NOVEL NEXT Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Dark Reckoning
The Zhen family estate thrummed with uneasy energy as the announcement of the upcoming trials echoed across its grand halls. Servants whispered rumors, heirs schemed, and shadows danced in corners where secrets festered. Yet amidst the chaos, Zhen Yang was unshaken. In his secluded chambers, he stood by the window, watching the dark clouds roll in over the horizon.
His memories had begun to resurface—not entirely, but in fragments sharp enough to pierce through the haze of his current life. The surge of recollections brought clarity to his purpose, and his gaze was colder than ever.
In the heart of the estate, Elder Zhen Xuan convened a meeting with the inner circle. The room was dimly lit, a single lantern casting flickering shadows over the stern faces of the elders.
"The trials will be held in three days," Elder Xuan announced, his voice low and commanding. "Each heir must demonstrate their worth. Strength, cunning, and loyalty will be tested."
"And Zhen Yang?" another elder asked, skepticism lacing his tone. "The boy has changed. He's... unpredictable."
Elder Xuan's expression darkened. "If he proves a threat, we will handle him. The family's stability comes first."
Zhen Yang's preparation was unconventional. While others trained openly in the courtyards or sought the guidance of tutors, he delved into the abyssal techniques etched into his mind. The faint echoes of his second life—as the Abyssal Sovereign—guided him. Within the privacy of his chambers, he traced forbidden sigils into the air, their crimson light casting an eerie glow.
He had no desire for the patriarchal seat, yet the trials offered an opportunity—a stage to sow the seeds of his ultimate plan.
Three days passed in a blur, and the day of the trials dawned under a sky heavy with storm clouds. The heirs gathered in the sprawling arena behind the estate, their faces a mix of determination and concealed fear. Elders watched from elevated platforms, their presence a silent reminder of the stakes.
Zhen Yang stood apart, his demeanor calm yet unyielding. He wore a simple black robe, its edges embroidered with faint crimson patterns that seemed to shift under the light.
The first trial was announced: combat. A test of strength and skill, where each heir would face a series of opponents—human and otherwise.
Zhen Yang's turn came swiftly. His opponents were formidable, but to him, they were mere obstacles. The first challenger lunged with a blade, their movements swift and precise. Yet Zhen Yang's response was quicker. He sidestepped effortlessly, delivering a single, devastating strike that sent his opponent sprawling.
The crowd murmured in surprise. Each successive opponent fell with similar ease. It wasn't just Zhen Yang's power that unnerved them—it was the calculated efficiency with which he dismantled his foes. No wasted movements. No hesitation. Only ruthless precision.
The final opponent was a monstrous spirit beast—a towering creature with obsidian scales and eyes like molten gold. It roared, shaking the very ground. Zhen Yang didn't flinch. As the beast charged, he extended a hand, crimson energy swirling around his palm. The air crackled as a lance of abyssal power shot forth, piercing the beast's heart. It collapsed with a thunderous crash, its lifeless form smoking.
The arena fell silent. Zhen Yang turned to the elders, his expression unreadable. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Elder Zhen Xuan's face was a mask of controlled fury. He saw the fear spreading among the other heirs and the subtle admiration in the eyes of some elders. This boy—no, this force—was becoming a problem.
Later that night, Zhen Yang sat cross-legged in his chambers, meditating. The abyssal energy within him pulsed steadily, a stark contrast to the volatile storm brewing outside. He opened his eyes, the crimson glow faint but unwavering.
A knock at the door broke his focus.
"Enter," he said, his tone neutral.
The door creaked open, revealing a young servant who bowed deeply. "Young master, a message has arrived for you. It's... unusual."
Zhen Yang took the sealed scroll, dismissing the servant with a nod. The seal was black wax, marked with an unfamiliar sigil. Breaking it, he unrolled the parchment. The message was brief but chilling:
The shadows watch, and the abyss remembers. Prepare, Sovereign.
His grip tightened on the scroll, the words resonating with an unsettling familiarity. The whispers in his mind stirred faintly, but they carried no malice—only anticipation.
A smirk played on Zhen Yang's lips. "So, the game begins."
In the depths of the Zhen estate, Elder Zhen Xuan met with a cloaked figure in a hidden chamber. The room was bare except for a single table and two chairs. The flickering light of a lone candle cast sinister shadows.
"He's stronger than we anticipated," Elder Xuan admitted, his voice low. "If we don't act now, he'll become unstoppable."
The cloaked figure chuckled, a raspy sound that sent shivers down Xuan's spine. "Do not fear, Elder. The boy may be powerful, but even the strongest can fall. Leave him to me."
Elder Xuan hesitated, then nodded. "See that you don't fail. The future of the Zhen family depends on it."
As the figure disappeared into the shadows, Elder Xuan's unease grew. He had taken drastic measures before, but this time felt different—more dangerous.
Back in his chambers, Zhen Yang felt the storm outside intensify. Thunder rumbled, and lightning illuminated the night sky. He stared out the window, his mind calculating his next move.
"Let them come," he murmured, the smirk returning. "They'll learn soon enough. The abyss isn't something you challenge lightly."
As the storm raged on, the shadows in his room seemed to deepen, coiling around him like a protective shroud. The Abyssal Sovereign was not one to be trifled with, and his enemies would soon understand the cost of their defiance.