Dawn broke in muted grays, the sky overcast like a steel plate hung precariously above the Cloudmist Mountains. Lin Feng slid silently from the old cedar where he had slept, breath forming small clouds in the chill morning air. The valley behind him lay quiet—too quiet—and he kept his gaze fixed on the narrow trail winding upward into the mist. Every step carried the weight of his grandfather's final words: "Seek the Vault of Whispers."
He adjusted the scroll's leather strap across his chest and tested the weight of the jade saber at his hip. Though its glow had faded, its presence was undeniable—a whisper of power that pulsed faintly in time with his heartbeat. Far below, a rooster crowed in the village, a reminder of the simple life he had abandoned. He took one last look back before plunging into the mountain's embrace.
The trail was nothing more than a barren goat path carved into sheer cliffs. On either side, gnarled pines clung for life to rocky ledges, their roots twisting like dragon tails. Halfway up, Lin Feng paused at a narrow shelf overlooking the valley floor. Mist curled around wooden rooftops, and smoke from chimneys drifted upward like lazy snakes. He closed his eyes, inhaled deep, and forced calm into his chest, the saber at his side humming faintly in response.
The scroll's seal bore the emblem of the Hidden Lineage: a stylized pair of crossing blades enclosed within a circling serpent. Leaning against a boulder, he broke the red wax and unrolled the parchment. Inked characters danced in ancient script, accompanied by a crudely drawn map: a winding path through Whispering Gorge, then a crossing of the Silver Thread Stream, before the Vault's entrance hidden beneath the ruins of an old watchtower.
"Whispering Gorge…" He frowned. The name matched the ravine where the beast had attacked him. "They call the place sealed for a reason." Yet there was no turning back. Even if the Hidden Lineage's vault held nothing but dust, he needed answers—about the saber, his parents, and what lay ahead.
With resolve steeled, Lin Feng rolled the scroll and stowed it safely inside his tunic. He continued upward, pressing through brambles and loose stones. The narrow path soon split in two. To the left, a steep ascent zigzagged toward a series of stone steps hewn into the mountain. To the right, a gentler slope led into a cluster of ancient pines whose trunks were blackened by countless fires.
He recalled Grandfather Lin's warning: "Trust not every fork in the road—witches and bandits alike have laid snares here." Carefully, he chose the left. No sooner had he begun to climb the steps than the wind shifted, carrying the faint hiss of steel against steel. Lin Feng froze, his heart hammering.
A figure emerged at the top of the steps—a woman clad in flowing dark robes, her hair tied high with bone pins. A pair of short blades, curved like crescent moons, hung at her waist. Her eyes were cold, black as obsidian, and they flicked over Lin Feng with detached interest.
"Son of the Hidden Lineage," she said, voice low and clear. "You carry the saber's echo."
Lin Feng's hand tightened on the saber's hilt. "Who are you?"
A thin smile curved her lips. "I am Yin Kexin, Blade of the Night Witches. I seek the same path you do."
He frowned. "Then stand aside."
She laughed, a sound like wind through dry leaves. "I cannot. The Vault belongs to my coven as much as to you. We've guarded its secrets for generations."
Lin Feng swallowed. He had expected foes—seekers from the Five Great Sects—but not this. "I've no desire to fight you."
Yin Kexin's smile vanished. "Do you have a choice?"
Without warning, she drew both blades. In the same moment, Lin Feng drew the jade saber. The metal rang against the air like thunder. They squared off at the top of the steps, circling one another.
She struck first—a sudden crescent slash aimed for his right shoulder. Lin Feng barely raised the saber in time, the impact vibrating up his arm. He countered with a thrust, but she spun away, blades a blur.
For a moment, Lin Feng felt panic. His movements were clumsy, his style crude. Yet every instinct told him not to yield. In that instant, the saber at his side thrummed, and a green shimmer traced the blade's edge. He focused, willing it to guide his arm. When he pressed forward, the saber moved as though alive—sliding along her parry, grazing her robe, and sending her stumbling back.
Yin Kexin's eyes widened. She straightened, gripping her blades tight. "Your blood remembers more than you know."
She lunged again, but Lin Feng met her with steady strikes, each one surer than the last. Sparks flew as jade met steel. Within moments, she danced backward, conceding ground on the narrow ledge.
Then she vanished. One moment she stood before him—then nothing but a swirl of mist where she had been.
Lin Feng's pulse raced. He scanned the surrounding pines. "Show yourself!" he called. His voice echoed hauntingly through the pass.
A slow clap answered him. From between two trees, Yin Kexin emerged, smiling softly. Sheathed her blades, she bowed at the waist.
"You have courage, boy," she said. "And a rare bond with your weapon. The Vault's door opens only for those who bear its legacy."
She stepped aside. Behind her, the steps continued, leading up to a moss-covered archway carved into sheer stone—an entrance half-hidden by overgrown vines. Above it, four characters glinted in bronze: "Whispering Vault."
Lin Feng stared. "You were testing me?"
Yin Kexin nodded. "The path is treacherous, and only the worthy may enter. But heed this—once inside, every secret you uncover will be fought over. Allies will become enemies, and enemies may prove allies."
Lin Feng met her gaze. "Then we go together."
She studied him for a long moment, then inclined her head. "Very well. But know this: I serve no master but the Night Witches. At the Vault's heart, our goals may clash."
He nodded, tension easing slightly. Together, they stepped beneath the arch.
---
Inside, the air was cool and heavy. Torches flickered in iron sconces, casting long shadows on the stone walls. The corridor curved downward, its floor paved with time-smoothed slabs. Strange symbols—spirals, intersecting lines, and runes—were carved into every surface, their meanings lost to ages.
Lin Feng ran his fingers along one carving. The stone felt warm beneath his touch, as though some latent energy pulsed beneath it. The saber at his side vibrated softly, directing him forward. Above, a single beam of morning light pierced through a crack in the ceiling, illuminating swirling dust motes like tiny stars.
At the corridor's end, a wide chamber opened. Pillars ringed the space, each carved into the likeness of a hooded figure—guardians of the Vault. In the center, a shallow pool of clear water reflected their faces, as if showing their true selves. Beyond the pool, a massive door of polished jade stood sealed, its surface etched with the same serpentine blade emblem on Lin Feng's scroll.
Yin Kexin stepped forward, studying the door. "Place the saber's tip upon the emblem," she instructed. "And speak the Invocation of Roots."
Lin Feng approached, heart pounding. He knelt and touched the saber's tip to the serpentine blade. Immediately, the pool's water began to swirl, glowing with pale green light. The pillars' faces glowed in response. A distant rumble vibrated through the chamber.
"Invocation of Roots," Lin Feng whispered, recalling the few lines Grandfather had taught him long ago:
> "Driftwood finds no anchor,
By blood's embrace, the path is clear.
Awakened blade, remember your heir,
Unseal the roots, and banish fear."
He spoke slowly, enunciating each word. As the final line left his lips, a pulse of energy erupted from the saber's tip, traveling through the emblem, down the door's surface, and into the pool. The water exploded upward in a wave, then surged back down as the jade door slid open with a grinding hiss.
Lin Feng sprang to his feet. The chamber beyond was cloaked in darkness, but faint glimmers of jade light danced around its walls. Together, he and Yin Kexin crossed the threshold.
---
Inside the inner vault, ancient treasures lay preserved on stone pedestals: scrolls bound in black silk, a set of jade throwing knives, rings engraved with arcane runes, and—at the far end—a stone reliquary glowing with soft green light. Lin Feng approached it, the saber guiding him, and saw within the reliquary a small dish of luminescent dust: the Memory Ashes of the Hidden Lineage.
Yin Kexin's voice broke the silence. "With these ashes, you may summon echoes of past bearers—ghostly tutors who can teach you the saber's true art."
Lin Feng reached out, hesitating. He thought of Grandfather Lin, of Fragrant Valley, of the beast in the ravine. Could he bear the responsibility? Then he remembered the saber's whisper at dusk: "Heir of the Hidden Line awakens."
"Take it," she urged. "But know this—the ashes will reveal truths you cannot unlearn."
His hand closed around the reliquary. As it touched his palm, a chill ran up his arm. The chamber's torches flickered and then extinguished, plunging them into darkness. From all around, voices whispered in languages long dead—chants of battle, words of sacrifice, promises of vengeance.
Lin Feng's knees buckled, and he fell to one knee, clutching the reliquary. The saber at his side flared to life, filling the vault with emerald light. The whispering grew louder, until it formed a single, commanding voice:
> "Heir… stand…"
Lin Feng closed his eyes. "I stand," he said, voice firm.
A thunderous clap echoed, and the vault was bathed in brilliant light. When it faded, the reliquary lay open and empty, its ashes absorbed into Lin Feng's palm. At his side, Yin Kexin stared in awe.
He rose, unsteady but determined. "I'm ready," he whispered.
Beyond the vault's doorway, dawn's pale light was creeping in. Lin Feng stepped forward, the jade saber humming with renewed purpose. The path ahead would be perilous, filled with foes old and new. But for the first time, he felt the roots of his legacy take hold.
And as he emerged back into the mountain pass—Yin Kexin at his side—he knew that the true journey was only beginning.
---
End of Chapter 3.