Chapter 1431 - 1432: The league of soulweavers

The chant echoed through the chamber like an incantation pulled from the marrow of the world. The words weren’t merely sound, they were pressure, heavy and ancient, grinding against Liam’s very soul.

However, Liam’s soul was now strong enough to withstand a simple assault like this. He gritted his teeth and simply shielded the attack. The air grew dense, every syllable a nail pinning reality to something older and deeper than what should exist.

Liam didn’t flinch. He stood his ground at the threshold, his gaze sweeping across the room. The figures weren’t just random cultivators. Maybe they once were, but now they were just soulbound husks.

Their skin was pale and waxy, their auras hollow. They weren’t dead, but they weren’t fully alive either. Caught in a liminal space, perhaps still clinging to the altar’s power like moths to a dying flame.

A whisper echoed in his mind. “They failed.”

His eyes snapped back to the rune on the altar. The very same symbol that had haunted his meditations now glowed faintly with an inner fire. It pulsed once, and the chanting ceased as suddenly as it had begun.

The husks lowered their heads. Then, one by one, they slumped forward, their bodies dissolving into faint trails of soul essence that flowed toward the rune.

Liam didn’t step back, even as the air quivered and the altar trembled, even as the entire temple felt like it was shifting on some unseen axis.

“You have come.” The voice was back, calm, deep, eternal. “Will you succeed, where the others failed?”

Liam raised his hand and stepped closer to the altar. “I don’t plan to fail. Let’s begin.” He instinctively knew what to do as he pressed his palm to the rune.

The next second, his consciousness was hurled inward, plummeting into a churning void of soul force, memory fragments, and alien landscapes. Here, time did not flow forward. There was no direction, no light, no ground. Just will.

And the trial began.

Liam felt the pressure of countless eyes, some familiar, others alien, and many that didn’t even feel mortal. They weren’t physical, but impressions in the soul-space. Whispers flooded him, not in words but in truths, raw, unfiltered shards of understanding that pierced deeper than language.

“Name yourself.”

The demand echoed, not in the air, but within Liam’s core. It wasn’t asking for a title or a name from the tongue. It wanted his essence, the truth behind every mask he’d ever worn.

Liam gritted his teeth. A flame burst around him, not fire, but soulfire. Blue, white, and strange colors without a name. It stripped him bare. Every weakness, every regret, every selfish act, and moment of hesitation was dredged to the surface and peeled away like rot from bone.

Memories flashed in his mind. Long forgotten ones of his first kill, the betrayal that hardened him, the faces of those he couldn’t save. Each one carved away part of him. He screamed in pain as he felt as if his soul was going to be torn apart.

But he did not yield. At the center of the pain, Liam reached something buried and silent. A heartbeat. He reached into the fire. The flame coiled into his hand, becoming a brand, no, a sigil, that seared into his soul. The rune.

This was the true rune that was hidden in the ruin, not the other one the other guy obtained. That was merely an imitation the person had copied from a distance, but this was the true heritage, and now it belonged to Liam.

The void shattered. Light surged.

And Liam awoke on the altar, his palm still glowing. Around him, the ruined temple was still and empty. The husks were gone, dissolved into ash. Only silence remained.

But inside him… the rune now burned with power.

Liam was completely drenched in sweat from top to bottom. His mind was exhausted, and his soul was close to cracking and shattering. He had only barely pulled through. It was good that he visited this place after strengthening his soul to a good state. Otherwise, there was no telling what could have happened.

Even if he had come here a few weeks earlier, he would’ve been reduced to nothing more than another husk, just like the others, bound eternally to chant before the altar of failure.

Liam steadied his breathing, his entire body trembling under the weight of what had just been seared into his being. The rune was no longer a symbol to him. It was alive. It pulsed faintly beneath his skin, nestled in his soul like a buried star.

When Liam tried to reach it, a system notification suddenly popped up.

[Soul Rune of Origin: Awakened]

Effect: Enhances soul regeneration by 30%. Increases resistance to soul-based attacks. Enables soul imprinting.

Liam blinked. “So the system recognizes this progress?” He was pleasantly surprised. This was not much but this was definitely more information, something he could search with. He chuckled weakly, his voice hoarse. “Worth it,” he muttered, even as blood trickled from his nose.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. He simply sat there in the ruins, letting the last vestiges of the soul trial drain from his bones. Then, with a sigh, he stood.

The moment he did, he felt the world respond. Somewhere in the distance, spirit beasts howled. Trees bent toward him. Even the wind changed direction.

Somewhere, in some sealed part of some hidden world, something ancient stirred awake.

Liam stood frozen. He couldn’t move. He could feel something but he did not know what exactly was going on. The next second he heard a vague phrase in his mind.

“The next heir of the league of soul weavers… the grand throne awaits you…”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t echo with majesty or thunder across his consciousness like divine proclamations. No, they came like a secret, a whisper passed through the breath of time itself. But the weight of them struck harder than any spiritual attack Liam had ever faced.

He stumbled slightly, catching himself against the altar, his breath ragged. The league of soul weavers? He had never heard of such a thing. His mind reeled from the knowledge as if he had just learned of something that he should not know.

For a moment, everything froze. The rune on his palm dimmed too, like it was falling asleep now that its job was done…. But Liam’s senses were sharper than ever.

Even with his soul battered and frayed, he could feel a new strand of energy coiling in his core. It was different from mana or vitality. It was older, more refined, threadlike, almost as if it could be woven into something else.

He instinctively opened his soul sea. There, suspended within the haze of his essence, was a thread of glowing silver-blue energy. One strand. Alone.

[Soulweaver Thread (1/999)]

A single soul-thread of creation.

Liam inhaled sharply. There it was another system notification. What the hell was going on? Was this a part of his soulmancer legacy? He stood still as he pondered the words that were spoken. They seemed to convey a lot more than just a bit of information.

But no matter how much he tried, he wasn’t able to even go near that profound truth. It was as if the thing was far beyond his reach.

All around him, the ruins started to tremor and quake. Dust rained down from the cracked ceiling. The stone beneath Liam’s feet rumbled as hairline fractures spiderwebbed across the chamber floor.

Liam did not care. He erected a strong barrier before he sat down to meditate. Even as the entire ruins crumbled around him and many screams sounded in the distance as other beings rushed to get out of the ruins and to safety, Liam continued his meditation without a care in the world.

Finally, after two entire days, he stood up to leave the place. He had gained a lot more here than he had ever expected. But then again, he only felt as if he had more questions now than before. No matter how much he tried, he was always facing one roadblock or the other.

What is the way out? What is the path for him to inherit his complete legacy? He clenched his fists in frustration and determination. He would not fail or give up. Even if the path ahead was difficult, he would somehow surmount it and grab his fate by whatever means necessary.

His robes were torn, his body was sore, but his eyes burned with something indescribable. He glanced at his palm where the rune had faded to a dull shimmer, now lying dormant under his skin. He took one last look at the now-collapsed temple behind him. What was once a forgotten ruin was now a buried grave.

Liam then silently left the place, disappearing into the shadows.

Whatever the League of Soul Weavers was… whatever the Grand Throne entailed… Liam had finally found a clue and taken the first step. He was not going to stop until he owned the entire legacy.

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