Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Several months had passed since the party.

Deep below the palace foundations, in a wide stone room carved from the bedrock, there was no sound except for the slow, steady drip of water somewhere in the dark.

At the center of the chamber stood a round stone platform, three steps high, carved with old lines that ran inward like the spokes of a wagon wheel.

Sitting in the middle of it, cross-legged on the cold gray stone, was Ling Luochen.

Her back was straight, her hands resting flat on her knees, her eyes closed in deep focus.

Her breathing was slow and even, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the stillness of the room.

Haoran stood at the foot of the steps, his hands tucked loosely inside the wide white sleeves of his robe, his gaze resting upon her with quiet attention.

”So is everything ready?” asked Haoran as he stared at Ling Luochen who sat on an altar.

Ling Luochen did not open her eyes, but her chin gave a small, firm nod.

”Everything is prepared, Young Master,” she answered, her voice steady and clear in the damp silence. ”The system says that the time has come.”

In the space between her thoughts, where only she could see, the small blue square blinked once, its soft light brightening until it filled her whole view.

[LUCK ACCUMULATION: 100% REACHED.]

[INITIATING FORTUNE RECONSTRUCTION PROTOCOL.]

The air in the room suddenly grew heavy, like the moments right before a summer thunderstorm breaks over a dry plain.

From every corner of the Ancient Heaven Star—from the deep roots of the ancient spirit trees in the southern woods, from the clean mountain rivers running down the eastern hills, from the wide green plains guarded by the Sun warriors, and from the deep dark stone beneath the northern peaks—a warm, seven colored mist began to seep up through the dirt.

It moved through the cracks in the walls, floating into the cellar like thin threads of spun sunlight.

It was the quiet favor of the land itself.

It was the good fortune that had rested in the soil for thousands of winters, the unseen blessing that protected children in their cradles, kept crops from rotting in the rain, and helped lost travelers find their way home in the dark.

For two whole years, the core had rested in the dirt, breathing slowly, taking only the smallest drops of morning dew and evening mist so as not to hurt the living things on the surface.

Now, all those tiny drops had gathered into a steady, glowing stream.

The kaleidoscopic mist drifted toward the round platform, circling Ling Luochen’s sitting form in a wide, lazy ring.

Then, it began to sink into her skin.

It did not burn like fire, nor did it bite like winter frost, instead, it entered her through her pores, warm and gentle, like stepping into a hot bath after a long walk through the snow.

Her dark clothes rustled softly as the light passed through the cloth.

Beneath her skin, the change was deep and thorough.

The dark tribal marks of the Descending Asura Demonic Physique, which had slept silently along the bones of her spine for two years, twitched as the seven colored air touched them.

At first, the old demon blood tried to push back, snarling like a wild dog cornered in a dark alley.

But the mist did not attack. It simply flowed around the dark ink, smoothing down the rough edges, wrapping around the sharp thorns of her anger, and washing the bitter stains from her inner channels.

Her bones began to hum with a soft, clear tone, sounding like dry wood settling in the warmth of a hearth.

The gray dust left behind by years of hard, bloody fights was swept clean out of her marrow.

Her blood, once thick and dark with the smell of old iron, turned bright and fresh, pumping through her chest with a strong, clean beat.

The top of her head felt cool, as if someone had poured clear spring water straight through her skull, washing away the fog of her tired memories.

A faint, seven colored ring of light appeared just above her hair, turning slowly, casting a warm glow across her eyelashes and the bridge of her nose.

The rules of this world were writing her name into their book.

From this day forward, if she walked across a dry riverbed, water would bubble up beneath her boots.

If she fell from a high cliff, a sudden draft of wind would catch her hem.

If she swung a blade in the dark, the hand of the sky would steady her wrist.

She was no longer an unwanted guest hiding in the shadows of an enemy sect.

She was a true child of this world’s favor, carrying its blessing wherever she set her feet.

The mist thinned out, the last wisps vanishing into her collarbones.

The humming in the stones died away, leaving the cellar completely quiet once more.

Ling Luochen took a deep, full breath and slowly opened her eyes.

She looked down at her hands, turning her palms up and down.

Her fingers felt light, supple, and strong. The dull ache that had lived deep inside her chest ever since the halberd had pinned her to the stone pillar was gone entirely, as if that wound had belonged to another person in another life.

The blue square in front of her blinked its final message.

[VESSEL REFORGED.]

[STATUS: CHILD OF FORTUNE (BOUND).]

[SUMMONING GATEWAY: ARMED AND READY.]

She stood up from the cold stone, stepping down the three steps, and lowered her head to Haoran.

”It is done, Young Master,” she said softly.

Haoran looked at her, his golden eyes momentarily shining into a seven colored light, before returning to its former golden luster.

He saw it. That bright seven colored light shining around her.

From this moment on, Ling Luochen is now a child of fortune.

”Good,” Haoran said as he turned toward the wooden door leading back to the stairs.

”There is no need to rush it here in the lower realm,” Haoran continued as he walked. ”We will be leaving back to the Academy today anyway, so let’s just summon the players back there. It’s just right, we need more workers in our city.”

”Yes, Young Master,” Ling Luochen replied, falling into step two paces behind his right shoulder, her head respectfully lowered.

Haoran and Ling Luochen both walked out of the room and went to the courtyard of the palace.

*

*

*

The morning sun had finally broken through the mist, spilling bright, warm light across the clean stone avenues.

The grand courtyard of the palace was filled with people, the wide flagstones crowded with familiar faces, baggage carts, and neat rows of weapons.

The students of the Imperial Academy were all there, wearing their neat traveling cloaks over their robes, their storage rings packed full of the treasures, herbs, and books they had gathered over the past two seasons.

Standing alongside them were the local leaders and warriors who had stayed behind to build the new order.

The atmosphere was loud, warm, and full of hearty clatter.

Near the stone steps, Augusta, the current sect master of the Eternal Sun Sect, stood with her arms crossed under her chest.

She was smiling gently, standing in front of Huo Yue and talking with her.

”Take care of the sect for me, Elder,” Huo Yue said, smiling at her. ”If I come back down here and find your temples dirty, I’ll burn down your sect to the ground.”

Augusta smiled wryly, ”...are you really sure you won’t consider inheriting the Sun God’s position? It’s still available you know. No one is more suited than you.”

Huo Yue shook her head, ”No way. Power that can be handed down can also be taken.”

A few paces away, the swordsmen of the Church of Ascalon stood in quiet, straight lines, their gray cloaks hanging still in the wind.

Shen Xinye stood before their village elder, her hands clasped in front of her chest in a formal martial salute.

The old swordsman bowed his head deeply to her, his weathered hands holding an iron scabbard he had polished until it shone like gray water.

There were not many words between them; a simple look and a firm nod were enough to settle the duties of the north.

By the central garden, Zhu Ziyan was scratching the soft feathers beneath the chin of a massive four-winged condor.

The high priest of the Hundred Beast Alliance stood beside her, his dark skull-staff resting on the dirt, murmuring quiet words of respect for the way she had handled the wild packs.

Ziyan smiled, her feline ears twitching as she promised to send down fresh spirit grain for the young beasts every spring.

Ning Xueli and Gu Xunyi were laughing as they waved to a group of young native girls who had served them tea during their stay, tossing small pouches of silver and low-grade jade into their hands like sweets.

As for Ivaraune, he had chosen to stay and become thr guardian of this world and working under the Shen Clan.

But he had given Ning Xueli and Gu Xunyi a method to summon him at their side any time.

Although he has yet to recover, Ivaraune was a genuine Supreme tier being, and with the bloodline of a god, it’s not impossible for him to even compete against an Immortal.

Shen Fei and Shen Tao stood near the baggage carts, double-checking the travel seals, while Shen Ji, Shen Cai and Shen Jian leaned against a pillar, yawning widely, still looking half-asleep from the night’s heavy drinking.

Shen Hei and Shen Bai were helping the others out check and prepare their things.

When Haoran and Ling Luochen stepped out into the bright sunlight, the chatter began to quiet down.

The crowd parted naturally, opening a wide path through the middle of the courtyard.

Every head turned, every back straightened, and the warriors of the tribes placed their right fists over their hearts in silent respect.

Haoran walked with measured, easy steps, his white robes catching the morning breeze.

He stopped near the center of the terrace, looking out over the faces of the people who had followed him into this broken realm and turned it into his family’s property.

He did not give a long speech. He simply gave a brief nod to Augusta, met the eyes of the Ascalon elder, and looked at the tribal chiefs of the southern valleys.

”We will be leaving today,” Haoran said, his voice carrying easily over the quiet crowd. ”Work the fields, tend the arrays, and do your best to develop this world back to its golden age. If trouble comes from the dark, send word through the tablet. The Shen Clan does not forget its own.”

”We will guard the land with our blood!” The elder of the Church of Ascalon roared, thumping his blade against the ground, followed by a loud, earth-shaking cheer from the warriors and the beast-tamers alike.

Haoran nodded and turned his gaze toward the sky above the palace.

Floating just above the highest towers, casting a massive, cooling shadow across the entire valley, was a wooden ship large enough to carry an army.

It was a magnificent vessel built from ancient iron-oak and white celestial pine, its sides reinforced with dark brass plates that carried old protective runes.

Three massive masts reached into the clouds, their sails made of shimmering silver silk that drank in the wind of the upper sky.

Dozens of small landing bridges dropped down from its carved railings, touching the stone terrace with light thuds.

The students gathered their bags, slung their weapons over their shoulders, and began to march up the wooden ramps in neat, orderly files.

Huo Yue was among the first to step onto the deck, her red dress twirling as she leaned over the rail to wave one last time to the friends she had made in the sun temples.

Ning Xueli, Gu Xunyi, and the other young women followed close behind, laughing as they found their private cabins near the stern.

The Ten Crowns marched up with heavy, rhythmic steps.

Ling Luochen walked up the ramp right behind Haoran, her steps light and silent, her eyes looking back one last time at the mountain basin where she had hidden, bled, and nearly died.

There was no sadness in her face, only the quiet relief of a traveler who had finally finished a long, bitter road.

Haoran was the last to step onto the high observation deck at the bow of the ship.

He stood by the polished wooden rail, his hands resting lightly against the smooth wood, looking out over the mountain basin one final time.

Below them, the people in the courtyard grew small as the massive vessel began to hum.

HUMMMMMM.

The ship’s formation arrays flared with a soft, pale blue light.

The heavy air around the hull began to swirl, lifting the titanic wooden beast off the mountain peak without shaking a single cup on the tables below.

The massive sails caught the high drafts, and flew to the direction where they had first descended.

The profound ark glided smoothly through the morning sky, picking up speed as it rose higher and higher.

The mountains shrank into small gray teeth below, the rivers turned into thin silver threads, and soon, the whole valley was swallowed by the rolling sea of white clouds.

The ship cut through the cloud banks like a knife through fresh bread, heading straight toward the torn spot in the upper firmament where the golden gates of the upper realm were already waiting to open.