The door to the medical pavilion creaked open gently, morning light casting golden rays across the sterile floor. A young woman entered, no older than twenty. She wore the green robes of a junior medical cultivator, her expression serious yet unsure. A faint sheen of sweat clung to her brow—not from exertion, but from the weight of her assignment.

  Her name was Yu Ruo, a newly assigned body examiner from the Pill Division, sent to perform a follow-up scan on the infamous patient: Han Ye.

  She hesitated at the doorway, clutching her jade tablet for recording data.

  And then—she saw it.

  A soft humming filled her ears. Above Han Ye’s head was a halo—a crown made of thousands of impossibly tiny glowing symbols, rotating with the quiet majesty of a celestial engine. Each symbol emitted a delicate resonance, as if whispering truths no mortal should hear. The halo was invisible to everyone else. But not to her.

  Yu Ruo’s breath hitched.

  The air around Han Ye shimmered slightly. His presence—calm, smiling—felt like a contradiction. His casual posture, the way he hummed to himself while reading a bnk book… didn’t match the raw cosmic weight she now sensed hovering above him.

  He looked up at her and smiled, cheerful.

  The Next Morning…

  Han Ye returned to his personal cave dwelling after his medical checkup. It was a brief visit, but enough to stir the quiet tension lingering inside the medical pavilion.

  During the examination, every single person he passed turned to look.

  Some tried to appear busy. Others froze as if confronted by something divine.

  He wasn't glowing. His clothes weren’t extravagant. His steps were normal.

  But there was something about him—a silent gravity—as if he walked through the world like a sovereign in disguise. His very presence screamed contradiction: strange, broken hands wrapped in bandages, but posture regal. A slight grin that danced between innocence and insanity.

  They whispered to themselves:

  “...why does he feel... holy?”

  “...those hands... they're not right... but I can’t stop staring.”

  Even passing elders paused their steps to gnce at him. No one could expin it.

  Only Yu Ruo—the young body examiner—knew the real reason.

  And in front of her, Han Ye tilted his head, still grinning like a curious child pying with fire.

  “Hey~ why are you spacing out?” he asked pyfully, his tone almost teasing.

  Despite the halo spinning silently above his head—still visible only to her—Yu Ruo flinched like she’d just been caught stealing a gnce at a god.

  “I-I… I’m just, um…”

  Her voice cracked. Her hands trembled slightly over her qi-detection crystal.

  She wasn’t sure why she felt so small in front of him.

  Han Ye chuckled and waved it off with a dismissive gesture.

  “It’s fine. Just rex.”

  He leaned forward with mock secrecy, one finger held up like he was about to tell a joke:

  “You know, you're the only one who can see it.”

  Yu Ruo's eyes widened. “S-See… what?”

  Han Ye tapped his own forehead and whispered:

  “The crown. The truth that even I don’t fully understand.”

  The halo pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging her.

  Yu Ruo froze. Her cultivation knowledge told her this should be impossible—halos were sacred manifestations of divine qi resonance, seen only in ancient scrolls or illusions used in storytelling. But now… it hovered above a patient who giggled about sanity percentages that even she doesn't know what it means.

  Han Ye sighed, stretching zily. “Anyway, I’m done here.”

  He got up from the examination bed like it was just another normal day, and left with a slight bounce in his step.

  Yu Ruo remained frozen in pce, the lingering hum of symbols still echoing in her ears.

  And the only thought that crossed her overwhelmed mind was:

  "Who... or what is he becoming?"

  Han Ye moved toward his cave like a saint walking through the mortal realm. The “mortals” in question were cultivators—some seasoned, some still young—but all bowed slightly as he passed, as if it was simply the right thing to do.

  His calm yet bizarre smile never faded, and though his hands twitched unnaturally, no one dared look too closely. A few cultivators whispered among themselves:

  “Who is he? The emperor’s hidden son? a saint?”

  “I don’t know, but—shhh! Don’t look at him directly, lower your head!” one murmured while pushing his friend’s head down instinctively.

  Han Ye, as usual, was unaware—or perhaps chose not to care. His expression was filled with contentment, but behind his eyes danced the kind of madness that didn’t belong to this world.

  Then his gaze fell upon something mundane—a simple torch mounted to the side of a building.

  ‘Ah… a mp. I forgot to bring the one I made. They probably have the materials around here,’ Han Ye thought, eyes twinkling with wild inspiration.

  A list of components sprang up in his mind, pulled from the countless non-combat manuals he had “accidentally” read during his out-of-body explorations through the sect’s hidden libraries.

  Without hesitation, he approached a nearby vendor.

  “Hello… do you happen to have…” he paused slightly, his voice unusually warm and soothing. “Refined Fme Stone, Qi-conductive Sand, and some Moonlight Crystal Shards? Even Arc I and II quality is fine…”

  Before he even finished the sentence, the vendor and nearby cultivators began digging through their storage bags and pouches, offering up materials like worshippers at an altar.

  “Here, take it…”

  “I have Fme Stones—please, use them…”

  No one could expin why they did it. Their hands moved on their own.

  Han Ye simply nodded and smiled, as if this was the most natural exchange in the world, and continued on his way.

  Inside Han Ye’s Cave

  He returned with a calm that was almost divine, closing the stone door behind him. With a flick of his fingers, he poured the materials gently onto the ground, sorting them with a casualness that contrasted with their rarity.

  Above his shoulders, faint symbols began to float again—unseen by most, yet full of purpose. A soft halo shimmered into existence, the very same one that only the body-checker from before had noticed. It now spun slightly faster, like it too was eager.

  Han Ye crouched and began drawing a formation circle in the dust, his damaged hands still moving with the grace of a heavenly craftsman.

  “Refined Fme Stone… this will act as the core heat emitter. Layer it with the Qi-conductive Sand for stable energy flow… and the Moonlight Shards—perfect for refracting frequencies…”

  He chuckled softly to himself. “A little madness makes the best blueprint.”

  Then came a low hum.

  The symbols above his head began to multiply—tiny symbols no rger than 0.01 mm in diameter, forming a floating, spinning crown-like halo above his head. A thousand of them, each glowing faintly, danced in an orbit of unpredictable logic.

  And then—

  Click.

  The core of the mp lit up.

  A soft glow spread across the cave. Not blinding, not dim. Just… perfect. There were no shadows. No corner left untouched. Only bance.

  Han Ye gazed at it and smiled.

  “This isn’t just light,” he whispered, “it’s peace. A piece of me that’s still whole.”

  He paused.

  “...Or maybe it’s a reflection of how far gone I really am.”

  Suddenly, a new symbol formed within the crown above him—one resembling a closed eye.

  Then, in a voice that seemed to echo from the mp itself, came a whisper:

  “Do you want me to stay lit… or shine light upon the things better left unseen?”

  Han Ye ughed quietly, a ughter neither warm nor cold. Just… strange.

  “What’s the difference?”

  Suddenly, a knock echoed against the stone walls of the cave.

  Han Ye tilted his head.

  ‘Weird… I can’t use my qi sensing techniques while I’m inside here.’

  Curious, he stepped toward the entrance and opened the stone door. Outside stood Elder Jian, but something about him was… different. His expression was tight, and in his hand, gripped firmly, was a dagger infused with qi.

  “Han Ye… this your cave?” Elder Jian asked, even though he already knew the answer. His gaze wasn’t on Han Ye—but on the cursed book Han Ye still held casually in one hand.

  “Yes, Elder. Is there something wrong?” Han Ye replied with a calm, slightly unhinged smile.

  “I sensed an abnormal energy from within your cave. Tell me, what were you doing inside?”

  “Oh, I was making a mp,” Han Ye answered brightly.

  “A… mp?”

  “Yes, like a torch, but more efficient than a torch.”

  Elder Jian’s grip on the dagger tightened.

  “…Would Elder like to see what I made?” Han Ye asked innocently.

  There was a moment of hesitation. Then Elder Jian nodded, slowly, stepping cautiously inside.

  The moment he crossed the threshold, a strange heaviness filled the air. His eyes widened in horror.

  Symbols—countless symbols—covered the walls, floor, and even parts of the ceiling. They glowed faintly with crimson hue. The lines were not drawn with ink. They were drawn with blood—and not just any blood.

  From the pungent familiarity of qi signature, Elder Jian could tell: it was Han Ye’s own blood.

  ‘What am I… looking at?’ Elder Jian thought, his face pale as he stepped further in. Regret welled up in his chest.

  ‘I knew I shouldn’t have lost rock-paper-scissors with the other elders…’

  “Elder… elder?” Han Ye’s voice cut through the silence.

  “…Whose blood is this, Han Ye?” Elder Jian asked, forcing his voice to stay steady.

  “Oh, mine,” Han Ye answered cheerfully. “I figured… after everything, I’d redecorate the cave. So I stabbed my heart, let the blood drain into a bowl, and used it to draw these symbols.”

  “…Okay. Okay. I get it,” Elder Jian said, eyes twitching as he tried to stay composed.

  Han Ye grinned and gestured proudly. “Oh—and here’s the mp I made.”

  Elder Jian looked toward it.

  It floated in the air—an elegant creation of refined qi, Fme Stone, and Moonlight Crystal, glowing with soft, perfect luminescence. But as he looked longer, he saw something else.

  Eyes. Hidden in the patterns of the mp’s structure—watching.

  Then, without warning, the mp spoke.

  Its voice was faint but clear, echoing in the air with a strange calm:

  “Do you want me to stay lit… or shine light upon the things better left unseen?”

  Elder Jian froze. The dagger in his hand trembled slightly.

  “Did it just… speak?” he muttered.

  Han Ye nodded, smiling with dangerous delight. “Yeah. Pretty neat, right?”

  The mp repeated itself, same tone, same words—like a broken yet aware being:

  “Do you want me to stay lit… or shine light upon the things better left unseen?”

  Elder Jian swallowed hard.

  ‘What in the name of all heavens did this boy create…?’

  And just above Han Ye’s head, the symbolic crown—a halo made of thousands of minuscule runes, began to spin more rapidly, reacting to his rising excitement. The runes shimmered in intricate patterns, most unreadable even to seasoned cultivators. Then, one particur rune near the top flickered to life, forming into the shape of an open eye, glowing faintly, and—though unseen by most—gazing directly at Elder Jian.

  Elder Jian didn’t notice the crown. He couldn't. It was veiled from his perception, visible only to a chosen few.

  But what he did feel was something far worse.

  An indescribable weight, like the presence of a cosmic entity watching through Han Ye's smile.

  Elder Jian didn't know what was happening, but he knew Han Ye was becoming more terrifying by the second.

  And that frightening presence—calm, cheerful, and clearly unhinged—made his heart thump with cold fear.

  The mp whispered again.

  “Shall I show you what you fear most?”

  Elder Jian turned and fled without another word.

  Han Ye watched him go, still smiling.

  Then he turned to the mp and said, “You’re going to need a name.”

  Elder Jian flew at full speed, heading straight toward his own cave to calm his trembling heart—trying to prevent it from falling into demon heart deviation. His breaths came in rapid gasps, sweat rolling down his temples.

  “Haah… What the hell was that thing…?” he muttered, clutching his chest. “Too dangerous… far too dangerous…”

  He slumped down against the wall inside his personal chamber, face pale and hand shaking slightly.

  “I should’ve taken that rock-paper-scissors game more seriously… Damn it.”

  He wiped the sweat from his brow and stood up, still trembling slightly. “I need to report this… immediately.”

  Moments ter, he arrived at the Council Pavilion, where several Elders were in a light discussion. The room grew tense the moment he entered—his aura unstable, his expression unreadable.

  “Elder Jian?” Elder Xian raised a brow.

  Without waiting, Elder Jian smmed both hands on the table. “We have a serious problem.”

  The room fell silent.

  “I went to check on Han Ye as agreed,” he said, voice strained. “He said he was crafting something—something he called a ‘mp’. I entered his cave to inspect it.”

  “And?”

  “…The cave is… no longer a cave. It’s a ritual chamber. Every surface is inscribed with blood symbols—his own blood. The structure of the formations… they're complex. Forbidden. Possibly ancient. And then… there’s the mp.”

  “Was it dangerous?” Elder Meng asked.

  Elder Jian’s face twitched.

  “It spoke.”

  A long pause.

  Elder Ji narrowed his eyes. “Spoke? With a spirit, or an embedded formation?”

  Elder Jian shook his head. “No. Not like that. Even the object that Han Ye made may not be cssified as a spiritual object. It asked me something.”

  He took a deep breath and repeated the words, trying not to shiver:

  “Do you want me to stay lit… or shine light upon the things better left unseen?”

  The room grew colder.

  Elder Xian stood. “You’re saying… the item speaks like a sentient being?”

  “I don’t think it’s fully sentient,” Jian admitted. “It repeats that one phrase over and over. But the qi surrounding it—it’s not from our world. I could feel it crawling under my skin.”

  “Did the cursed book influence it?” Elder Ji asked.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t seem unstable at the time—he was... cheerful. Too cheerful.” Jian's eyes twitched. “He smiled and said he stabbed his own heart to get the blood for the symbols. Like it was nothing.”

  “And you let him keep it?” Elder Meng asked, incredulous.

  “I—I panicked!” Elder Jian snapped. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  The elders looked at each other in grim silence.

  Elder Xian muttered, “We need to observe this further. And we might need to kill him… if things get worse.”

  “…Agreed,” the others said.

  Meanwhile, back in Han Ye’s cave…

  He sat cross-legged, grinning at the softly glowing mp as it hovered near his face.

  The floating halo of micro-symbols above his head rotated slowly, now emitting faint chimes with each spin. The crown was growing—more symbols appearing by the second, etched into air thinner than thought.

  Han Ye tilted his head, speaking softly to the mp.

  “So… do you shine light upon the things better left unseen?”

  The mp pulsed in response.

  A moment ter, a whisper echoed from the walls—not from the mp, but from the symbols drawn in blood.

  “Some doors, once opened… never close.”

  Han Ye ughed quietly.

  “Good… then let’s pry them open.”

  The mp glowed brighter.

  And outside the cave, the air grew colder—just for a second.