Three Years passed.
The crater lake was no longer just a place that held deadly heat. It had become a witness to the struggle of a young man who locked himself in the silence of meditation, uniting with the elements of nature that formed the balance of the world. Fire, water, wind, earth, and metal—all of them were slowly absorbed into Yun Xia's body through a long and painful process.
His once slender body was now filled with hidden power. His veins resembled steel tempered in embers, and his aura exuded a pressing silence.
On the one thousand ninety-fifth day, when the new dawn swept over the Huashan valley, the usually turbulent surface of the crater lake suddenly stilled. Silence. No eruptions, no bursts of heat. Even the surrounding air began to feel calmer.
Suddenly, a red flash emerged from the bottom of the crater lake.
Cia Sun, who was meditating outside the cave, suddenly opened his eyes. "It's time," he muttered, before quickly making his way into the cave, walking down the corridor toward where Yun Xia was meditating.
When he reached the chamber, his eyes widened in astonishment.
Yun Xia was still sitting cross-legged on a rock, his body surrounded by a blazing red light. But what stunned Cia Sun was not just the heat radiating from his disciple's body—it was the sword, its blade glowing bright red, now slowly floating in front of Yun Xia's chest. The sword seemed alive—breathing and fused with the fire from within the crater.
Cia Sun tried to step closer, but the intense heat from Yun Xia's body halted his movement. He furrowed his brows. "His body isn't fully balanced yet. The energy has not completely merged," he murmured.
He then sat cross-legged nearby, waiting. It took two days before Yun Xia's body temperature subsided, and the red glow slowly faded, returning him to the appearance of ordinary flesh and skin—though his hair had now turned a fiery shade of red and yellow, like dying embers.
When Yun Xia finally opened his eyes, he was silent for a moment. His gaze fell upon Cia Sun, then to the red sword now embedded firmly in front of the meditation stone.
"Master..."
"Stand up," Cia Sun said softly. "Your training is complete. Let's return to the cottage."
Yun Xia stood. His legs felt light, but his body held a strength he had never experienced before. He grasped the sword. Its blade was no longer hot—it now felt as if it was part of his hand.
---
Several days after returning to the small cottage on the slopes of Mount Huashan, Yun Xia stayed with Cia Sun. But this time, it was not to practice martial arts or meditation—it was to listen to life's wisdom.
"Great skill without direction will only become a burden that leads you astray," said Cia Sun one night as he brewed tea. "You are no longer a child. You are now the guardian of a great legacy. But more than that, you must be a man who knows the path of truth."
Yun Xia looked at his master with deep respect. He spoke little, but every word from Cia Sun was etched deeply in his heart.
For three days, Yun Xia learned about the responsibility of a warrior. That revenge was not the ultimate path. That power was a tool, not a goal.
On the fourth day, Cia Sun gazed at the young man with a different look in his eyes. "My duty is complete. Now it is time for you to descend the mountain. See the world, discover who you are, and uphold the path you have chosen."
Yun Xia nodded. "I will never forget your teachings, Master."
Cia Sun smiled. "Take that sword with you. It is now a part of you. That sword will speak if you stray from the righteous path."
---
Elsewhere, far to the south, away from the serenity of Mount Huashan...
Bao An was once again forced to flee. The hut where he had been hiding for the past few months by the Yong'an River was burned to the ground after a Ming Dynasty patrol unexpectedly swept through the area.
He barely had time to save a small bag containing ancient manuscripts and a bit of food. With his face covered by a tattered cloth, he crept between bushes and tree roots, holding his breath whenever he heard the distant footsteps of soldiers.
"I've stayed in one place for too long," he murmured softly. "They're getting closer."
The blood of a palace guard still ran in his veins. Though his hair had turned white and his body had grown frail, his instincts remained sharp. Bao An knew he had to find a safer place—higher, more difficult to reach.
He looked north—toward the mountain range whose mist seemed to conceal the world's secrets. "Perhaps it's time I return to the western mountains. There are still old allies there I can trust."
With unsteady steps, Bao An once again disappeared into the darkness of night, his only hope was to survive—waiting for the day when the truth would finally rise to the surface.
---
The clear morning sky welcomed Yun Xia's steps as he descended the rocky slopes, leaving behind the small cottage that had been his home and training ground for years. The gentle breeze caressed his face, as if bidding him farewell.
From the doorway, Cia Sun stood tall, watching his disciple walk away. His old eyes reflected hope quietly laced with worry.
"He has walked a long road," Cia Sun muttered as he sipped tea alone. "But the world down there is not like the serenity of the mountains. The world is a crooked mirror, and even the sharpest sword can rust if one does not know where to swing it."
He sat at a small wooden table, gazing at the slow-rising steam from his tea. Ancient scrolls, the teachings of ancestral warriors passed down through generations, hung on the cottage walls.
"Yun Xia…" he whispered. "You carry not only the legacy of skill but also the hope that the world will not fully fall into darkness."
Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the morning breeze. In his heart, Cia Sun knew: the world was moving toward great upheaval. And the disciple he had just released would soon face his first storm.
---
The journey down Mount Huashan took three days. Yun Xia was in no hurry. He savored the rocky paths, the valleys beginning to bloom with spring flowers, and the cheerful chirping of birds—things he had only seen from afar during his years of meditation.
But on the afternoon of the third day, his steps halted when he saw plumes of black smoke rising beyond the trees.
He quickened his pace, climbing a small hill to get a clearer view. In the distance, part of a village was ablaze. Faint screams drifted on the wind. Yun Xia narrowed his eyes. He saw ragged men dragging villagers, burning granaries, and looting houses.
"Bandits…" he murmured. But there was something more.
As he descended the hill, he felt a strange aura—cold and sharp, like a killer's presence emanating from the smoke. And sure enough, among the bandits stood a figure dressed in pitch black, a skull emblem on his belt. His eyes glowed red. A member of the dark sect.
Without hesitation, Yun Xia made his way down the narrow path toward the village. He walked through the flames and corpses until someone blocked his way—a tall bandit wielding a large axe.
"Hey! Kid! You wanna die here?!"