Deep within the Celestial Bureau of Records, past halls lined with stardust scrolls and moonlight ink, sat an ancient room that only a handful of immortals ever entered.
It was not lit by flame or lantern, but by the steady pulse of time.
Shelves floated through the air, shifting and rearranging themselves with a will of their own. Gold-lined tomes fluttered open on command. Everything was perfectly catalogued — from the destinies of unborn emperors to the lifespan of every falling star.
In the very center of the room stood a single glowing pillar.
The Sky Registry.
Etched onto it were the names of every immortal, every spirit, and every celestial being blessed by the stars.
Until now.
Because that morning, the Registry had cracked.
Not completely. Not visibly. But the scroll masters had felt it — a tremor through divine parchment, as if a name had been added… without permission.
"THIS IS A DISASTER!"
Elder Mian, High Keeper of the Sky Bureau and notorious for his towering hat and even taller temper, was currently having a conniption.
He flailed through the records like a banshee in silk. "Someone breached the registry! Without a summoning! Without heavenly approval! WITHOUT EVEN A COSMIC COURTESY CALL!"
Across from him, a much calmer, moon-eyed woman sipped her tea and said quietly, "Perhaps it was a ripple. A small distortion."
"There are no distortions in my registry!" Elder Mian screeched.
He pointed to the anomaly glowing red on the pillar: a single name floating at the bottom, unlinked to any sect, lineage, or ancestral path.
Lian Qiao.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "A disciple from Peach Blossom Sect?"
"NO. A glitch in divine law!" Elder Mian thundered. "She is not registered in the celestial order—until now!"
He whirled around, robes flying. "Bring me the Origin Scrolls! Bring me the Star Maps! Bring me my headache elixir!"
"But—"
"Also bring snacks. I think better when chewing!"
🌸 Back in Peach Blossom Sect…
Lian Qiao was trying to fly in a straight line.
Emphasis on trying.
"Balance," she muttered to herself, arms stretched like wings. "Steady qi. Mind like water. Don't wobble, don't wobble—ACK!"
She spiraled sideways and crashed into a cloud puff.
Master Bai, who had been watching her from his reclined cloud-chair while sipping peach juice, didn't even flinch.
"You know," he said lazily, "you'd have more luck if you weren't trying to control the wind like it's your ex."
"I don't have an ex!" Qiao shouted from her tangled mess of robes and mist.
"My point exactly," he said, raising a brow.
Qiao huffed and floated back down, face flushed. "Everyone's watching me weirdly since I came back. Some of the other trainees whisper when I pass."
"Of course they do," Master Bai replied.
"Why?"
"Because you fell into a divine vacuum, survived meeting Mo Yujin, and returned with your spirit core enhanced. Your aura's brighter. Your energy signature's changed. If that's not celestial gossip-worthy, I don't know what is."
Qiao paused. "...Wait. My what changed?"
Master Bai pulled a scroll from his sleeve. A pulse of qi made a holographic orb appear above it — her spiritual form. Sure enough, the once-flimsy, peach-tinted glow around her was now tinged with silver-blue.
The color of prophecy. The color of ancient power.
Her mouth dropped open. "I-I didn't do anything!"
"Exactly," Master Bai murmured, eyes narrowing. "Which means something — or someone — did it for you."
Qiao sat down hard on the nearest rock. "Am I going to be exiled?"
"Unlikely. But keep this up and you might be summoned to the Celestial Court."
"To be judged?!"
"To be studied," he replied grimly. "And if they find something unusual in your soul thread, they'll want to know why he didn't erase you on sight."
Qiao went still. "...You mean Mo Yujin."
"I mean," he said slowly, "that immortals like him don't show mercy. They don't act without reason. And they certainly don't anchor soul threads unless there's a prophecy in motion."
Qiao touched her chest.
She felt it, then — a thread, faint but undeniable, tugging somewhere deep in her spiritual core.
She wasn't just being watched.
She was marked.
And the heavens had taken notice.
🌌 Meanwhile, in the deepest chamber of the Sky Bureau...
A scroll unfurled itself on the forbidden table.
Words glowed into being — slow, burning, ancient:
"When the girl of spring meets the god of war,The heavens will stir,The stars will weep,And the realms will burn before they bloom."
A prophecy long sealed.
Awakened.
By her fall.