CHAPTER 162: CORRUPTION

The elves behind her lowered their heads instinctively, as though hearing a divine song beyond mortal comprehension.

"Mistress," Ye Qingxue called softly, but she only lifted a hand in silent reassurance before continuing forward.

The sound of her boots against the living ground was almost drowned out by the whispering vibration beneath her. The deeper she went, the stronger it became, until the faint thrum seemed to merge with the rhythm of her pulse.

When she was within three meters of the trunk, the earth gave a low, resonant groan.

The roots shifted.

For a moment, Ling Yu froze. The massive, gnarled roots beneath her feet trembled, then coiled slowly, twisting like serpents awakening from slumber. The bark of the colossal trunk split down the middle, not violently, but gently, like an eyelid opening.

A glow emerged from within.

It was soft at first, like moonlight filtering through fog, but quickly grew brighter, radiant strands of light cascading down the tree’s surface like liquid crystal. It felt like being in the presence of something divine, something eternal.

Then, she heard it.

A voice, not spoken aloud, but resonating within her mind.

’Child of the Lost World...’

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t a single voice; it was countless, layered upon one another, each tone ancient and vast. Male and female, young and old, all speaking in harmony like the song of the earth itself.

’You have walked among ruin and shadow... bearing the stench of death and rebirth. You are not born of this realm, yet you carry its pulse within you.’

Ling Yu’s brows furrowed slightly. The language wasn’t human, not even elvish; it was something far older. Yet somehow, she understood every word.

Her fingers itched, and before she realized it, her hand reached toward the glowing bark.

The surface rippled beneath her touch, warm, soft, almost like skin.

The world around her dimmed.

The hum of the forest faded into silence. The wind stopped. Even time seemed to still. The only thing that remained was the rhythmic pulse that echoed between her chest and the Tree.

Suddenly, visions burst behind her eyes.

She saw oceans of stars, vast and endless. Planets blooming and withering like flowers in an eternal garden. A colossal shadow, something ancient and serpentine, sliding across the void. And then... fire. An endless, all-consuming fire.

’The corruption spreads,’ the voice murmured, no longer distant but inside her mind. ’The roots of the world rot. The balance trembles. You, bearer of the mark, are the chosen flame to purge the decay.’

The sigil on her hand flared. The golden pattern pulsed rapidly, as if it were answering the Tree’s rhythm.

Ling Yu grit her teeth, grounding herself through sheer will. "Why me?" she asked quietly. Her voice echoed into the silence, carried by something deeper than air.

For a long moment, the Tree did not answer. Then, in a whisper like wind over glass, it said:

’Because your soul remembers the light.’

Her eyes widened.

’You are bound by oath and sin. The sigil upon your hand, born not from fate, but choice. You carry the essence of rebirth. You will walk paths no mortal may tread.’

Her heartbeat pounded louder, in sync with the vibration beneath her.

Go to the Cradle of Roots,’ the voice continued. ’Beneath this forest lies what the elves have forgotten. There, you will find the first shard of the Broken Covenant. Only then may the seal upon your soul be undone.’

"Broken Covenant...?" she whispered, her mind spinning.

Before she could ask more, the glow flared blindingly bright. She staggered backward, shielding her eyes as golden light erupted from the fissure in the bark. It swirled around her like ribbons of living energy, weaving intricate runes in the air.

Each rune sank into her body one by one, leaving trails of faint warmth behind. She gasped, feeling them settle deep within her mana core, melding, binding, awakening something dormant inside.

’You have been marked anew,’ the Tree whispered, its tone fading, the echoes softening into calm. ’Follow the roots, child of light and shadow. The path opens for you now.’

As the light dimmed, the bark slowly closed, returning to its serene, ancient stillness. The hum beneath her feet softened into silence.

Ling Yu stood there for a long while, breathing steadily, staring at her hand. The sigil had changed. The once faint gold mark now gleamed brighter, the design more intricate, woven through with faint emerald lines, as if the Tree’s energy had merged with her own.

When she turned back, the elves were kneeling, with their heads bowed low, faces alight with awe. Even the First Elder’s voice trembled slightly.

Seeing their nervous appearance, even Ye Qingxue and Nie Ziyu were wondering whether they should also kneel down or not.

"The Tree... it spoke to you," he said. "That has not happened in thousands of years."

Ling Yu simply nodded, her gaze still distant. "It told me what I needed to know."

As she passed them, the First Elder called out again, voice reverent. "What did it say to you, O chosen one?"

Ling Yu paused for a heartbeat, then looked back, eyes calm yet unreadable. "That the roots of this world are dying," she said softly. "And I’m the one who has to fix it."

The elves stared in silence as she walked past, her white robes catching the light of the dying sun, her figure both mortal and divine, her shadow long and steady against the trembling roots of the world’s oldest tree.

The branches of the World Tree began to move.

At first, it was slow, so subtle that Ling Yu thought it might’ve been her imagination. But then the thick boughs above her rustled, trembling with purpose. One after another, the massive limbs began to unfurl, bending down toward her like the arms of a slumbering giant awakening from a dream.

The air trembled. A faint, shimmering light descended, and before she could react, one of the colossal branches coiled gently around her waist.