A Song For The Ages

Feiyin stood still as the battlefield around him faded into stillness, the sun rising like a slow exhale over the bloodied ruins. The scent of smoke still clung to the air, but the dread that had lingered, thick as oil, began to lift.

Bodies lay in every direction, both human and insectoid. The Hive had been defeated. But the cost... it had not been light.

Feiyin's blade hung loosely in his grip, its edge dull from overuse, slick with drying ichor. He barely felt the weight. What echoed louder than the battle's cries was a memory, the feeling of paralysis, of insignificance. That being in the sky, that thing beyond comprehension... the sheer pressure had nearly reduced him to a kneeling corpse.

And he hadn't even touched it.

His body had not buckled, but his soul nearly had. That primal fear, that heavy, instinctual submission…

He gritted his teeth.

That was the distance. That was the difference between someone like him, a cultivator still clawing his way through the Qi Condensation realm, and a true powerhouse. A Celestial.

The gap was terrifying.

But also... motivating.

He took a deep breath, grounding himself in the sensation. He would remember this moment. This helplessness. He would etch it into his bones as a reminder of the path he had chosen, and what it demanded.

Then the air shimmered.

A burst of pressure, not oppressive, but radiant, swept over the remaining soldiers. Dust swirled, weapons rattled in their sheaths, and heads turned in unison as a figure descended from the sky.

The Star Fist Saint.

He hovered for a moment, before stepping down onto the battlefield with a casual, almost lazy grace. A tall, broad-shouldered man, with dark bronze skin and a clean-shaven head that gleamed beneath the morning light. His arms were crossed, his body wrapped in a robe that crackled faintly with power, and when he landed, the ground cracked beneath his feet, unable to bear the weight of his presence.

His gaze swept the survivors, and then locked onto Feiyin.

Feiyin straightened instinctively, wiping the blood from his face. He didn't know what to say, and could barely hold that gaze.

The Saint smirked.

"Not bad."

Just two words. But they hit harder than any blow. Not because they were filled with divine praise or distant superiority, but because they were simple, genuine. The words of someone who had once walked this path and understood the difficulty of it.

Feiyin's heart clenched. That moment would stay with him.

Then the world around him twisted.

He felt the battlefield pull away, its blood and dirt dissolving like mist under sunlight. The sounds of weary cheers and sobs grew faint. Space bent. The air itself folded around him.

When his feet touched the ground again, he found himself in a vast, circular chamber. The room was lined with murals, painted in stunning, tragic detail.

He looked closer. And his breath caught.

The murals depicted the same battlefield he had just fought on.

Only this time, they showed what had happened originally.

Without him.

The soldiers had held for a while. Brave. Steadfast. But they were overwhelmed. Slaughtered. One by one.

Then came the civilians. Families running through rubble. Mothers shielding their children. Elders crawling.

The insectoids descended.

Feiyin saw the massacre unfold before him in silent color. Hundreds of thousands, gone.

And in the final mural... the Star Fist Saint descended from the sky. Too late. His fist shattered the sky and killed the being Feiyin had seen, but only after the city had burned. Only after it was already too late.

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Feiyin stood still, heart thudding.

"If we had someone like you then," a voice said beside him, "this tragedy might have been prevented."

Feiyin turned. The spirit of the trial stood nearby. Cloaked in translucent light, its form shifting like smoke. Eyes ancient. Voice calm.

"You have my respect, cultivator," the spirit said. "You changed what was once written, even if it is but a reproduction."

Feiyin bowed slightly, still taking it all in. "Who are you?"

"I was once one of the guardians of the Dynasty," it said. "In life, I reached the threshold of ascension to the Arcane Celestial Realm, but failed at the final moment. Rather than let my soul scatter, I offered it to the Empire, and was preserved to oversee these trials after its fall."

Feiyin remained silent. Listening.

"For your performance," the spirit continued, "you may select up to three rewards. Ask for what you need. If it is within my reach, I will provide it."

Feiyin closed his eyes.

What did he need?

He thought of his friends. Of Ren. Of Yue. Of Mo. Of the Runeweaver Circle. Of the others still trapped under the control of the Sect Master. That parasite...

"I want a way to save my companion," he said. "A way to remove the Heart-Devouring Worm from their bodies without killing them. I've studied alchemy, I believe it's possible... with the right pill."

The spirit went still.

Then... rage.

The air hummed.

"That kind of technique," it said, voice trembling, "should have been destroyed. The empire hunted every last practitioner of it. To hear it has resurfaced..."

Feiyin stood firm. "Can you help me?"

"Your idea is sound," the spirit said. "But impractical. A runic pill must be refined and prepared for each person. it is both slow and risky."

The spirit raised a hand, and an illusion formed.

A runic artifact appeared, circular, elegant, etched with deeply intricate carvings that pulsed faintly with essence. It took the form of a shield, old yet unmarred, exuding a quiet strength.

"This," the spirit said, "is the Earth Shield, a Runic artifact created to demonstrate the integration of a divine-level defensive rune, one that was once bestowed directly by the heavens. It is not designed for purification, but it represents how heavenly runes can function when bound to an artifact."

Feiyin's gaze sharpened, realization blooming in his mind.

"Instead of crafting dozens of individual runic pills," the spirit said, "imagine refining a single artifact inscribed with the right rune. With that, you could reproduce the same effect again and again, efficiently and safely. At least, that was the best way we found back then, when we had to purge the parasites from entire cities."

Feiyin looked up. "Do you still have the artefact you used to purge them?"

"No, only this one remains," the spirit replied. "And it is far too dangerous for you to wield at your current level. But I will let you examine it closely. Study the runic structure. Let it expand your understanding. This won't count against your three chosen rewards."

Feiyin nodded, overwhelmed but determined. "Then... for my first reward, I want enough of that mild essence to reach the Elemental Infusion phase."

"Mild Essence personally refined by someone who opened his fourth chakra is indeed suitable for your level. Granted."

A glowing orb appeared. Pure, calm essence pulsed within.

"Second," Feiyin continued, "I want comprehensive knowledge. Everything about the next realms. Their dangers, their limits, their methods."

"A wise choice, though I will only be able to grant you such knowledge up to the first opened Chakra, as too much will only hold you back."

A blue jade slip appeared in the air beside the orb.

"And third... I want comprehensive knowledge on alchemy, for both pills and artifacts, including recipes and methods."

The spirit chuckled. "Greedy. But fitting."

A jade slip joined the first, this one being purple.

"Use them well," the spirit said at last. "You have earned them. But rest, Feiyin. Even the worthy need time to breathe."

Feiyin hesitated, then looked up. "Before you go, can I ask one last thing? Can I ask how such a strong empire fell?"

The spirit paused, the light of its form dimming momentarily, as if weighed by ancient sorrow. "The empire stood for thousands of years, built on the strength of its people and the unity of its vision. But no power is eternal. After the Emperor passed away, the unity that held everything together began to fray. Corruption crept in, not just from outside threats, but from within. Petty ambitions, betrayal, forgotten oaths. When the Hive launched their full invasion, we were already weakened, fractured. By the time we realized the danger, we could no longer hold the line."

It looked at Feiyin, its voice softer. "But the fall of the empire was not the end of its will. These trials were left behind not only to protect the legacy, but to find one who might carry the ember forward. Even in ruins, we hoped someone would come who could understand the weight of responsibility and the meaning of power."

Feiyin lowered his head in quiet thought.

"Rest now, Feiyin. The path ahead of you is long. Use what you've learned well."

With that, the spirit's form faded like morning mist in the rising sun.

Feiyin sat down, pulling some dry rations from his pouch and ate slowly, chewing each bite as his thoughts wandered.

He remembered the battlefield. The civilians. The soldiers who stood beside him. And the being that blotted out the sky.

That was power.

And that was the gap he had to cross.

Later, when his body felt more settled and the mental fatigue from everything he had endured finally weighted on his eyelids, Feiyin curled up on the stone floor and closed his eyes. Sleep came easily, deep and still.

When he woke, feeling clearer, calmer, and no longer weighed down by the toll the trials had taken on his mind, he reached for the orb of pure essence.

It glowed in his hands, mild, luminous, and calm.

He began to cultivate.