Legend of the Divine Archer

"What are you still doing here?" the old man asked. Yan Jin hesitated, standing in the old man's space, clearly torn between leaving and asking something that had been troubling him. Finally, after a moment, he turned back and asked, "What do you know about the broken chair…?"

The old man's eyebrow rose in surprise. "Broken chair? Are you talking about the Throne of Pride? Be careful when you speak—thunder might strike you for cursing something like that."

"So, what is it then?" Yan Jin pressed.

The old man shook his head slightly, continuing to arrange his tools as he began to explain. "Do you know what the Resonance Realm is?" he asked, looking at Yan Jin out of the corner of his eye.

Yan Jin shook his head. He had only the barest understanding of resonance and how it worked, though what he had seen from Nie Li earlier had stirred his curiosity.

"The Awakening Realm is all about strengthening the body, forging blood vessels strong enough to house the bloodline. Purification, as you know, is about cleansing and refining that blood, making it as close to the purest form of your ancestral line as possible. With each refinement, you get closer to your true potential.

But Resonance, its goal is simple: it's about harmonizing with that ancient bloodline, bringing yourself into perfect sync with the source of your power."

The old man paused, watching Yan Jin as he absorbed this.

"The purer your bloodline, the higher your resonance can be. But here's the catch—humans are fragile. Our bodies can't house the full power of an ancient beast's bloodline. Even a sliver of that original power can tear us apart. That's why we harmonize through blood tools," he added.

"So, is the Throne of Pride a blood tool?" Yan Jin asked, the realization dawning.

The old man gave a small nod. "Calling it a blood tool isn't wrong, but it's more than that. It's one of the seven Unranked Blood Tools. Unranked because their power is impossible to gauge."

Yan Jin furrowed his brow. "Why can't they be gauged?"

"Because the unranked blood tools weren't forged by any human hand or technique—they were formed by nature itself. They have a consciousness. They choose you, not the other way around."

Yan Jin's eyes widened. "So Nie Yang has the Throne as his resonance blood tool? Doesn't that mean he's invincible?"

The old man chuckled softly at that. "Invincible? There's no such thing. Sure, that kid acts like a madman, but he's incredibly well-versed in the art of war. The Throne wouldn't have chosen him if he wasn't. Power comes down to three things: your natural endowments, like your bloodline and special frame; your external support, like blood tools and techniques; and your cultivation level. Stay updated via m-v l|e'm,p y r

Most people have an imbalance in one of these areas, which is why some can fight above their rank."

Yan Jin considered that. It made sense—he'd faced opponents stronger than him in cultivation, but their weakness in other aspects had been his edge.

"Do you know what the throne's attributes are?" Yan Jin asked, curiosity driving him.

The old man's gaze turned serious. "I don't know the exact details, but I've heard its other name whispered in hushed tones: The Throne of the Undying."

Yan Jin's heart skipped a beat at that. A blood tool with a name like that... the possibilities were terrifying.

--

Yan Jin carefully carried the sleeping Scara as he made his way through the tower back to his quarters. A sense of calm washed over him, knowing his companion was now healed. But as he approached his room, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. "Not again," he muttered with mild irritation.

He pushed the door open to find a woman lounging on his bed, dressed in tight leather that clung to her form, exuding an air of sensuality.

"Who are you?" Yan Jin asked, his voice sharp.

The woman smiled softly, her tone smooth as silk. "I am Lady Cat. My lord sent me to invite you."

Yan Jin's gaze narrowed. "And who is your master?"

"Void Lord He Chen," she replied with a bow of her head.

Raising his eyebrows in slight surprise, Yan Jin nodded. "Lead the way," he said, still carrying Scara as he followed her out of the room.

They walked down a specific path, familiar yet somehow different, until they reached an elevator. As it ascended, Yan Jin noticed the increasing pressure in the air. They finally arrived on the 60th floor, stepping onto a terrace that was open to the elements. For the first time in seven months, Yan Jin felt the cold breeze against his skin, sharp and biting.

The wind howled fiercely, the force of it indicative of the tower's constant movement.

On the edge of the terrace stood a man, around Nie Yang's age, dressed in black. His short purple hair blew slightly in the wind, a scar running across his face giving him a hardened, dangerous look.

"You're finally here," the man said, his voice low and smooth.

The gusting winds and the open sky stirred Scara from his slumber, and the baby garuda shook in Yan Jin's arms, eager to be free. Yan Jin loosened his grip, and Scara shot into the sky with powerful beats of his wings. The baby garuda took flight, rising into the air, its icy blue feathers glinting against the night sky.

The wings spread wide, majestic and graceful, cutting through the wind as it circled the terrace.

"The view is majestic, don't you think?" He Chen continued, watching the horizon.

"I'll take your word for it," Yan Jin replied, nonchalantly, eyes flicking toward the flying Scara.

He Chen turned slightly toward him. "Your companion is magnificent."

"It's not a pet," Yan Jin corrected coldly. "It's my companion."

"My apologies," He Chen said with a slight nod. "I meant no disrespect."

"What do you want to talk about?" Yan Jin cut to the chase, his patience thin.

He Chen's tone grew more serious. "One year ago, I received a message from my master. He told me he had given the last exit token to someone, but he wasn't sure if it was the right choice. However, he said that person would be the key to freeing us from this tower." His eyes glinted as he looked at Yan Jin. "Since then, I've waited.

I apologize for involving you like this, but like your companion, I needed to fly."

Yan Jin's expression remained unreadable. "If you're trying to make me feel sympathy for aligning yourself with Nie Yang and using me, spare me. I'm not interested in allying with you or your master."

A slow clap interrupted their conversation, and Nie Yang stepped out of the shadows. His eyes burned with intensity as he gazed at Yan Jin. "When did you figure it out?" he asked, his voice amused.

Yan Jin met his gaze coolly. "The moment you pulled out that broken chair, everything fell into place."

The wind howled around them as the three stood in silence. He Chen was as still as the void itself, Nie Yang blazed with fiery intensity, and Yan Jin stood like a cold, unyielding force.

"This tower has been a prison for many of us," He Chen finally said, his voice laced with determination. "We need to get out. And I'm sorry for what I've done, but this temporary alliance is for the sake of freedom. You, Yan Jin, will have to carry the burden for us."

Yan Jin's eyes flashed with icy rage. "You're not sorry. You're just disgusted that you're as vile as the people you claim to oppose." His voice cut through the wind like a blade. "If you think my life will be the price for your freedom, you're dead wrong. The moment you made me your enemy, you sealed your fate. I'll come for you—even if you don't come for me."

Nie Yang's smirk grew wider. "I didn't choose you because I thought you were weak. It would be far too easy if you simply accepted your fate."

"It was a gamble, I was willing to take. I suggest you make use of the tower. You might have talent, but if you are given time to grow you wont ever amount to anything" Nie Yang added raising his eyebrows.

"Thanks, for the advice. But even right now you wouldn't be able to hurt me if I go all out against you. You had your chance six months ago and you lost it" Yan Jin replied with a serene face.

The three of them stood in tense silence, the atmosphere thick with the weight of their unspoken intentions. Above them, Scara soared gracefully through the night sky, illuminated by the faint glow of the rising sun. The breeze whispered around them, but none moved to speak, all too aware that the next time they faced each other, it would be a battle defined by duty, vengeance, and survival.

Quietly, the sun rose, casting a soft light over the terrace. It was a fleeting moment of peace before the inevitable storm.