The Broken Heaven's Path

Curiosity sparked in Feng's chest, pushing him forward. He stumbled through the underbrush, ignoring the branches that scratched at his face and arms.

The faint pulsing glow in the distance grew brighter with every step, bathing the dark forest in an eerie silver light.

The shadows seemed to shift and dance as if alive, but Feng's focus remained fixed on the mysterious source of the light.

Finally, he broke through the dense foliage into a small clearing and froze. At the center stood an ancient stone altar, weathered and cracked with age.

Vines snaked along its surface, but they didn't conceal the intricate runes etched into the stone. The runes glowed faintly, their light pulsating in perfect sync with the rhythm of Feng's heartbeat.

"What is this…?" Feng whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum that filled the clearing.

The altar seemed to resonate in response, emitting a low vibration that he felt deep in his bones. The sound wasn't natural—it was alive, like a whisper from something ancient and waiting.

Feng's breath caught as he stepped closer, the air growing thick with an energy he couldn't name. It wasn't qi as he understood it; it was darker, heavier, and far older than anything he'd ever heard of.

He reached out hesitantly, his fingers trembling as they hovered inches above the stone. Before he could touch it, a voice echoed in his mind.

It was deep, resonant, and filled with a commanding authority that made his knees weak.

"Careful boy, if you do not wish to die, Although Broken Souls like you die eventually."

The voice wasn't harsh, but it carried a weight that pressed down on Feng's very soul. He staggered back, his heart racing.

The glow of the altar flared briefly, illuminating the entire clearing in blinding light before dimming once more.

Silence followed, the hum subsiding, but Feng's chest felt tight as the warmth of the voice lingered in his mind.

"What… what? Did I hear something? I've never heard of there being an altar here? he murmured, but no answer came.

The rain began to fall again, softly at first, the drops pattering against the leaves above. Feng remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the altar.

His thoughts raced as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. For the first time in his life, he felt something stir deep within him.

It wasn't the Heaven's Pact he had longed for, but it was something. A spark. A possibility.

His fists clenched. The villagers thought he was worthless. The Heavens had abandoned him. But maybe—just maybe—there was another path.

"I'm not done yet," he whispered, his voice steady despite the storm that was beginning to intensify. "I'll find out what this is. I'll take whatever power I can get."

The wind howled as if in response to his declaration, and Feng's determination solidified.

He took a step closer to the altar, this time letting his hand rest on the cold, rough surface. The runes flickered faintly, but nothing else happened.

"Was I hallucinating?" Disappointment threatened to creep in, but he shoved it aside.

"I knew I heard something, there must be something I'm missing here"

And yet the rain grew stronger and he started to shiver, he knew that if he stayed here he would die from the cold before being eaten by any spirit beasts.

"I'll come back here later, maybe I can figure something out"

He turned and began to make his way back into the forest, glancing over his shoulder at the altar one last time.

He didn't know where this path would lead, but he would follow it to the end.

"I just hope I don't die tonight" Feng murmured

The forest seemed darker and more oppressive now, the shadows stretching further as the storm raged on.

Feng trudged through the mud, his body aching from the day's ordeal.

The encounter with the altar replayed in his mind, the words ringing louder with every step he took.

Broken Souls like you die eventually.

"Me? Die?" Feng frowned, his fingers brushing the bark of a nearby tree to steady himself.

The weight of those words hung heavy on him, filling him with bitter anger.

He paused to catch his breath, leaning against the trunk of a massive oak.

The rain had soaked through his clothes, chilling him to the bone.

His gaze shifted upward, searching for any sign of shelter.

The thick canopy above offered little relief from the downpour, but a large hollow in the base of a nearby tree caught his eye.

Grateful for even a small reprieve, Feng crawled into the hollow.

The space was cramped and damp, but it was better than standing out in the storm.

He hugged his knees to his chest, shivering as he tried to gather his thoughts.

His mind wandered back to the altar. The runes, the voice, the feeling of power in the air—it all felt surreal. What had he stumbled upon? And why had it spoken to him?

Feng's eyelids grew heavy as exhaustion began to take hold.

The events of the day had drained him, and despite the cold and discomfort, sleep crept up on him.

His last thought before darkness claimed him was of the altar and the mysterious power it seemed to promise.

Feng's dreams were vivid and strange. He stood in an endless void, surrounded by swirling shadows and faint whispers.

The air was thick with an oppressive energy, and yet, he didn't feel afraid.

A figure emerged from the darkness, its form shifting and indistinct, like smoke given shape.

"What are you looking at boy?" the figure asked, its voice echoing in the void.

Feng felt suffocated, it seemed like the person behind the voice had enough power to end him in an instant, and yet he felt frustration.

If he was going to die anyways, he would rather die standing on his two feet than kneeling and begging for life.

"I want to get stronger" he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest. "I'll do whatever it takes"

The figure's form twisted, a deep chuckle reverberating through the void.

"You look scared boy but at least you're not groveling, not everyone can do something like that, but power is not given freely, and freedom from the heavens… has its price."

Before Feng could respond, the shadows surged toward him, engulfing him in darkness.

He felt a searing pain in his chest, as though something was being torn away. His scream echoed in the void, and then—

He woke with a gasp, his heart pounding as he clutched his chest. The hollow was still, the storm outside reduced to a gentle drizzle.

Feng's breaths came in ragged gasps as he tried to process the dream. His hand moved instinctively to his chest, where a faint warmth lingered beneath his skin.

"What… was that?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

The memory of the dream lingered, sharper than any dream should have been. Feng's gaze drifted toward the forest beyond his shelter.

The altar's glow was gone, and he didn't feel the same amount of pressure as when he first encountered it.

"The old monster must be gone" Feng thought to himself as he rubbed his chest