Darkness hovered over the infant’s sleeping face as the wife rocked the little swaddle beside her husband. Her knees were bent against the wooden floor. Her head was bowed low. Many Song clan members had gathered around in the vast space, sitting down before one of their most respectful leaders. The mother could feel eyes scrutinizing at the baby girl and the red floral mark in between her light brows.

“Pah!” grumbled the shaman. “If it weren’t for the Chieftain, Song Chu, this venerable one wouldn’t be doing this for you at all!”

By her side, the two sons lowered their eyes. The eldest meekly spoke, “What our mother means to say is that she is grateful toward your patronage. Please, do not take her words to heart. She did not get to rest properly as you all know with the elderly…”

It was awkward as the relatives stared at the men with pity.

“Of course, this one understands.” said the father, lifting his head from the floor. “It has been a long night for her…”

Already facing the soaring peach-wooden altar, Shaman Xia’s back was turned to the couple and their baby. She stood tall on the bench, dressed in a black outer robe with red layers underneath. Around her waist was a red sash and silver bells. On top of her white crown of hair was a headdress, decorated with streaming silver tassels and bells. It came with a red veil, floating like a ghost. The vermillion cloth covered the upper half of her wrinkled face.

“I can already tell you all this.” Everyone, including the old Chieftain, listened closely to the elder’s next words. She grinned. “This child possesses an interesting power, unlike any of what I had felt in my lifetime… She bears the divine mark of a crimson flower, which means that she is a gift from the Heaven realm to us.”

The people could not tell if the old woman was joking with them or not.

Currently, in the cultivation world, the Song clan was the laughingstock from across the land. Their ally, the kind and generous Shan Qing sect, was the only one that would send invitations for the Song cultivators to partake in martial arts and magic tournaments and large-scaled conferences. Aside from that, no one would acknowledge their spiritual communication skills, exorcism tactics, or ghost-hunting abilities. Long gone were the days when the clan had face and were welcomed to all events.

“Still, this shaman’s spirit will go visit the Netherworld.” Shaman Xia said it lightly. “Let us see why the Netherworld God’s fire makes this child laugh and the meaning of the Red Omen’s return.”

“Shaman Xia…” A man from the cluster of clan members chose to speak out, “What if this girl is the cause of this? She would not be a miracle at all—but a curse.”

“You…!” The father quickly turned to face his opponent and glared. “What are you trying to say about my daughter?”

Murmurs filled the inner hall of the Chieftain’s mansion. Some nodded their heads to the man’s theory. If it is true, then, they should do whatever it takes to protect the clan—and not the girl.

“Grandson.”

The shaman did not turn around. She continued to face the high altar.

“You dare to question this one?” The old woman paused. “Listen to your crazy talk. Do not slander a defenseless child. Have you no shame?!”

With his jaw clenched, the man bowed his head and did not say another word.

Sensing that the person now knows his place, the elder went on, “Now, where was I?” She nodded. “Ah, yes, I highly doubt that I can get past the Netherworld’s Crimson Flower Palace gates—but surely, maybe an ancestor will have an explanation for everything.”

From around the wooden bench, a shining golden dome manifested itself, encasing Shaman Xia with the supernatural. Here, she can use the space to interact with the Netherworld. Soon, the incantation began. So did the ritualistic dance of her riding the horse spirit.

To visit the Netherworld, the old woman closed her eyes. She murmured the spell in the isolated magical vicinity. On and on, the bells jingled along with the steady crashing of the gong. Her head bowed. The shaman’s soul had reached the Netherworld.

Immediately, her chin jerked up. She had accepted an ancestor to possess her mortal body.

Her sudden movement alarmed the observers, who all leaned forward from their floor seats. Everyone was quiet. The Song clan members watched the person tilt their head in curiosity at the towering altar before them.

“Hahahaha!” The elder jumped up and down on the bench, startling the two men standing by. “Whoo! Song Xia, is that you? You’re getting old!”

Next, her limbs went rigid. Shaman Xia slowly lifted her head once more. “Shut up, old lady. I see that you’re on your way to jump into one of the pools of Reincarnation.”

Some of the observing relatives arched an eyebrow. Who is that elder calling ‘old lady’? Isn’t she one, also? Ah…

In the ways of the shaman, when they are in a trance or possessed by a Netherworld soul, both the elder and the possessor coexist in the same mortal body. To ensure that the soul does not run away with the elder, the golden barrier was set up before the ceremony. When under the dome, the soul would have nowhere to go after time runs out, forcing them to return to the Netherworld. Until then, the shaman and the possessor will take turns in carrying the conversation. To those who are unfamiliar with the ritual, she would undoubtedly appear as a bit loony.

The ancestor laughed, “Yes! Now, this one is going to be reborn as a rich, sexy noblewoman! Out of my way now, old Xia—”

“Grandmother, the Red Omen has returned.” said the shaman, her voice low and severe.

On the bench, the elder stood still. She craned her neck at the altar again.

“Have you heard what the demons and ghosts have said in regard to the falling red flames?” asked Shaman Xia. “Just like in your time during the Ghost War, the demon king’s rain of fire tried to strike us again.”

“Ah… Has the Song clan finally perished?” Even with the cloth covering her face, the audience could see the ancestor’s creeping smile. “Hahahaha! I’m just kidding! Oh—oh, don’t hit me! Ow! This is still your mortal body, dummy!”

“Crazy grandmother, answer me!” The elder’s command was fierce. “The child behind me was born on the night of falling red flames… Is she a gift that has been bestowed upon the Song clan from the Heaven realm or a curse on us all?”

There was a long pause as the person bobbed their head, thinking to themselves. She began to whisper out inaudible words. The chilling smile broadened even more, growing quite rigid like a wax figure. There was not a draft in the large room; yet the vermilion cloth that covered the top half of her face waved back and forth, slightly.

Just when everyone thought the ancestor turned a deaf ear—the person laughed, “Ah, so the infant bears the mark of a crimson flower!” She nodded. “She is surely destined to be an Immortal!”

Many of the relatives’ faces brightened upon this discovery. So, the child is a miracle!

“Yes, this ancestor saw her jump into the pool of Reincarnation earlier!” The silly person then went to mumble, wondering why the heck did the child draw the worst lot to be born into the ill-fated Song clan of all people… “Her spiritual energy was powerful and bright gold like the sun. She will be an asset to the clan as an Immortal indeed.”

An Immortal from among their own? It was good news to the entire clan. Typically, Immortality is the final cultivation stage of magic and martial arts that is rarely achieved by mortals. The ancestor’s response was clear in which the baby girl will grow up to be a prodigy and will ascend into power as an Immortal! When one ascends, they often achieve it through the complete mastery of cultivation or by the direct invitation of the Heaven gods and goddesses. She could one day be promoted into Godhood!

Moreover, the Song clan’s reputation could be revived from the ground and erected back into the cultivation world! They would have a chance to be among the ten great sects just as their ancestors had enjoyed in the old glory days!

“But…” The person stopped. “My descendants, why do the rain of fire not frighten the girl, you ask?”

From outside, the people could hear cultivators shouting and spells being casted. The ground shook once more. The entire room fell silent. No one could explain why, but they felt a sinister plot plucking away.

Shaman Xia’s two sons remained still, their faces clouding over with unease.

The ancestor cocked her head at the lofty altar of gold joss paper, silver trinkets, and burning incense sticks with silver clouds of smoke.

Her playful tone soon drew to a small, quiet one. “Heed my words for what I am about to share is what I know of this little crimson flower, your gift from Heaven.”

“Please tell.” Raising her head, the child’s mother amplified her voice to be heard in the vast hall. She stared at the person’s back, their outer robe, and dancing bells. “This naïve woman would like to know.”

The old woman drew a long, trembling breath. From around the wooden mansion’s inner hall, everyone leaned more forward to listen, including the Chieftain himself. Brows furrowed together. Eyes grew larger.

Slowly, the ancestor began, “When the heavens rain swords…and the springs flood with fire—the earth shall bleed to ash. Lest the child of Red Omen…ascends time of great dire—keep a promise and cut the clash.”

Once more, the ground underneath the people grumbled and groaned. More shouting could be heard from outdoors as burning rocks collapsed into the village’s massive barrier.

“Who is this child?” asked the shaman, shaking her head. “What do you mean by these words?”

“The fire would not frighten her.” The person cut in, regaining momentary control of the elder’s mortal body. Her calm, steady tone was imbued with solemnity. “That girl is important to both the Netherworld and the Heaven realm, you know. When she jumped into the pool of Reincarnation—many eyes gathered around to watch her do so. Just heed my words. This one is going now—”

Rather abruptly, the soul dissolved from the old woman’s being, which caused the elder to nearly stumble over. It was time for the ancestor to reincarnate.

Immediately, the golden dome around the wooden bench shattered into a thousand splinters. Both sons rushed over to their old mother, slowly helping her to get off the bench.

“Mother!” Taking out a piece of cloth, the older son went to wipe the warm sweat from Shaman Xia’s face. “A-Are you alright?”

But she paid no attention to her children.

Instead, the elder averted her gaze to the stirring baby in the young mother’s arms. The red floral mark in between the child’s brows glowed brightly as if burning into the skin. Then came the loud wailing, which filled the entire great hall. Hurriedly, the father tried to calm his daughter with sweet words to no avail.

In the corner of the shaman’s peripheral, little crimson buds of flowers began to sprout from where the infant’s tears had fallen, arising out of the wood-paneled floor. She grew stiff. Her eyes widened. Could it be…?

Beyond the Chieftain’s home, raining red flames continued to hiss across the black Heaven outside. Crowds of blue-robed cultivators continued to press their hands against Cheng Xiu Village’s magical barricade, emitting spiritual energy from their fingertips. Masses and masses of inaudible incantations swirled around the area from the cultivators’ red lips, all hoping to hold off the storm just a little bit longer.