A Song For The Ages

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting molten light over the peaks of the alchemy branch as Feiyin sat cross-legged within his new quarters.

His obsidian-black hair shimmered faintly in the golden hue, tied loosely behind his back and held in place by a simple yet elegant hairpin, a gift from Yuli.

She had joked that it was part of the uniform for promising alchemists, but when she noticed his long hair always falling across his face, she took it more seriously and gave him one to help.

High cheekbones framed a face of sharp yet youthful grace, and his pale skin bore the healthy flush of cultivation. His gray eyes, flecked with hints of violet, were half-lidded in focus, calm yet alert.

The air shimmered faintly with warmth from the fire veins beneath his floor, a quiet, pulsing thrum of energy mirroring the oscillation of his three qi nexuses within. Each beat echoed softly in his ears, a rhythm only he could hear, like a layered symphony, strong, steady, purposeful.

He held the communication jade in his palm, its surface glowing faintly with pulsing azure light. The connection formed, and the voice of Zhou Rui, gravelly and seasoned by decades of burden and insight, came through.

"You made it to the Qi Flow Phase, huh?"

"I did," Feiyin replied, lips curling into a small smile. "I felt that I reached my peak, so I didn't wait any more."

"You better be," Zhou said with a quiet chuckle. "Any faster and you'd tear yourself apart. But... this is good. This is very good. You're moving fast, but not recklessly." There was a slight pause, then he added, "You really are something else, brat."

Feiyin grinned faintly, leaning back slightly. "Careful, old man Zhou. If you keep complimenting me like this, I might start thinking you actually like me."

Zhou gave a snort, clearly amused. "Tch. Don't get ahead of yourself. I just don't want to admit that someone not even half my age might have a shot at succeeding where I didn't."

"Is that so? Then I'll make sure not to disappoint. You've helped me more than you let on."

"Hmph," Zhou muttered, but there was no real venom to it. Only pride he wouldn't admit. "Enjoy these moments. It gets worse the further you climb."

"You've said something like that before," Feiyin noted.

"Because it's always true." Zhou sighed, the sound distant. "When you become an inner disciple, that's when the sect truly begins to use you. Most don't last. You know what happens to the best ones? The sect sends them on infiltration missions, sometimes into enemy sects, sometimes into unaligned powers. Some disappear. Some die. The rest come back... changed."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Feiyin's expression grew serious. He tapped the edge of the jade. "And those who refuse?"

"They become fertilizer, one way or another."

A cold silence hung between them.

Feiyin eventually broke it, his tone quiet. "I'll find a way out, for all of us."

Zhou's voice softened. "Then make sure your foundation is unshakable. That's how you'll survive the storms to come."

"Understood."

The jade dimmed as the connection faded. Feiyin set it aside and exhaled.

He turned his attention to the other item resting on the table in front of him, a pale jade slip with silver inscriptions across its edge. It gleamed faintly in the light of the formation-lined room.

The True Pupil.

He pressed his spiritual sense into the jade, and a wave of knowledge flowed into him.

The True Pupil was a rare eye technique, crafted by and for formation masters, originally intended to magnify the vision needed for precise sigil work and to withstand illusions meant to disrupt constructs. It required immense control over both spiritual sense and essence qi, and the process was delicate, engraving sigils into the eye itself.

Most deemed it impractical, as even small missteps during the process could lead to permanent damage, even blindness. Yet the benefits were profound. The technique was split into stages, each linked to where the sigils were etched: starting with the iris, then the retina, and finally, the optic nerve.

It didn't just enhance sight. It revealed minute motions, formation flaws, and illusions. A completed True Pupil could dismantle hostile arrays and pierce veils of concealment.

But what truly thrilled Feiyin wasn't just its effects, it was the implications. The technique was designed for formation masters, allowing them to zoom in on intricate details, trace energy flows, and dismantle arrays more precisely. More importantly, it was crafted to resist illusions and mental tampering.

To Feiyin, this represented something greater. If sigils could alter and improve the function of such a sensitive organ, could they be inscribed onto the body in other ways? Could one enhance other parts of the flesh, beyond regular tempering? The real question that lit a fire in his mind, however, was this, what if instead of sigils, a real rune, one granted and recognized by the heavens, could be engraved into the body?

The concept filled him with a rush of excitement he hadn't felt in a long while. The body as a medium of growth, with its components as the ingredients, alchemy in the purest sense. Not simply changing things outside oneself, but becoming the very embodiment of transformation.

He knew it was still far beyond his reach. Runes were born, not made, at least for now. But the idea formed in his mind, and it had taken root.

Still, he turned back to the technique. The first step was to imbue the eyes daily with essence qi, tempering them to withstand the process. Then, by using his oscillation sense to guide and harmonize that flow, he would slowly begin crafting a spiritual lens over the iris, a construct of perception.

It was tempting to begin immediately.

But Feiyin looked toward the door, and his thoughts drifted to Baiyu.

"Not yet," he said quietly. "I still have a promise to fulfill first."