Akashic Scroll Of Heavenly way

Night had settled over the valley like a thick velvet curtain, and in the warm flicker of firelight, the world outside the hut melted into shadow. Li Wei sat cross-legged near the hearth, cradling a hot bowl of herbal broth. Across from him, Old Man Fei reclined lazily against a bundle of firewood, sipping from his endless gourd of wine while humming an off-key war ballad.

Uncle Han, ever silent, was busy cleaning an old dagger—a blade Li Wei had never seen before, etched with a spiral pattern along its edge that shimmered faintly with runes.

Ming Qui, bruised but wide-eyed with curiosity, leaned forward. "You two really fought together in the Great Desert War?"

Old Man Fei coughed on his wine and wiped his mouth. "Pfft! 'Fought' is putting it mildly. We danced on fire and bled on the bones of giants."

Uncle Han shot him a look, but Fei continued unabated.

"You ever hear of the Siege of Black Fang Fortress?" Fei asked, eyes glinting.

Li Wei shook his head.

Old Man Fei leaned in like a bard ready to unveil a forgotten epic. "Ten thousand men, and only two returned from the northern wall."

"And those two?" Ming Qui asked.

Fei grinned and tapped his own chest, then gestured to Uncle Han.

"Him and me. Back then, I was the laughing flame of the Eastern Reaches, and Uncle Han was the quiet storm. We were part of the Obsidian Vanguard, under Emperor Zhao himself."

Li Wei's eyes widened. "The Emperor's elite guard?"

Uncle Han didn't confirm or deny. Instead, he set down the dagger and spoke softly. "We were fools chasing glory."

Old Man Fei scoffed. "You say that now, but you enjoyed every second. You were the only one who could fight the Nine-Headed Sand Drake with bare hands."

Ming Qui leaned closer. "You fought a Nine-Headed Sand Drake?"

Uncle Han raised a brow. "That was Fei's fault. He stole the beast's egg."

Fei waved it off. "It made for a delicious omelette. Besides, that beast needed humbling."

The fire cracked loudly, and for a moment, laughter filled the room—genuine, unburdened. But it faded when Uncle Han stood, his expression solemn.

"That life ended long ago," he said. "We lost too many friends. And now the world turns to new blood."

Li Wei looked down at his hands. "Then why train me? Why bother?"

Uncle Han's eyes locked onto him. "Because you're not just a disciple. You're family."

Silence fell. Even Old Man Fei grew still.

Uncle Han turned toward the fire. "Your father once saved my life. And your mother… she made me promise that if anything ever happened to them, I'd watch over you."

Li Wei's breath caught in his chest. "You knew my parents?"

Old Man Fei sighed. "We both did. Your father was a monster in battle. Stronger than either of us. And your mother—brilliant and fearless woman, she wielded lightning like a paintbrush. When they vanished, most believed they'd died."

Uncle Han's voice was low. "They didn't die. They chose to disappear."

Li Wei's heart raced. "Why?"

Old Man Fei glanced at Uncle Han, uncertain whether to speak.

But Uncle Han answered, "Because the Heaven-Marked Alliance wanted their child. You."

The fire cracked sharply.

Ming Qui stared, stunned. "Why would an ancient alliance want Li Wei?"

Old Man Fei leaned in. "Because Li Wei's bloodline is tied to something ancient. Older than sects. Older than the Empire. The Akashic Scrolls."

Li Wei froze. "The same scroll I found in the library vault?"

Uncle Han nodded. "It wasn't coincidence. The scroll called to you because you're its heir."

---

Later that night, after Ming Qui had fallen asleep snoring against a tree trunk, Li Wei sat with Old Man Fei by the fire. The old drunk no longer laughed. His eyes watched the stars with an ache only time could gift.

"Uncle Han doesn't speak of it, but he once stood at the threshold of immortality," Fei said. "Void Ascension Peak—stronger than anyone in the north. But he gave it all up."

Li Wei blinked. "Why?"

"To protect you. After your parents vanished, the alliance sent assassins. He used a forbidden seal to erase his cultivation and vanish from the world. He's only started rebuilding his strength recently… and he's doing it quietly. For you."

Li Wei stared at the flickering flames.

"Do you regret your path?" he asked.

Old Man Fei grinned. "Regret is for men who had a choice. Me? I chose chaos. But I do regret not keeping better friends alive."

He raised his gourd in a toast to the stars. "To those we lost. And to you, boy—may your enemies always underestimate you."

Li Wei raised his bowl and clinked it against the gourd. "They already do."

Old Man Fei cackled.

At dawn, Uncle Han handed Li Wei a scroll.

"Open it when you're ready," he said. "Inside is a map to a hidden sect that doesn't bow to the Great Powers. They might help train you… but their tests are brutal."

Li Wei accepted the scroll, eyes burning with resolve.

"I'm ready."

Uncle Han nodded once.

Behind them, Old Man Fei stood with a yawn. "Guess I'll tag along. I've got nothing better to do… unless there's wine waiting."

Ming Qui stretched and cracked his knuckles. "I'm in too. I owe you."

The wind picked up, rustling the trees as the first light of morning cut across the valley floor.

The path ahead was uncertain, but Li Wei was no longer alone.

He had found mentors, allies, and fragments of the truth about himself.

And soon, the world would remember his name.

Li Wei decided to cultivate that day , as there was a pressing need for him to increase his strength, and only came out after the sun had gone down.

Later that night, while Fei snored loudly from a makeshift bed of straw and blankets, Li Wei sat on the porch with Ming Qui, watching fireflies float across the valley's rim.

"You never answered," Li Wei said quietly, "why were those people after you?"

Ming Qui hesitated, then pulled a small scroll from inside his tunic and handed it over. "I didn't steal anything... not really. This was mine.... My father's."

Li Wei unrolled the parchment. Symbols of ink and qi shimmered faintly along its edges. Ancient formations, weaving patterns of energy and concealment.

"It's a legacy technique," Ming Qui whispered. "My clan was destroyed five years ago. The Black Vine Syndicate hunted the survivors. They thought we had ancient cultivation arts... and they were right."

"Why keep it with you?" Li Wei asked. "It's dangerous."

"It's the only thing left of my family. And if I master it—maybe I can make them pay."

Li Wei said nothing. His hand brushed the scroll's edge and he felt something—a pulse, like a whisper calling out to deeper roots of his soul.

---

The following days became a blur of motion and pain. Uncle Han drilled Li Wei in raw combat, pushing him through broken terrain, challenging him to use not just fists but instinct.

Old Man Fei, however, had a different approach.

"Your soul is noisy," he told Li Wei. "Your qi spirals too tightly. You're like a man shouting in an echo chamber—eventually, you'll go deaf."

He taught him the art of concealment—not hiding, but breathing with the world.

They practiced meditating under waterfalls, walking barefoot on sand without leaving footprints, and listening to wind as if it were a language.

"Strength is fine," Fei said one evening, "but sometimes, surviving the unseen is more important than striking first."

Meanwhile, Ming Qui showed surprising ability. Though his cultivation was a level below Li Wei's, his understanding of formations and mobility was uncanny. Together, they sparred, ate, and began to trust one another like brothers forged through fire.

---

One night, as Li Wei meditated with the Akashic scroll laid open before him, something strange occurred.

The symbols on the scroll glowed softly. His consciousness drifted—not asleep, not awake.

In the dreamscape, he stood at the center of a vast sea of stars. A voice echoed, low and ancient:

"You seek the Way of Heaven... but Heaven never speaks to those who do not bleed."

Suddenly, the stars started to burn red, and he saw himself fighting—a future self—clad in robes soaked with blood, his eyes filled with pain and fury.

Then the image vanished, and Li Wei woke with a gasp.

Outside, the forest was still. Yet a single golden feather rested on the scroll—warm, humming with unfamiliar energy.

Trouble, however, did not rest.

On the fourth night after the dream, Old Man Fei stood silently outside the hut, a bottle forgotten in his hand. "They found us," he murmured.

Li Wei jolted awake. "Who?"

Fei turned to him....his face unusually grave. "Not the Syndicate this time. Someone worse."

Uncle Han stepped outside already dressed for war. "Assassins. Trained. Silent Blades."

"They're not after Ming," Fei added. "They're after you."

Li Wei froze. "Me?"

Han's gaze was iron. "You didn't think attacking those rogue elders in the sect would go unnoticed, did you?"

Fei nodded. "And now someone with real power wants your head. Probably wants the scroll, too."

Ming Qui tightened his fists. "We should run."

Han shook his head. "No. We face them. If we run now, we'll always be hunted."

Li Wei looked down at the scroll glowing faintly by the hearth. He remembered the stars, the blood, the voice.

He stood. "Then let them come."