The twelve corpse-like figures suddenly stirred, faint tendrils of an inexplicable aura seeping from them. The once-empty expanse grew heavy, oppressive, as if the air itself thickened with unseen weight.


    One by one, their closed eyes snapped open—cold, emotionless, devoid of any spark. Their gazes swept over the gathered crowd, pressing down like an invisible force.


    Han’s mind raced. This felt familiar. It reminded him of the two gatekeepers in the Ascension Hall—a man and a woman, eerily similar to these twelve. Were they puppets too?


    “Intruders,” a voice cut through the silence, “have you come for the Legacy Mandate?”


    Among the twelve, a young-looking figure stepped forward. A scar ran across his forehead, resembling a third eye—an uncanny mark that drew attention. He spoke with an air of detachment.


    The crowd exchanged uncertain glances. “Legacy Mandate?” What did that even mean?


    Someone mustered the courage to ask, “Senior, what’s this Legacy Mandate you speak of?”


    The “Third Eye” youth replied coolly, “It is the will passed down by the Tianming Sect.”


    That clicked for some. A legacy, perhaps—a remnant of the Tianming Sect left behind in this place?


    Min Xing, ever bold, stepped up. “We’re here for exactly that. How do we claim this Legacy Mandate of the Tianming Sect?”


    The youth’s gaze swept over them. “To enter the Ding Six Beast Arena, the Realm of Destiny, you must bear a Stone of Revelation—or defeat us, the beast guardians.”


    Stone of Revelation? The term hung in the air, unfamiliar. Questions erupted immediately.


    “The Beast Arena holds scattered Stones of Revelation,” the youth explained. “They also form within the bodies of Bone Refining beasts.”


    Han’s thoughts snapped to the moon-white stones he and Bai Ruoyue had pried from the skulls of those Bone Refining beasts. Could it be?


    “Is this the stone you mean?!” someone shouted, holding up a similar rock. Jin Shui had found one outside the misty zones—proof that luck could favor even the weaker ones. The Third Eye youth gave a curt nod, confirming it.


    A ripple of excitement spread through the group. Several clutched their own Stones of Revelation, faces lighting up.


    “Senior, I’ve got a Stone of Revelation! How do I enter the Realm of Destiny?” one called out.


    “I’ve got one too!” another chimed in.


    The clamor grew. Six of the puppets moved forward, positioning themselves at the bronze gate. Their hands pressed against it, glowing faintly. With an eerie silence—no creak, no groan—the massive gate began to slide open, revealing a void of utter darkness beyond. From outside, nothing could be seen.


    “Those with Stones of Revelation may enter the Realm of Destiny directly,” the youth declared.


    A few cheered and surged forward, only to be stopped short. Fang Cheng from the Tianlong Gate stepped in their path.


    “Senior,” Fang Cheng asked the Third Eye youth, “does one stone grant entry for just one person?”


    A slight nod.


    “And if I trade for someone else’s stone, can I use that to get in too?”


    Another nod.


    Fang Cheng turned to the crowd, raising his voice. “Everyone, I’m Fang Cheng, an inner disciple of the Haizhou Tianlong Gate. My group of four is short two Stones of Revelation. I’m willing to trade treasures for them—any takers?”


    The stones were hard-won—either through strength or dumb luck. Fang Cheng’s crew clearly lacked the muscle to dominate the caverns, and their luck hadn’t been stellar either, netting them only two stones.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The alternative—fighting these beast guardians—wasn’t even on the table. The twelve exuded a crushing presence. When they’d first awakened, their mere stares had felt like mountains pressing down on everyone. The Bone Refining beasts roaming the outer caverns were tough, but these guardians? They’d be leagues stronger. Why guard anything otherwise?


    Challenging them seemed less appealing than scouring the caverns for more stones.


    Min Xing from the Shenhua Sect and Dong Weiyu, the Dong family’s leader here, echoed Fang Cheng’s plea. Each faction had a stone or two, but they all wanted their entire groups inside the Realm of Destiny.


    The weight of these three major powers made some hesitate. No one wanted to part with their stones, yet they feared crossing these juggernauts. Plus, their own affiliations—most hailing from county-level dominant factions or deeply tied to them—meant personal gain wasn’t the only stake. The Legacy Mandate tied into the fates of their backers. They weren’t free to decide alone.


    While the others wavered, Han and Bai Ruoyue strode toward the gate, stones in hand.


    Xiao Zhi from the Tianlong Gate called out, “Han, Bai Ruoyue—got any spare Stones of Revelation?”


    Han glanced at him. “Sure do.”


    Xiao Zhi’s face brightened, but before he could speak, Han continued, “Oh, thousands—tens of thousands, even. Want some?”


    Xiao Zhi’s expression darkened. Two or three extra stones? Maybe believable. Thousands? Han was obviously screwing with him.


    Just before stepping through the gate, Han paused and asked the Third Eye youth, “Senior, was this place built as a legacy site by the Tianming Sect?”


    The youth met his eyes. “When Tianming fell, all was reduced to the Legacy Mandate, preserved to be passed on.”


    So it wasn’t originally a legacy site—only after the Tianming Sect’s collapse did it become one. Han’s curiosity piqued. This guy knew the sect was gone? The Ascension Hall gatekeepers had been clueless, prattling about elders and spirits, even telling Han to wait for sect disciples to escort him to the Hall of Ten Thousand Paths. Wait for what—ghosts?


    This Third Eye youth seemed sharper—more aware—than those two.


    Lost in thought, Han and Bai Ruoyue crossed the threshold. Darkness swallowed them whole, their figures vanishing.


    Panic flickered through the crowd. What if it was first-come, first-served? If they lagged, would the Legacy Mandate slip away? The three major factions didn’t wait—stronger disciples grabbed stones and rushed in, while the rest kept haggling with the holdouts.


    Inside, the darkness snuffed out all senses. Han stayed calm, pressing forward. Then, a faint heat pulsed from the Seed of Transformation in his body. A sensation of weightlessness followed, and light flooded in.


    When his vision cleared, Han froze. He stood in a room, alone except for an elderly figure—another puppet, motionless like the twelve outside before they’d awakened. Worse, Bai Ruoyue was gone.


    A twinge of worry hit him. Hope she’s okay.


    “Greetings, Lord,” a voice rasped. The old puppet stirred, speaking.


    Lord? Me? Han blinked. What if Master wasn’t wrong—am I some reincarnated big shot?


    “Who are you?” Han asked.


    “Ding Six Beast Arena, Guardian of the Realm of Destiny. Human-Spirit Grade Puppet, Ding Liuling.”


    So, a puppet—but not like any Han knew.


    “Why call me ‘Lord’?”


    “All Tianming Sect puppets must address the Tianming Immortal Seed as such.”


    Han’s brain stalled. Immortal Seed? Me?


    “Where’s the warrior who came with me?”


    “She’s seeking the Legacy Mandate,” Ding Liuling replied.


    “Did you bring me here?”


    A nod.


    “Can you bring her here too?”


    “No.”


    “Can I contact her?”


    “Not before inheriting the Legacy Mandate.”


    Han stared at Ding Liuling, the exchange growing stranger by the second. This puppet was alive—or damn close to it.


    “Do you know what’s happened to the Tianming Sect?”


    “The Ding Six Beast Arena’s legacy function activated, the beast grounds decayed— Tianming Sect must have fallen long ago.”


    “Then why peg me as an Immortal Seed? If it’s been that long, shouldn’t they all be dead?”


    “Your power,” Ding Liuling said. “My memory identifies it as something only a Tianming Immortal Seed would possess.”


    Han frowned, piecing it together. He meant the Seed of Transformation—the top reward from the Ascension Hall. Back when the sect thrived, an outsider earning that might’ve been inducted as an Immortal Seed, groomed for greatness. But with Tianming gone, Han hadn’t joined anything. Yet Ding Liuling still recognized him as one.


    That same surreal vibe from facing Black-and-White Brother and Blind Sister crept back.


    “Are you a puppet or a living being?”


    “I’m a Human-Spirit Grade puppet—imbued with specific memories by my creator, tasked with specific duties. I can converse within limits, but I’m not alive.”


    So the Tianming Sect had even higher-grade puppets—living ones, maybe? Even this “Human-Spirit” version was uncanny. It looked human, talked human.


    Han nodded, getting it. In his past life’s terms, Ding Liuling was like a humanoid program—a Taoist puppet A.I. No wonder the sect’s collapse didn’t stop them. As long as their bodies held and energy flowed, they’d last. Dead things outlived the living, especially in a dormant state with minimal drain.


    “Why bring me here?”


    “Tianming fell. Per my creator’s command, I must pass down the Legacy Mandate of the Ding Six Beast Arena.”


    “Beast grounds? You mean those wild beasts outside?”


    A nod. “Wild beasts are born chaotic, mindless. The Ding Six Beast Arena was built to change that. The Tianming Sect sought to awaken their intellect, then meld the strengths of many beasts into one—intelligence like a demon, a body like a dragon or phoenix. That’s a ‘beast.’ But before it succeeded, Tianming crumbled.”


    Han went quiet, at a loss for words. Melding beast traits into one? He’d seen it—those patchwork monsters out there. Awakening beast minds, crafting lifelike puppets, maybe even living ones… Biological experiments and artificial life? What was the Tianming Sect?