---
The wind had settled into a strange hush over the outer sect grounds. Ash stood silently beside the cracked training platform, his eyes fixed on the faint pattern of blood that had long since dried. It was his own—shed in a sparring match just weeks ago. But now, everything had changed.
Whispers. Eyes. Judgment.
He could feel the shift in how others looked at him—some with suspicion, others with fear, and a few with something else entirely. Interest. Greed.
Not even the elders had said anything directly, but their presence loomed heavier in recent days. Disciples talked behind their hands. The strange surge of qi during the failed suppression had not gone unnoticed. And now… even the winds carried his name.
Ash.
Ash the cursed.
Ash the one who survived the Sea Binding Formation.
Even though the truth remained buried—how he'd truly emerged from the abyss, and what that place beneath the sea had shown him—rumors bloomed like wildfire.
He didn't care. Not anymore.
What mattered now was strength.
"Ash." A familiar voice broke his thoughts.
Zanab.
She stood a few paces away, her robe slightly rumpled as if she had rushed. Her dark eyes scanned his expression with quiet intensity.
"You missed the morning cultivation assembly," she said.
Ash gave a small nod. "I was busy meditating."
Her gaze lingered. "You've changed."
He turned to face her fully. "Everyone changes. Some just faster than others."
Zanab stepped closer, then sat beside the cracked stone edge. "There's a rumor going around. That you survived the Sea Binding because of an ancient inheritance."
"I didn't." His reply was curt. Cold.
She studied him. "But you survived. And that… that means something, Ash. No one comes back from that place. The elders say it's a dead zone, a remnant of a war older than even our sect's founding."
Ash's eyes narrowed. The sea. The memories. The voice.
A dark mist. Screaming souls. Chains wrought from divine ore. The pressure of an ancient formation etched into the bones of the world. That was no ordinary prison. It had been meant to bury a monster.
No, not just any monster.
A cultivator who had turned to something forbidden. A devil path practitioner. A forgotten name whose power once challenged entire sect alliances—sealed beneath endless pressure and divine seals.
He had heard the voice. He had touched the edges of that presence.
And it had noticed him in return.
Ash clenched his fists.
"Did you... hear anything strange down there?" Zanab asked, voice softer now.
He hesitated. "Voices. Memories. Perhaps echoes of what was once alive."
Zanab's brows furrowed. "Ash… are you still yourself?"
He didn't answer.
She shifted closer. "Look, I don't know what's happened. But if something's wrong, you can tell me. You're not alone in this sect."
The concern in her voice stirred something in him—a tether to the world above the sea, to the friends he once trusted. But trust was a fragile thing, and right now, he could trust no one.
Not even himself.
Ash stood. "I need to cultivate."
Zanab watched him walk away, the weight of something unspoken settling between them.
---
Later that night, beneath the pale moonlight, Ash sat cross-legged atop the cliff behind the inner cultivation valley. The wind whispered over the jagged rocks and scattered leaves, yet his heart was anything but calm.
His dantian pulsed, the qi within oddly turbulent. Since his return, the spiritual energy around him had become easier to absorb—too easy, almost greedy. It slithered toward him, clung to his meridians, forced its way deeper. It was not the normal flow of energy but something darker. Wilder.
It had started after he accidentally touched the remnants of the sealing formation at the ocean floor.
A fragment. A glimpse. A curse.
"Still haunted, are you?"
Ash's eyes snapped open.
Standing just beyond the shadows was a man in deep blue robes—Elder Faiz, the sect's Formation Hall deputy, and an expert in suppressive arrays.
"You've been attracting a lot of attention lately, disciple," Faiz said, stepping closer. "And not all of it good."
Ash bowed faintly. "Elder."
Faiz's gaze flickered over Ash's form. "Your spiritual flow is… irregular. Have you experienced any resistance in channeling your techniques?"
Ash considered lying, but nodded. "Yes."
"Hmm. You should come to the Formation Hall. I suspect some lingering remnant has followed you back. You don't understand what kind of ancient formation exists beneath that sea, do you?"
Ash's jaw tensed. "I saw… something. A man, chained beneath the abyss. His eyes burned red. His presence felt… alive."
Faiz's expression tightened. "So the rumors were true."
"You knew?"
"There are things the sect does not speak of openly. Some truths, when voiced, awaken watchers." Faiz glanced at the moon. "Centuries ago, a cultivator who walked the devil path sought immortality through slaughter. He fused with ancient runes, broke a dozen heavenly bindings, and nearly shattered the Dao of Balance. He was too strong to kill, so they sealed him instead—beneath the ocean, under nine divine formations."
Ash remained silent.
"He's not dead," Faiz said. "But dreaming. Waiting. And something about your return... worries me. The sea does not give back freely."
Before Ash could speak, Faiz placed a glowing talisman on his chest. Cold energy surged into his body, slowing the frantic spiritual currents.
"You're part of something now, Ash. Something vast. Be careful what you pursue."
With that, Faiz disappeared into the night.
---
Back in his courtyard, Ash stood before a worn training post. He struck once—twice—then poured raw qi into his palm and smashed it into splinters. He needed more power. Faster progression. More control.
He reached into his robes and drew out a black fragment—smooth and cold, etched with ancient runes. He had hidden it since his return.
A shard of the sea's prison.
He didn't know why he took it.
But it called to him.
Ash sat down, drew a deep breath, and began meditating, the shard resting on his palm. His qi spiraled unnaturally, drawn toward the fragment. The world faded, his vision spiraling into darkness.
He stood once again beneath the sea. Chains trembled. A single red eye opened.
"You returned…" a voice echoed in his mind.
Ash staggered back, screaming in silence. Then—darkness.
He awoke gasping. The shard lay on the ground, steaming.
And on his palm, a faint mark remained—red, like an ancient seal.
---
Chapter 21 Ends.
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