"As I was saying," Tian Jue Dui began once more, his voice calm, matter-of-fact—like he was lecturing on the weather, "the Martial Spirit of your clan, the Clear Flow Hammer, is a very degraded and limited version of the Clear Sky Hammer. However, the reason for its degradation isn't just time or poor cultivation. No… it's unfathomably bad luck."
Qiang Ming blinked. That phrase—unfathomably bad luck—hit harder than it should've. It sounded ridiculous. But something in Tian Jue Dui's tone, in the casual confidence of a man who knew far more than he let on, rooted the words with a kind of terrible gravity.
His brows furrowed, and his pace slowed only a little.
He had heard hundreds of theories, of course. His entire clan had obsessed over the mystery. They had entire shelves—two whole libraries—dedicated to trying to understand what had gone wrong. Spiritual degradation, impurity, diluted inheritance, parasitic energy, even temporal disruptions. They had explored science, alchemy, lost arts, and obscure histories.
But never, not once, had anyone considered luck as the primary factor.
"Somewhere in your lineage, thousands of years ago," Tian Jue Dui continued as he led the way toward a looming mountain and the gaping mouth of a massive cave etched into its side, "one of your ancestors got… lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you want to see it."
His voice remained almost amused, like the whole story was a cosmic joke only he was in on.
"That ancestor must have encountered a hundred-thousand-year-old beast that had taken human form—either willingly or under duress—and mated with her. That single act rewrote the path of your entire clan. The Clear Flow Clan of today is the result of that union's lineage."
Qiang Ming's eyes widened, his stride faltered.
"You're saying the Clear Flow Clan are hybrids?"
"No," Tian Jue Dui corrected. "I'm saying you are the aftermath of a war. A war inside your blood."
As they walked closer to the cave, the weight of Tian Jue Dui's words began to settle on Qiang Ming's shoulders.
"The Clear Sky Hammer and the beast's spiritual inheritance clashed in every single generation that followed. Two incompatible bloodlines, battling for manifestation. The Clear Sky Hammer won, barely, but at a price. Each generation, the spirit degraded more. Every birth was a coin toss with worse and worse odds. Eventually, the mighty hammer dulled into the Clear Flow Hammer… and then came your infamous Rank 30 Curse. The spiritual lineage collapsing under the weight of its own conflict."
A chill ran down Qiang Ming's spine. The implications of that were… staggering. His clan's centuries-long decline wasn't caused by external enemies or poor decisions. It was a slow, inevitable unraveling written into their very marrow.
His voice was tight, unsure.
"How do you even know all of this?"
"Because I'm me," Tian Jue Dui said simply, with a shrug. "And because I had access to the original. That makes all the difference."
They were now nearing the mouth of the massive cave. The air had shifted—grown thicker, heavier, charged with an ancient pressure that made even Qiang Ming's skin prickle. He could feel something watching them from within. Something old. Powerful.
"So…" he asked, his voice low, wary. "What happened to the beast's spirit?"
Tian Jue Dui's steps didn't falter.
"It lost the war," he said, almost sadly. "It was driven into slumber, buried deep within the bloodline. But it never left. It remained… just awake enough to curse the blood, to corrode it. A dormant poison. Had it been anyone else, they never would've identified it, let alone cured it."
He looked over his shoulder and smirked.
"But I'm not anyone else."
Then, more softly—
"And neither are you."
They came to a stop.
Before them was the mouth of the cave. The shadows inside were vast and endless, but something stirred within them. The silence was oppressive.
Tian Jue Dui gave him a glance, eyes gleaming.
"Go on. Ask it."
Qiang Ming hesitated for only a second.
"What beast was it?" he asked. "And more importantly, how do you plan to fix it?"
Tian Jue Dui stepped forward, raising a hand in grandiose theatricality.
"Well, the beast was the famous—"
ROOOAAAAAR!!
The cave exploded with sound.
A thunderous roar tore through the air, reverberating in the bones of the mountain itself. The pressure hit Qiang Ming like a tidal wave. He stumbled back half a step on instinct, eyes widening as the shadows in the cave twisted and unfurled.
A monstrous figure stepped into view.
The creature that emerged was regal, terrifying in its majesty. It was a lion, but larger than any normal beast—easily the size of a small house. Its fur shimmered with a golden luster, but its mane was streaked with crimson and silver. Most notably, its forelegs ended not in paws, but draconic claws, and in the center of its forehead, above its sharp and intelligent golden eyes, was a third eye, gleaming like a blood-red gemstone.
Qiang Ming could hardly breathe.
A Three Eyed Golden Lion.
The beast's eyes narrowed in suspicion—until they locked with Tian Jue Dui's.
Recognition passed between them.
The tension broke.
The lion's shoulders slumped, and it released a long, exhausted sigh. Its third eye closed briefly, then opened once more. Its deep voice rumbled through the air like distant thunder.
"It's time?"
Tian Jue Dui nodded solemnly. For the first time, the cocky smirk was gone from his face.
"It is. I've come to ask that favor you once promised. My disciple needs your help. A very… direct kind of help."
The lion looked to Qiang Ming, its gaze no longer suspicious but piercing—measuring.
Then it turned back to Tian Jue Dui and nodded.
"So be it. My life, and more importantly, the life of my entire Pride, exists today only because of you. Had you not intervened all those years ago, we would have shared the fate of our kin in the other continents—extinction."
The weight of the exchange hung heavy in the air.
Qiang Ming stood silent.
He was watching a conversation between beings who operated on a scale utterly beyond his comprehension.
But one thing was clear: this wasn't just about solving a bloodline issue.
This was a pivotal moment, where legacies collided—and his future was being rewritten before his eyes.
He swallowed hard.
And kept walking.