of cultivators who had dared enter and never returned.
Halfway through the overgrown path, a low growl rumbled from the shadows.
A beast burst forth — a twisted spirit wolf, its fur matted with black ichor, eyes burning with malevolent red light. Its maw dripped venom that sizzled on the ground. The creature lunged at Seokga with unnatural speed.
Esmond moved like lightning. He drew a slender blade from his side and struck with precise, flowing movements. Qi flared around him as he sliced through the beast’s flank, severing tendons in a clean arc. The wolf howled in rage, but Esmond followed with a spinning kick that shattered its spine. Black blood sprayed across the fog as the creature collapsed, twitching, before dissolving into dark mist.
“Not bad,” Seokga muttered, impressed despite himself.
Esmond wiped his blade, flashing a quick, boyish grin. “Can’t let the young master get eaten on his first real adventure, can I?”
They pressed on, the cries growing louder, the bones more numerous, until they reached the crumbling tower hidden by vines and shadow. At its base lay the entrance to the abandoned dungeon — a heavy stone door etched with warning runes.
With combined effort, they pushed the stone aside, revealing a hidden crypt that had once served as a secret library. Dust motes danced in the faint light of glowing moss. Shelves of rotting wood groaned under the weight of forgotten jade slips and leather-bound tomes.
They began searching frantically, fingers brushing across spines in the dimness.
A cold, mocking voice cut through the silence.
“Looking for this?”
Seokga and Esmond whirled around.
Kael stood in the doorway, tall and imposing, holding the Tome of Vein Resonance in one hand. His obsidian eyes gleamed with dark amusement, and that unnatural, predatory aura clung to him like a second skin — sadistic hunger barely veiled.
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