Lian stood barefoot in the training field, dew-damp grass brushing her ankles. Morning sunlight painted Mount Yunyuan in soft gold, but inside her, shadows still lingered.
Shengzhi had given her a sword.
Not a blade forged of steel, but one crafted of pure spirit energy—light and flame that danced at her will. It felt… alive. Like it recognized her.
"Focus your breath," Shengzhi said, his voice calm. "Let the sword follow your heart."
She closed her eyes.
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Slow. Then faster. The sword glowed brighter in her grip, responding to something deep in her.
She slashed the air—once, then again—and a streak of golden fire followed her motion.
Shengzhi watched in silence.
It had taken other disciples years to harness a spiritual blade. Lian had done it in days.
---
After training, Shengzhi led her through the upper paths of the sect. The air was thin and cold, but the world below looked like a painting: clouds drifting between jade towers, cranes gliding in silence.
They stopped at a narrow bridge.
"This place," he said, resting a hand on the carved railing, "was where I once stood with someone… long ago."
Lian tilted her head. "Your old friend?"
He hesitated. "She was more than that."
A strange flutter stirred in Lian's chest. "What happened to her?"
Shengzhi's jaw clenched. "She was betrayed. Framed. Executed… by someone close to me."
Lian didn't speak. She didn't know what to say.
But as the wind tugged at her sleeves, she felt the same whisper again, deep in her thoughts:
> "Yue Lian…"
She pressed a hand to her temple.
Shengzhi turned sharply. "Are you alright?"
"I… I'm fine. Just a little dizzy."
He stepped closer, gaze darkening with worry—but before he could speak again, a voice interrupted.
"Well, isn't this cozy."
Li Fang stood at the other end of the bridge, arms folded, eyes unreadable.
Lian instinctively stepped back.
"Didn't Master Yu say she shouldn't be climbing this high yet?" Li Fang said, walking toward them.
Shengzhi's voice was flat. "She's under my guidance."
Li Fang's gaze flicked between them. "And what happens when the rest of the sect finds out she's not just some lost mortal girl?"
"I'll handle it," Shengzhi replied.
Li Fang's jaw tightened. But then, his eyes softened—just slightly—as he looked at Lian. "Be careful who you trust. This mountain… it swallows people whole."
And with that, he turned and walked away.
---
That night, alone in her room beneath the peach tree, Lian sat by a glowing lantern. She traced the soft scar across her palm—the one from her childhood that had never healed right.
She didn't know why, but she whispered into the air:
> "If I really was someone else… someone important… why does it feel so lonely?"
Outside, a shadow moved through the trees.
Wuqian crouched on a rooftop, eyes gleaming like a predator. A dark talisman pulsed in his hand.
"She's remembering," he murmured. "We don't have much time."
A deeper voice echoed from the jade talisman he held.
> "Let her awaken… but not too fast. Her power must ripen before we claim it."
Wuqian grinned, teeth sharp as knives.
> "As you command… Master."
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To be continued