Chapter 36: Those Who Seek Power
Dust hung in the air like drifting ash as Ashen stared at the final mural, the carved shadow pressed eternally behind the faceless cultivator. He had been standing there longer than he realized. The silence of the broken hall wrapped around him, thick and heavy, like the air of a tomb.
It was the kind of silence that felt aware.
He didn't turn when he first heard it—
the faint echo of boots slamming stone, hurried, uneven, desperate.
He had sensed them long before they entered.
The ruined chamber's stale air trembled as voices from above spilled down the shattered stairway.
"…light—move your steps—!"
"Is that—down there, I see someone!"
"Careful! The ground—watch your feet!"
Ashen slowly lifted his head.
The footsteps accelerated.
Then—
Four rogue cultivators burst into the hall.
Their lantern stones flickered wildly, casting sharp, jittery shadows across pillars cracked by age. The ruins swallowed the light greedily, leaving the chamber half illuminated and half drowning in darkness.
Ashen didn't move.
He simply watched them approach.
The Arrival
The first to step forward was a young man with a long scar dragging from his jaw to the base of his neck. Sweat gleamed along his forehead. He scanned the hall with wide, feverish eyes.
"Hah… hah… by the heavens…" he breathed out, voice quivering with excitement, "this place is real."
Behind him, a tall woman with braided hair slung a staff across her back, eyes cold and focused. Her gaze swept the murals, the pillars, the dust, the cracks in the ceiling.
Her lips parted slowly.
"A full ruin… untouched for ages," she whispered. "You're the first to reach it."
Her eyes slid toward Ashen.
"You must have triggered it."
Ashen didn't answer.
Not yet.
A third figure—a broad-shouldered man whose veins bulged across his forearms—dragged his blade free with a metallic scrape. His breath was aggressive, like he was ready to attack simply because he felt uncomfortable.
"Tch. This place stinks of danger," he muttered. "And he's standing there like it's nothing."
The fourth man remained silent. Narrow-eyed, thin, cautious. He held no weapon yet, but his posture was the most dangerous—centered, balanced, ready.
His eyes locked onto Ashen like he was studying a strange beast.
The scarred man took two steps forward.
"You. You reached the ruin first."
Ashen lifted his eyes just enough to meet his.
"…And?"
The scarred man's grin widened.
"Don't act innocent. You clearly found something."
Ashen stayed quiet.
The broad man snorted. "Talk, stranger. Or I'll force—"
The woman raised a hand, stopping him.
She stared at Ashen more carefully now.
"There's something about you… something off."
Her brows lowered.
"Your presence isn't normal. The valley reacts to you."
Ashen didn't deny it.
He simply said:
"This place isn't safe for you."
Scar Jaw's expression darkened.
"What's THAT supposed to mean? You trying to scare us out of inheriting whatever's down here?"
Ashen turned his gaze away from them—toward the deep corridor behind him, toward darkness that breathed colder than the hall.
"I'm telling you not to force what you can't understand."
The broad man barked a laugh.
"Who do you think you're talking to? We've survived this cursed valley longer than most cultivators who entered it!"
The woman's hands tightened around her staff.
"And we're not leaving empty-handed."
Ashen remained still.
He didn't move from his spot.
He didn't reach for a weapon.
He didn't even adjust his shoulders.
He simply stood between them and the deeper ruin—
calm
silent
unshaken.
That made them nervous.
The quiet one murmured:
"He's blocking the path."
Scar Jaw snarled. "I know!"
He stepped forward again—
—but the woman caught his shoulder.
"Wait."
Scar Jaw glared at her.
She ignored it.
She took another slow step toward Ashen, studying his face, his posture, the faint tension around his eyes.
"You… saw something here."
Ashen didn't answer.
But silence was an answer of its own.
Her pupils shrank, and she whispered,
"…What did you see in these ruins?"
Before Ashen could respond, the broad man slammed the butt of his blade into the ground.
"Enough! We came here for treasure, inheritance, whatever lies deeper!" His voice echoed off the pillars. "And we won't let some silent brat get in our way!"
Ashen finally looked at them directly.
"I have no interest in these things."
Scar Jaw scoffed. "Then MOVE."
"No."
That single word froze the air.
Scar Jaw pointed his spear toward Ashen.
"You think you can take all of us?"
Ashen exhaled softly.
"I don't need to."
His gaze shifted toward the floor.
They followed his eyes—
—and saw the faintest pulse of light beneath the dust.
The Ruins React
A soft hum vibrated through the stone.
Barely there.
A whisper.
Like a deep breath drawn from the earth itself.
The quiet cultivator's eyes widened.
"…This place is awakening."
Scar Jaw frowned. "What awakening? It's a dead hall! Nothing's—"
The ground clicked beneath his foot.
Clack.
Everyone froze.
Scar Jaw looked down slowly.
"…what was that?"
Then—
Clack… clack… clack.
Like pressure plates resetting.
Like gears engaging.
Ashen's voice lowered, calm and absolute:
"Step back. All of you."
The broad man scoffed. "Don't order—"
The hum grew into a low, rolling vibration that crawled up the pillars, shaking loose dust in thick clouds.
The woman stumbled back. "The inscriptions… they're lighting up!"
Ancient lines carved into the tiles pulsed with faint blue glow, tracing spirals that spread outward like awakening veins.
Even the murals flickered—
—not with magic,
but with the shifting of stone deep behind them.
The quiet man hissed sharply. "Move! The formation's activating!"
He grabbed Scar Jaw's arm and pulled him back.
The others followed instinctively.
Ashen did not move.
He stood calm in the middle as the glow spread.
Panic Sets In
Rumbling thundered beneath the hall.
The ceiling trembled.
Cracks formed along the pillars.
Pebbles rained from above.
The air grew thick with choking dust.
The rogue cultivators backed toward the stairway—
just as the upper passage began to shift violently.
The woman screamed:
"THE EXIT—THE EXIT IS CLOSING!"
They turned and saw it—
The staircase they had descended—
—was collapsing.
Massive slabs of stone slid across the entrance, grinding like ancient jaws closing shut.
The broad man ran for it.
"No—NO—MOVE!"
He swung his blade wildly at the falling slabs, sparks flying uselessly.
The slab didn't even scratch.
Another slab fell beside it—
then another—
and another—
until the entire staircase was swallowed by stone.
A final boulder slammed into place with a deafening BOOM.
The hall shook with the force.
Silence followed.
Choking.
Absolute.
Trapping.
The broad man struck the sealed wall again and again.
"Open—OPEN! DAMN IT ALL—!"
His blade chipped.
The stone did not.
Scar Jaw grabbed fistfuls of his hair.
"What is this!? Why is the ruin reacting now!?"
Ashen didn't turn toward them.
He stared at the floor as the glowing lines stabilized, weaving across the chamber, linking walls, murals, pillars, and corridors like a vast net tightening.
He spoke quietly.
"…This ruin was never meant for the uninvited."
Scar Jaw rounded on him.
"YOU DID THIS, DIDN'T YOU!?"
Ashen's tone didn't change.
"I warned you."
"TELL US HOW TO OPEN THE EXIT!"
"I don't know how."
"LIAR!"
Ashen finally lifted his eyes.
"It sealed when you forced your way in."
The quiet cultivator swallowed hard.
"No… no, it sealed the moment he understood the murals…"
The woman's head snapped toward him.
"What does that mean!?"
But fear already twisted her expression.
Because she understood enough:
This ruin wasn't reacting to all of them.
It was reacting to one person.
Ashen.
She stepped back, voice cracking.
"You… what exactly are you?"
Ashen didn't answer.
He didn't know himself.
But the ruins moved around him like a living thing.
Like they recognized something in him.
The tremors returned—
louder.
Faster.
The far wall began to sink into the ground as a new passage revealed itself.
Scar Jaw froze.
The woman backed away.
The broad man lifted his blade again.
Even the silent one's breath quickened.
A cold, stale wind exhaled from the newly revealed dark.
Not wind—
—but breath.
Something deeper in the ruins had awakened as well.
The woman clutched her staff tightly.
"We're trapped… inside with whatever lives down here."
Ashen gazed toward the darkness.
"…There's no turning back now."
The rogue cultivators stared at him—
fear
anger
uncertainty
desperation.
They came seeking power.
Instead, they became part of the ruins' next trial.