Master of Shattered Fates

Night had fallen by the time the Discipline Committee disciples were relieved of their guard duty. Whatever was happening in the garden had required more and more senior disciples throughout the day, until finally these two were also summoned. They left Liu Chen with stern warnings to remain in the medical pavilion, though they didn't bother posting replacements. After all, where would a worthless disciple go?

Liu Chen waited until their footsteps faded before sitting up carefully. His head still ached, but the pain had dulled to a manageable throb. More importantly, his new vision had started to stabilize. The fate lines no longer swam at the edge of his perception—now they hung in the air like delicate spider webs, each thread distinct and somehow meaningful.

He could see how they connected everything in the room: the bed to the floor, the walls to each other, even the air itself seemed woven from countless gossamer strands. Different types of connections had different colors and textures. The structural lines holding the building together were a steady bronze, while the lines representing the flow of time shimmered like liquid silver.

Most interesting were the golden threads that seemed to represent pure fate—destiny itself made visible. They were everywhere, connecting past to future, choice to consequence, forming intricate patterns that his mind struggled to comprehend.

Moving carefully to avoid drawing attention from anyone who might pass by, Liu Chen made his way to the window. The paper screens had been left partially open to allow fresh air into the room, and through the gap, he could see the garden where everything had changed.

His breath caught.

The old tree was transformed. Its gnarled branches, once bare and lifeless, now bloomed with thousands of black flowers. Each petal seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, creating an impossible void in the shape of a flower. But it was the fate lines that made the sight truly spectacular.

Golden threads poured from the flowers like water, forming a cascading curtain of light that rippled in an unfelt wind. The threads spread outward, connecting to everything they touched, creating new patterns and pathways through reality itself. Even from this distance, Liu Chen could sense the power radiating from the tree. No wonder the formations were struggling to contain it.

More interesting were the disciples attempting to study the phenomenon. Liu Chen could see their fate lines clearly—each cultivator trailing their own unique pattern of destiny. But when they tried to interact with the tree's power, their lines seemed to slip right past the golden threads without making contact.

They can't touch them, Liu Chen realized. Just like I couldn't before. But now...

He raised his hand, focusing on one of the fate lines that drifted through his room. Remember the feeling from earlier, when he'd instinctively grasped Master Feng's technique. The thread felt solid under his mental touch, like a silk ribbon made of light.

Carefully, ever so carefully, he twisted.

The line kinked, changing direction according to his will. A small change, barely noticeable in the grand tapestry of fate that surrounded him. But the implications were staggering.

He could manipulate fate itself.

A sound in the hallway made him quickly release the thread, but it was only a passing servant. Liu Chen returned to his bed, mind racing with possibilities. He had spent years studying cultivation theory, understanding how fate energy was supposed to work. Now he could finally put that knowledge to use—but not in any way the academy's teachings had prepared him for.

Normal cultivation involved seeing fate lines and drawing on their power to strengthen oneself. What he had just done was different. Direct manipulation of destiny's threads. Was this what that strange voice had meant about tangled fates?

His thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps—multiple sets, moving with purpose. Liu Chen quickly lay back, feigning sleep as voices became audible outside his door.

"—unprecedented. The energy readings are off any scale we have." That was Master Feng's voice.

"But what triggered it?" A woman's voice, unfamiliar but carrying authority. "That tree has stood dormant for generations. Why would it suddenly—"

"Honored Elders." Elder Sun's voice, tired but insistent. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion somewhere more private?"

A moment of silence, then the footsteps moved away. But not before Liu Chen caught a fragment of whispered conversation:

"—just like the records described. Black flowers blooming when the—"

"Silence! Such matters are not for open discussion."

Liu Chen waited until he was sure they were gone before opening his eyes. What records? What did the black flowers signify that had the elders so concerned?

He turned his head to look out the window again, studying the fate lines that poured from the transformed tree. There was a pattern there, if he could just understand it. Something about the way the threads interacted, the way they...

His eyes widened.

The tree's fate lines weren't just spreading randomly. They were searching. Like countless golden fingers reaching out through the academy, following some purpose he couldn't yet grasp. And as he watched, more and more of them seemed to be gathering around the medical pavilion.

Around him.

A chill ran down Liu Chen's spine as he realized what that might mean. He wasn't just seeing the fate lines. Somehow, he had become part of whatever ancient purpose had awakened in that garden.

The question was: had anyone else noticed?

As if in answer to his thought, a new set of footsteps approached his room. These moved differently—silent except for the faintest whisper of silk on wood. Liu Chen quickly closed his eyes again, but not before he caught a glimpse of fate lines unlike any he'd seen before.

The door slid open silently.

"Well, well." A woman's voice, soft as falling snow. "What an interesting little butterfly you've become, child. Such small wings, to have stirred so great a storm."

Liu Chen kept his breathing steady, maintained his pretense of sleep. But his new senses could feel the stranger's power filling the room like a creeping frost.

"Oh, you can stop pretending." Amusement colored her tone. "I can see you're awake. Just as I can see so much more about you now. The question is... what shall we do about it?"

Liu Chen opened his eyes.

The woman standing in his doorway was beauty carved from ice. White hair, pale skin, robes that seemed woven from moonlight. But it was her fate lines that made him catch his breath. They weren't gold like most he'd seen, or even the complex patterns that surrounded Master Feng.

Her lines were pure silver, and they moved like living things.

"Who..." Liu Chen's voice cracked. He swallowed and tried again. "Who are you?"

Her smile was winter given form.

"Someone who has been waiting a very long time for flowers to bloom again." She glided forward, silver fate lines coiling through the air. "Tell me, little butterfly... how much do you know about the true history of the Nine Suns Academy?"