The next morning, the Nine Rivers Sect stirred with quiet purpose. Bells chimed softly in the mountain air, marking the hour for daily cultivation. Disciples flowed like rivers through courtyards and pavilions, clad in simple robes that bore the flowing wave emblem of the sect.
Lian Yu stood atop one of the outer training platforms, overlooking the distant horizon. Though the world bustled below, he felt apart from it—as if some invisible boundary still clung to him, the lingering trace of a forgotten self not yet reconciled with this reality.
His fingers brushed against the faintly glowing shard still hovering at his chest. The illusory map had vanished at dawn, leaving behind only its impression—three glowing marks burned into his memory.
The closest of the three had pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat. He sensed that it lay not far from the Nine Rivers territory. But there was something strange about its rhythm… like it was being suppressed.
"You're up early."
Lian Yu turned. Elder Xuan Qian approached, robes trailing the wind, his face thoughtful but calm.
"I didn't sleep," Lian Yu said.
"Few cultivators do when their soul stirs," Xuan Qian replied. "Come. Walk with me."
They descended into the gardens, where winding paths cut through bamboo groves and koi ponds. The air carried the scent of dew and blossoming jade orchids.
"There is something I must show you," the elder said.
They passed beneath an arched stone gate into a more secluded part of the sect. Unlike the polished courtyards, this area was overgrown and quiet, the stones cracked and worn with age.
"This was the original heart of the sect," Xuan Qian explained. "Before the war. Before the Sundering."
"Sundering?" Lian Yu asked.
The elder stopped beside a ruined pavilion. "A thousand years ago, the sky shattered. The six great realms of cultivation were sealed from what lay beyond. Many believed it to be Heaven's punishment… but some of us suspect it was something else."
He crouched beside an ancient plaque buried in moss and swept his hand across it. Symbols flared to life—faint, jagged, broken.
Lian Yu leaned closer. "These symbols… they match the ones on the relic map."
"Exactly." Xuan Qian stood. "There were once realms beyond Celestial Bridge. Entire paths of cultivation lost. Sealed not just from us—but from memory itself."
"Yet I remember pieces," Lian Yu murmured.
The elder studied him carefully. "That's why I believe you were not simply erased—you were exiled from something higher."
Lian Yu's gaze darkened. "Then these relics…"
"Keys," Xuan Qian said. "Not just to power—but to what lies beyond the seal."
He turned to face the overgrown trees. "But not all within the sect would see this as a gift. Some fear what breaking the seal may bring. If they discover what you carry—what you are…"
"They'd try to stop me," Lian Yu finished.
"Worse," Xuan Qian said grimly. "They'd alert the Exalted Halls."
Lian Yu's brow furrowed. "What are the Exalted Halls?"
The elder hesitated. "Those who claim to serve the Heavens. Overseers of the six great realms. But they are not what they seem. Even we don't speak of them openly. Not here."
Lian Yu's eyes narrowed. "So… who in the sect can I trust?"
Xuan Qian offered a rare, faint smile. "Jin Mu. Myself. A few others. That will have to be enough—for now."
They stood in silence, the wind rustling the ruined banners overhead.
"There's one more thing," Xuan Qian added. "The relic's nearest marker? It aligns with a forbidden zone beneath our jurisdiction—deep within the Mistshroud Hollow."
"I'll go," Lian Yu said instantly.
"You cannot go openly," the elder warned. "The Hollow is off-limits, and guarded. You'll need a reason… or a distraction."
Lian Yu nodded slowly. "Then I'll find one."
That afternoon, Lian Yu joined the outer sect disciples for training. The drills were mundane—focusing on Qi circulation, stance refinement, spiritual sense sharpening. But even here, his presence stirred unease.
Some disciples whispered as he passed, while others bowed low in nervous respect.
One, however, did neither.
A girl moved gracefully between opponents, her blade light as a feather yet striking like thunder. Her dark hair was tied in a simple braid, her eyes calm, measured. She didn't look at him once—until their gazes met after she disarmed two opponents in a blink.
"You fight differently," Lian Yu said as she approached.
She wiped her blade with a cloth. "And you don't fight at all."
"I'm watching," he replied, not insulted.
"Watching won't help when you're in the Hollow."
He blinked. "You know?"
"I overheard Elder Xuan," she said, matter-of-factly. "Don't worry—I'm not going to report you."
"Then what are you going to do?"
She smiled faintly. "Help. I know a hidden path into the Hollow. You'll need someone to guide you past the warding fog."
Lian Yu studied her closely. "Why help me?"
Her expression turned serious. "Because I saw it too. The rift in the sky. I felt it. And I think… I've seen you before."
His breath caught.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She offered a slight bow. "Yu Mei. Inner disciple. And, apparently, your guide."
He watched her walk away, her aura calm—but layered with something more.
That night, as the sky darkened and the lanterns of the sect flickered like stars, Lian Yu sat alone in his quarters. The relic shard hovered before him again, flickering softly.
He traced a finger through the air—and the map shimmered once more. The closest mark pulsed brighter now. The Hollow.
A path forward. A test.
And beyond it—perhaps another piece of the person he used to be.