While Zhang Wei was deep in his room, surrounded by divine projections as the Pill King's broken alchemy furnace was being restored and merged with the System, somewhere across the city beneath the dim light of a flickering antique lamp, A quiet commotion stirred in an old curio shop.
The shop, cramped and overflowing with ancient goods, bore the musty scent of incense and lacquered wood. Scrolls curled with time lined the walls, and porcelain eyes of dusty statues stared blankly into the space. Among them stood an old man stooped, his beard like flowing silver thread, his long robe swaying with each movement, giving him the air of a learned sage from forgotten dynasties.
This was Mu Lao, an esteemed figure in the world of collectors, a man whose passion for ancient artifacts and spiritual relics spanned decades. To scholars, he was a master of esoterica; to hunters of the old world, a silent gatekeeper to long-lost treasures.
Standing beside him, however, was a contrast that stole the breath from the air.
A girl, young and poised, held herself with an almost surreal elegance. Her striking crimson-red hair cascaded past her shoulders like silk drenched in twilight. Her orange-yellow eyes, lined with faint golden strands, shimmered like embers in a dying sun mysterious, warm, yet impossible to look away from. She wore a long mandarin coat, subtly embroidered with vermilion phoenixes, the fabric hugging her graceful form like it was tailored by the stars themselves. Her every movement exuded the quiet confidence of a noble flame.
This was Mu Shiyu, the granddaughter of Mu Lao.
Despite her youth, her bearing was regal each step deliberate, each glance thoughtful. A strange aura clung to her, equal parts allure and danger, as if she stood somewhere between heaven and fate. Her beauty was not loud, yet it made time slow for those who noticed.
The shopkeeper Uncle Wang, a hunched figure with rough hands and a perpetually furrowed brow looked nervous.
"You said… you had a collection of wooden statues from the Journey to the West?" Mu Lao asked, his voice calm yet firm, each word flowing like an old bell echoing in a temple.
Uncle Wang scratched the back of his neck, uneasy. "Ah… yes, Elder Mu. But I… I sold them already."
"To whom?" Mu Shiyu asked, her voice clear and melodious, like a wind chime struck by destiny itself.
"Well… it was a young man. A bit taller than me. Good build. Looked sharp handsome too, sharp eyes, confident," Uncle Wang said, rubbing his chin as he tried to recall. "He picked them up quickly… seemed to know what he was looking at. Didn't even bargain much. Paid in full."
Mu Lao and Mu Shiyu exchanged a glance, subtle yet deliberate.
"Uncle Wang," Mu Lao said, smiling faintly, "If that young man ever comes back… call me at once."
Mu Shiyu gave the old man a polite nod before turning gracefully, her coat fluttering behind her like a crimson phoenix taking flight.
Uncle Wang bowed slightly as the two left the shop, the little brass bell above the door chiming softly.
The night outside had deepened. Above, the stars blinked in silence, and somewhere far away, a new fate was taking shape.
Back in his room, Zhang Wei's body lay still, cold sweat beading his forehead. His breathing was shallow.
Dark mist coiled faintly around him, and the room flickered as though caught between two worlds. The alchemy furnace had completed its assimilation, but what followed was far more profound.
The bloodlines of the Azure Dragon (Qinglong), Vermillion Phoenix (Zhuque), White Tiger (Baihu), and Black Tortoise (Xuanwu) were tearing through his veins, merging violently with the hidden truth within his soul.
Golden runes spun around his consciousness. His bones groaned. His skin rippled with invisible forces.
Zhang Wei had fallen unconscious, his mind pulled into a world of chaos and creation, birth and annihilation.
What lay ahead would change everything.