Echoes of the Hollow Domain

The silver light faded.

The air still trembled.

A laugh.

Thin.

Cracking.

"Keybearer… Keybearer…

This is your chosen one?"

The voice —

cold.

Childish.

Laced with adult malice.

All froze.

A slender figure flickered into the council's heart.

Wu Mian Tong Sheng.

Faceless Student.

That blank, pale face turned.

Smiling.

His voice —

sharp as frost.

"Lingyuan's Keybearer?

A hollow shell.

The real one?

Erased.

You fear him.

You fear the key…

might be the lock."

The chamber stirred.

Jian Sanmeng of Nansheng Sect rose.

Her gaze — steady.

Her voice cut through the hall:

"Chu Sect filth.

Trespass into Lingyuan's council…

Violate its laws!

No Chu Yin Gui to speak for you?

You crawl in alone to disrupt order?

Nansheng Sect may not be part of the Five Orders —

but as Lingyuan's invited overseer of dream curses —

I will act."

Then she moved.

Fast.

Her seals snapped.

Nine dreams.

"Lock."

Wu Mian Tong Sheng met her.

Head-on.

His hand slashed his face.

Blood curses roared:

"Dreams intervein — fake face."

The chamber ruptured.

— BOOM.

Ling Chuzhou almost drew his sword.

But paused.

Only watching —

cold.

Ruan Linghe chuckled:

"Lingyuan can't even restrain a phantom.

Your Keybearer…

what a fine ornament."

Mingjue Chan murmured sutras.

A funeral rite.

Qi Ming Heng rose.

A hand.

Seven mirrors unfolded.

Sealed.

Seven Mirror Seal.

Trapped.

But Wu Mian Tong Sheng still laughed:

"Keybearers…

dead stones you cling to.

I'll wait…

to watch the Key devour you."

Gone.

Silence.

Luo Qinghan lowered her gaze.

This was far from over.

—

The seven mirrors returned.

The phantom faded.

Qi Ming Heng lowered his hand.

His gaze swept the chamber.

Still.

Unmoved.

His voice —

soft.

But absolute.

"This council —

ends here.

Yao Abyss remains under Lingyuan's seal.

The Keybearer's role —

no debate.

If the Five Orders object…

you may take it to the Divine Court."

A verdict.

The Five Gates simmered.

Shang Luhan sheathed the rod.

His voice —

flat.

"Then the Five Orders will report this…

as is."

"But if your Keybearer falters…"

"Lingyuan—

will not leave without trouble."

Ruan Linghe fanned himself.

Still smiling:

"If chaos spreads,

the world will see."

Mingjue Chan whispered sutras.

A death rite.

Ling Chuzhou stayed silent.

But as he left, his words cut cold:

"The Keybearer…

is no light burden."

The council dissolved.

Luo Qinghan watched them go.

Felt the cold.

She whispered:

"The Keybearer…

is just an excuse.

What they want…

is Lingyuan itself."

Shen Jin said nothing.

But he knew.

Today —

was not an ending.

It was only the first move

of a longer game.

—

Night.

Heavy.

The outer courtyard stood silent beyond the council hall.

Shen Jin sat beneath the eaves.

Staring at the silhouette of the Lingyuan Stele in the dark.

His fingers —

tracing the cold brand upon his palm.

"Keybearer…"

He murmured.

Like tasting a word he didn't yet understand.

Luo Qinghan approached.

The scroll of the council still in her hands.

They looked at each other.

Silence stretched.

Shen Jin finally asked:

"Do you… believe in the Keybearer?"

Luo Qinghan paused.

Her voice —

low.

Distant:

"Belief… doesn't matter."

Shen Jin raised a brow:

"Doesn't matter?"

Luo Qinghan's gaze drifted to the stele in the dark:

"I'm of Jing Sect.

Lingyuan sent me to record.

That's all.

The Keybearer… is none of my concern."

Shen Jin fell silent.

His voice —

soft.

But sharp:

"Then what is the Keybearer?

A key?

Or a lock?"

She said nothing.

Only looked at him.

Like a block of cold, uncut jade.

After a long pause, she turned to leave.

Her voice trailed:

"Don't you already know the answer?"

Shen Jin watched her go.

His hand pressed the mark.

His breath —

warm.

But the mark —

cold.

That heat —

Was it his own?

Or the stele's?

No one knew.

Only the night remained.

And the stele's shadow

lingered like a dream.

—

Beneath the heart of the Lingyuan Division,

far from sun or breath,

was the Stele Vault.

The room had no windows.

Its walls were made of etched bone and silence.

Even sound, once uttered, never echoed back.

Here, they placed Shen Jin.

He sat on a stone slab, cold as judgment.

His gaze drifted forward —

not unfocused,

but tethered to the mark glowing faintly on his palm.

The stele was dormant.

No heat.

No pulse.

As if it had decided to go deaf,

even to him.

Each time he tried to stir his breath into flow,

the circuit of energy broke upon the mark,

as if it no longer recognized its bearer.

The barrier rippled.

Qi Ming Heng appeared behind it.

He did not cross the threshold.

He never needed to.

His voice cut cleanly through the veil:

"The anomaly of the Keybearer

is no longer private.

You will remain here.

Await investigation."

Shen Jin raised his eyes.

"House arrest?"

Qi Ming Heng neither confirmed nor denied.

"The Dream Wardens will oversee your subconscious."

A pause.

Then —

"Luo Qinghan is no longer permitted to approach you."

Without another word,

he turned and vanished beyond the spellwork.

The seals hummed closed.

Darkness returned.

Shen Jin exhaled once.

Pressed his fingers to the cold brand.

It was still.

But not silent.

A light stirred inside the glyphs —

thin as breath.

Gray as ash.

He understood.

They didn't fear he would fail.

They feared

he no longer belonged to them.