The courtyard of the stone house was calm under the faint glow of moonlight. Yet within the tall chambers of the Eternal Night Mansion, Elder Park’s face was anything but calm. Her disciple, a young girl with nervous eyes, stood trembling before her.
"You are telling ," Elder Park’s voice was cold, sharp like ice, "that Mo Han—soone who crawled here from the backwater Pink Blossom Tree sect—saved a mysterious lady who was on the verge of death?"
The disciple nodded quickly. "Yes, Master. I...I followed your instructions to gather news. The senior servant of the Healing Tower accompanied him. Witnesses say he brewed a rare elixir—Night Lotus Elixir—and stabilized her crumbling dantian. Even the old healer present was left speechless."
Park’s brows furrowed deeply. "Night Lotus Elixir?!" Her voice rose in disbelief. "That formula has been lost for centuries. And you claim a boy who entered my division barely days ago knows it? Nonsense!"
"But, Master..." the disciple stamred, "the lady herself... she begged for his help. And the elixir worked. The rumors spread quickly among the guards outside. They say the woman regained her vitality overnight."
Elder Park’s eyes glead with a dangerous light. She leaned back into her chair, tapping her long nails against the armrest. "How? How does he know things that even I, who studied under the greatest healers of this sect, do not? He carries secrets... secrets too large for his station."
The disciple lowered her head, afraid of the anger simring in Park’s aura.
"Very well," Elder Park hissed after a pause, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Tomorrow, I will confront him personally. Let us see how long this boy hides his tricks."
-
anwhile, far away, Mo Han returned to his stone house, the heavy golden mace slung over his shoulder. Fatty Lambu nearly jumped when he saw him.
"Brother Han! You’re back!" Lambu ran over, his eyes wide as they locked onto the weapon. "Wha—what in the heavens is that? Did you...rob a demon king?"
Mo Han smirked faintly. "Nothing so dramatic. Consider it a gift." He hefted the mace forward, the demonic runes flickering faintly as it landed on the ground with a resonant thud. "For you, Lambu."
Fatty blinked, then blinked again, as though he hadn’t heard correctly. "F-For ?" He swallowed hard, his chubby fingers trembling as he reached toward the mace. "Brother Han, I—I can’t even lift this monster! And... and look at it! It’s glowing like it’s angry!"
Mo Han’s lips curled with amusent. "That’s exactly why it suits you. You don’t need to waste spirit stones hunting for so second-rate weapon in the city. This one ca to us... perhaps fate. Take it, Lambu."
Lambu crouched, grunted, and tried with all his might to lift it. The mace didn’t budge an inch. Sweat beaded his forehead, his cheeks turning red. Finally, he sat back, panting. "It—it doesn’t even want to touch it properly."
Just then, Jia Kai, who had been quietly observing from the side, stepped closer. Her delicate fingers brushed over the strange runes carved along the shaft. Her eyes narrowed as she deciphered the ancient script.
"There’s writing here," she murmured, her voice steady.
Fatty leaned in, eyes bulging. "Writing? What does it say? Please don’t tell it says, Fatty, you will never lift !"
Despite herself, Jia Kai let out a small laugh. Then she shook her head and translated, her tone solemn. "’The wielder must form a connection with this Hell Destruction Mace... only upon being accepted by the weapon will its true power reveal itself.’"
Mo Han folded his arms across his chest, his gaze sharp. "A sealed weapon, then."
Fatty’s round face was filled with equal parts awe and terror. "Hell Destruction Mace...? Why does that na sound like the final boss of every nightmare? Brother Han, are you trying to kill ?"
"You asked for strength," Mo Han replied evenly. "And strength never cos cheaply. Consider this your trial. Make it recognize you, and you won’t just be strong—you’ll be unshakable."
Lambu’s lips trembled, but he clenched his fists, determination flashing in his eyes. "Alright! I—I’ll try. Even if I have to sit here for ten years, I’ll make this mace call daddy!"
Jia Kai rolled her eyes. "You’d better focus on bonding with it instead of making ridiculous declarations."
But Mo Han’s gaze lingered on the mace. He had chosen it for a reason. He could feel the suppressed ferocity inside, as though the weapon itself was alive. "Try all your ans, Lambu. This mace will either crush you... or forge you."
Fatty straightened his back, puffing out his chest. "Then let it forge ! Thank you, Brother Han. I won’t let your gift go to waste."
Satisfied, Mo Han nodded. His attention then turned elsewhere. "Good. While you wrestle with your mace, I have other matters."
-
The next morning, Mo Han rose early and made his way toward the Alchemy Division. The sun painted the Eternal Night Mansion in gold, its spires glowing like blades cutting into the sky. The fragrance of herbs grew stronger the closer he ca to the division.
The lecture halls were alive with the scent of rare blossoms, cauldrons simring with dicinal brews. Disciples bustled about, asuring powders, grinding roots, stirring concoctions that emitted soft puffs of light.
Mo Han stepped into the vast chamber where Elder Bogi’s disciples were gathered. His presence turned a few heads, but most returned to their tasks quickly. Mo Han did not care for their whispers. His path was his own.
He recalled Elder Bogi’s words from yesterday: "Co tomorrow afternoon to the Alchemy Forging Grounds. I wish to see your skill with my own eyes."
Now, as he entered the division, Mo Han felt a quiet excitent stir within him. Unlike the Healing Division where he had been treated with scorn, here was the chance to learn, to create, and to refine himself through fire and cauldron.
-
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