One pile held a map—partially incomplete—marked with several points inside the caldera labeled with odd nas like "Vein Split Path," "Cradle of Fla," and "The Singing Pit."
Another docunt ntioned that a second outpost, deeper within the eastern cliffside, was still under construction. A third confird that a senior Mist Eye cultivator—soone in the Peak of the Core Condensation Realm—would be arriving soon to oversee the final excavation.
Han Yu leaned back and exhaled.
This is bigger than anyone let on.
Not just a skeleton. Not just a mystery altar.
’An energy source that keeps the magma stable? That’s not natural. That’s cultivation engineering. That’s—’
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rush of fatigue.
He was tired again, deep in his bones. His body had been running on pills, salves, and fire. Now that he was safe, fed, and inford, the exhaustion returned like a tide.
Han Yu bundled the scrolls back into the satchel, intending to read the rest later and rested it against the cave wall.
He added a few more sticks to the fire, made sure the wards at the cave entrance were still burning softly, and leaned back against his pack, wrapping himself in a spare cloak for warmth.
His eyes drifted shut.
He had more work to do.
But for now, just a few hours of rest.
Just enough to be strong enough... to steal secrets from a sect of shadows.
And maybe, just maybe, survive this mission after all.
****
Han Yu awoke with a sharp breath, his body jerking slightly as his senses returned to him. For a brief second, he expected to feel the unbearable heat of the caldera burning into his skin again, but instead, he was t with the cool dampness of stone and the soft warmth of a fading fire.
His eyes blinked open slowly, crusted with the remnants of fatigue. The cave ceiling above him was just barely visible in the dim orange light. Outside, birds chirped sowhere in the distance—an actual natural sound—and it reassured him more than anything else that he hadn’t died in the night.
Though of course the birds were nothing like a small sparrow or pigeons, but rather so large bird beasts letting out cries while hunting for prey. But still, it counted.
Han Yu’s entire body ached, but it was a dull, manageable pain now—more the lingering soreness of a body that had barely avoided incineration than the sharp agony of fresh burns. His bandages clung uncomfortably in places, but there was no new bleeding, no sign of infection. The pills had worked.
He sat up slowly, groaning and stretching as best as his mummified condition allowed.
"Ughhh... feels like I fought a dragon using a wooden spoon," he muttered to himself, rubbing his stiff neck.
His stomach growled soon after, a loud, desperate cry that echoed slightly in the cave.
"Alright, alright, food first."
He took out so of the supplies he’d packed from the outpost—dried at, buns, a preserved egg, and a bit of pickled root. It wasn’t a royal feast, but it was a far cry better than ash-coated boar or... starvation.
As he chewed, he allowed himself a few quiet minutes to enjoy the sensation of eating without the fear of sudden death.
Then ca business.
With a small sigh, he reached for the satchel of scrolls he had stolen from the Mist Eye outpost. He laid them out on the flat rock before him and chose one at random to start. As he read, his brows furrowed in concentration.
Most of the docunts remained dry and technical—reports, shift logs, supply requests—but here and there, tantalizing pieces of information erged.
In one scroll, a record of exploration routes described a few sections of the caldera as "highly unstable," with notes about strange energy distortions.
In another, there was ntion of a "Warding Array" set around the sealed chamber under the skeleton—a chamber they had yet to fully access.
But then, he unrolled a parchnt sealed in darker wax than the others—clearly older and possibly of higher authority.
Near the bottom, after dense lines of obscure terminology and vague warnings, his eyes caught a single line:
"The entity referred to as the Magma Ancestor predates known history. Believed to be stronger than any known cultivator or beast. Origin: Unknown. Motivation: Unknown. Remains sealed."
Han Yu read that line again. And then again.
’Magma Ancestor?’
It had a na.
Or at least, a title.
But that was all. Just that one line. No diagrams, no accounts, no stories—nothing else to give him any clue as to what it really was or why the Mist Eye Sect was so desperate to find the altar beneath it.
He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling of the cave as his mind raced.
"A being stronger than any in the world... sealed beneath a caldera filled with liquid fire," he muttered. "And a cult wants to unseal it."
He paused. "Great."
If he wasn’t mistaken—and let’s face it, he had excellent instincts when it ca to trouble—then the Mist Eye Sect wasn’t just here on so greedy pillage mission. They were standing on the edge of a blade. On one side: power. On the other: destruction.
And Han Yu?
Han Yu was currently sitting sowhere near the middle, licking his wounds.
He shook his head and looked back at the scroll, rereading the line once more as if it might reveal a new secret if he just stared hard enough.
But the parchnt was silent.
Whatever the Magma Ancestor was, it was more than a re skeleton.
A being that powerful wouldn’t leave behind only bones. It had to be sealed with intention—powerful intention. Possibly with blood, souls, or divine contracts. And the Mist Eye Sect wanted to tamper with it?
His gut told him that wouldn’t end well.
Not for them.
Not for him.
Not for the world.
He gently rolled the scroll back up and tied it off. His thoughts swirled with possibilities. Maybe he could use this information to his advantage.
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