MY HIDDEN TALENT IS FORBIDDEN BY THE HEAVENS-Chapter 116: THE FRACTURE REMEMBERS

Chapter 116 — THE FRACTURE REMEMBERS

The chamber did not change.

The fractured core remained embedded in black stone.

The air was still thick.

The faint red pulse continued, slower now—measured.

Long Hao’s hand was still raised.

The light-thread between him and the core had snapped.

Zehell stood half a step behind him, spear angled defensively, silver lines glowing faintly.

Longyu’s voice broke the silence first.

"...That is strange."

Long Hao didn’t lower his hand yet.

"What is?"

"There was no counter-response."

He blinked once.

"No rejection protocol. No suppression wave. No seal reinforcement."

The core pulsed once.

Calm.

Long Hao’s lips curved slightly.

"So it accepted me."

Longyu did not respond immediately.

"That is what concerns me."

He let out a quiet breath.

"Relax. I’m still standing."

The words were barely out when—

Something tore through his chest.

Not from outside.

From within.

His breath hitched.

The pressure that had stabilized suddenly inverted.

Pain exploded across his ribcage like something splitting from the inside.

His knees buckled.

Zehell reacted instantly.

"Long Hao!"

She grabbed his shoulder before he hit the stone floor fully.

His body convulsed once—hard.

The chamber trembled faintly in response.

[ SYNCHRONIZATION: 51% ][ CORE INSTABILITY WARNING ]

Longyu’s voice rose sharply.

"Instability spike detected!"

He couldn’t answer.

The pain wasn’t sharp.

It was vast.

Like his bones were being rewritten.

Zehell pressed a hand against his chest instinctively.

Her spear dropped beside her.

"Focus on your breathing," she said firmly.

He tried.

But the chamber began to distort.

Not visually.

Spatially.

The black stone walls stretched outward.

The red pulse deepened.

Then everything tilted.

The world did not fade into darkness.

It dissolved into something else.

—

He was standing.

But not in the chamber.

The air was different.

Warm.

Still.

Golden light spilled across wooden floors.

He blinked.

The chamber was gone.

In its place—

A house.

Modest.

Sunlight filtering through open windows.

The smell of cooked rice and something sweet.

His hands looked different.

Larger.

Older.

Scarred—but not from recent battle.

He was in his thirties, maybe forties.

No armor. No assassin gear. Simple clothing.

A domestic scene.

He turned slowly.

Footsteps.

Soft.

Light.

Zehell stepped into view.

But not Zehell as she was now.

No battle-worn composure. No spear at her back.

Her hair was tied loosely, falling over one shoulder.

She was smiling.

Soft.

Familiar.

"Dinner’s ready, Darling." she said gently.

His heart stopped.

He tried to speak.

Nothing came.

Another sound—

Laughter.

A child.

A small figure ran into the room.

A little girl.

Green strands of hair catching light.

Brown eyes—

Except when he focused on her face—

It blurred.

Not darkness.

Just absence.

Blank.

Like a canvas not yet painted.

She ran toward him.

"Father—"

The word echoed.

His chest tightened painfully.

He stepped forward.

He reached out.

His fingers passed through air.

Everything shattered.

The house cracked like glass.

The sunlight warped.

The child’s blank face tilted—

Then blackness swallowed everything.

—

He was falling.

Not physically.

Through memory. Through space. Through time.

Then—

Night.

Cold.

Urban rooftops.

Moonlight sharp and silver.

And he was no longer inside a body.

He was watching.

Watching himself in Third person. Detached.

Long Hao, THE SHADOW KING was running across irregular terrain.

Breathing steady despite the agonizing pain tearing through his chest.

His black combat jacket—once pristine—hung in strips.

A thin line of blood traced down his jaw.

But his eyes—

Sharp.

Clear.

Unbroken.

Shadows flitted across rooftops.

Metal flashed in the moonlight.

Assassins.

Over twenty.

Closing in.

"Target confirmed," hissed a voice from darkness. "Do not allow him to escape."

"Escape?" the Shadow King sneered. "From clowns like you? I’m not going to—"

Three charged at once.

Blades gleaming.

Long Hao’s body spun with surgical precision.

Elbow smashed into the first attacker’s throat.

Wet crunch.

The body collapsed.

The second dagger swept toward his back—

He pivoted.

Caught the wrist mid-air.

Snap.

A scream cut short.

The third never saw it coming.

A foot struck his breastbone.

The assassin flew backward.

But it was nothing.

More silhouettes.

More killing intent.

Like a storm tightening around one point.

Long Hao wiped blood from his cheek.

"Twenty-five assassins for one man." He laughed softly. "The Shadow Hall really wants me dead."

A voice from above:

"Shadow King Long Hao. You’ve killed too many of our elites. Tonight, you return to darkness."

He dropped into stance.

"Come try."

The night exploded.

Steel rang.

Blades carved arcs of silver death.

But Long Hao moved like a ghost.

Throat slashed open.

Heart impaled.

Knee shattered.

A dagger twisted back into its owner’s skull.

Bodies fell.

One after another.

He did not hesitate.

Did not waste breath.

Every movement calculated.

Every strike lethal.

A wrist caught mid-air.

Click.

Another attacker dropped.

A low strike came—

He sidestepped.

Foot crushed bone.

A hidden dagger flicked through air—

Embedded in a forehead.

He kept moving.

His coat torn across the chest.

A diagonal scar visible beneath moonlight.

Souvenirs of old battles.

"Long Hao!" a masked assassin roared. "You killed nine of our elites. Tonight, you die!"

Blood stained the corner of his lips.

"You idiots have been trying to kill me for years," he muttered. "Shouldn’t you be used to disappointment by now?"

They charged again.

Steel met steel.

His lean muscles coiled and released.

Every motion efficient.

Every breath deliberate.

A throat crushed.

A blade reversed.

An elbow shattered bone.

Bodies hit ground in succession.

But he bled too.

A slice across the abdomen.

A dagger lodged in his shoulder.

Breathing faster now.

Still controlled.

Eyes still sharp.

He fought like something cornered—but unbroken.

This was the Shadow King.

A name whispered in fear.

A presence that ended lives without noise.

Now—

Alone.

Outnumbered.

Another wave.

He killed them.

One.

Two.

Three.

But slower.

Vision blurring.

By the time he staggered back—

Only six remained.

Nineteen bodies scattered around him.

Blood pooling in moonlight.

The leader stepped forward.

"Even in death," the masked assassin said coldly, "you are a monster."

Long Hao’s red-tinged eyes gleamed.

"Monster?" he echoed faintly. "If that’s what you call it... then the heavens underestimated me."

A blade pierced his abdomen from behind.

He didn’t scream.

Didn’t kneel.

He lowered his gaze briefly—

Then lifted his chin.

Defiance.

"Any last words, Shadow King?"

He spat blood.

"Tell the heavens..." he coughed, the world tilting. "...Long Hao never kneels."

Five blades drove through him.

Simultaneous.

He bit down on the leader’s neck.

Blood spraying.

A final act.

A final kill.

He laughed.

"You should have expected at least that much."

His body collapsed.

The moonlight dimmed.

Darkness swallowed the ground.

One heartbeat.

Then another.

And silence.

—

The astral vision snapped violently.

Pain surged back into his chest.

He gasped.

Zehell was still holding him upright in the chamber.

"Long Hao!"

Her voice was sharp now.

Urgent.

His vision refocused slowly.

Black stone walls.

Red fractured core.

Not the moonlit battlefield.

Not the house.

He inhaled sharply.

The pain faded gradually into dull pressure.

[ SYNCHRONIZATION: 50% STABLE ]

Longyu’s voice was quiet.

"Memory retrieval exceeded safety threshold."

He swallowed once.

"That wasn’t just memory."

"No."

He steadied himself and pushed off Zehell gently.

"I’m fine."

"You were convulsing," she said flatly.

"I’m still standing."

She searched his face.

"You saw something."

"Yes."

"What?"

He hesitated.

The house.

The child.

Her face blank.

The battlefield.

His death.

"I saw what happens if I lose control."

That wasn’t entirely a lie.

Zehell did not press further.

But her eyes darkened slightly.

The fractured core pulsed again.

Slower now.

As if satisfied.

Longyu whispered:

"It remembers you."

He stared at the embedded half-sphere.

"And I remember it."

But enough.

The chamber did not tremble.

The core did not flare.

It simply pulsed.

Patient.

Waiting.

And Long Hao finally understood—

The Anchor had not attacked.

Because it never saw him as an enemy.

It saw him as continuation.

And continuation... always demands completion.

The silence in the chamber deepened.

And for the first time since stepping into Ruinsand—

Long Hao felt something beyond fear.

Not dread.

Not excitement.

Recognition.

The fracture remembered.

And so did he.

[Chapter ENDS]