The rumble of the collapsing tunnel faded, leaving behind an oppressive, absolute silence. They stood in a small, circular hall. The vaulted ceiling above was studded with crystals that mimicked a starry sky, but their light was ghostly and sorrowful. The air was still and dry, difficult to breathe. In the center of the room, on a floor of black marble, a giant circle was inlaid, within which twelve constellations shimmered with a silver radiance.
"The Hall of Fallen Stars," the Elder whispered, his voice filled with awe and horror. "Here the first Kings were crowned. And here they stood judgment before their ancestors."
Leng Wei said nothing. His gaze was fixed on the archway at the end of the hall. It was massive, carved from dark stone, its surface coated in a thick layer of glittering stardust.
'It will require its price.' The Elder's words echoed in his mind, intertwining with the image of Lord Jiang's sacrifice.
Suddenly, the stardust on the arch began to stir. It moved like a swarm of fireflies obeying an invisible conductor, the particles coalescing into a familiar silhouette—a tall man with a proud bearing and sharp fangs. His father.
But this was not the image of a mighty King. This was a man whose face was contorted by bottomless pain. He was on his knees, his hands outstretched toward another figure forming from the dust beside him. A human woman. His mother. Her face, usually bright with a gentle smile, was streaked with tears. She was pulling away from him.
A voice, woven from the whispers of thousands of dead stars, resonated through the hall, speaking directly to Leng Wei:
"Behold. The price of love. The first pain that laid the foundation of your destiny. He chose her—and doomed himself to death, her to a curse, and you to a life of torment. Do you not hate him for this choice?"
Leng Wei clenched his fists. The old wound he had carried for years—the resentment toward the father who had abandoned them—throbbed with renewed vigor.
"No..." he whispered.
"What 'no,' boy?" a venomous voice cut through the air. It was Khan. Leng Wei turned and saw his companions frozen like statues, their eyes glazed over. They, too, were witnessing their own visions. Khan stared into the emptiness before him, his face a mask of rage and guilt. Lin Mei was sobbing, whispering soundless words to the phantom of her arrogant father. Even Jin stood with his head bowed, as if listening to a severe reprimand.
The Hall was showing each their most bitter memory.
"Denial is the refuge of the weak. Admit it. His love was a mistake. You are a mistake. A curse. Renounce him, and we shall grant you the power to erase this pain."
The vision shifted. Now he saw himself—but not as he was. He saw a Leng Wei returning home with Lin Mei's money, only to watch his mother die from the curse in his arms, never receiving the medicine. Then, this "he" lifted his head, and his eyes filled not with rage, but with a chilling emptiness. He became the Giant of the Abyss—an emotionless, all-destroying instrument.
The temptation was immense. To reject the pain, to become void, was to never suffer again.
He closed his eyes, feeling tears trace paths down his cheeks. He was that boy again, praying at an altar to an unresponsive father.
And then he remembered something else. Not pain, but warmth. His mother's hands stroking his head. Her voice humming a lullaby. Her words: "He loved us, son. More than life itself."
He remembered the Heart of Harmony. Not as an artifact, but as an idea. Balance. Acceptance.
He opened his eyes and looked at the specter of his father, not with hatred, but with understanding.
"I do not renounce him," he declared, his voice as solid as bedrock. "His choice was not a mistake. It was a feat of courage. He chose love over duty to a race that knew only hatred. He gave me a chance. A chance to feel both the pain I see now and the love I remember. And for that, I am grateful. I accept him, and I accept all my pain. It is a part of me."
As he spoke these words, the phantom figures of his parents smiled. They reached for each other, and this time, their fingers met. Then, they dissolved into shimmering stardust that did not vanish but gently enveloped Leng Wei like a blessing. The sharp pain in his soul softened, transforming into a luminous, solemn sadness.
At that moment, the hall's enchantment weakened. Khan let out a heavy gasp, wiping sweat from his brow. Lin Mei straightened, brushing away her tears, her gaze hardening with newfound resolve. Jin slowly raised his head, a complex understanding dawning in his silver eyes.
The arch at the end of the hall was no longer mere stone. The stardust upon it had gathered into an intricate pattern, resembling a map or a schematic, and at its center now shone a doorway of pure light.
"The Gate is open..." the Elder breathed in astonishment. "You passed the trial... not by force, but by acceptance."
The rumbling from outside began to grow again. The walls of the hall trembled. The Giants were drawing near.
"Well then," Khan grunted, a grim smile twisting his lips as he tightened his grip on his blades. "Since we're here, might as well give our guests a proper welcome. A royal reception in this Star Hall of theirs."
Leng Wei took one last look at the place where he had seen his parents, then turned to the shining door.
"Let's not wait for them," he said. "We go forward. To meet whatever lies ahead."
He stepped into the glowing portal, and his figure was swallowed by the dazzling light. His comrades, exchanging a final glance, followed without hesitation.
They had stepped into the very heart of the Ancestors' legacy. And they were ready to fight their final battle.