The first lesson of survival in the Scarlet Immortal Sect was unspoken:
"Never show weakness."
Shen Yi felt that truth the moment he stepped into the Training Pavilion.
The vast chamber buzzed with cultivators — some refining techniques, others meditating in still pools of elemental energy. Crimson banners lined the walls, each marked with the sect's creed: Honor. Flame. Silence. The floor was carved with spiritual runes, designed to enhance breakthroughs and amplify internal cultivation.
But every pair of eyes turned to him the moment he crossed the threshold.
Some widened in surprise.
Others narrowed in disdain.
And a few — the oldest disciples — stared with something closer to fear.
Whispers followed him like a shadow.
"That's him…"
"…Five years ago, they said he slaughtered—"
"…Demon Heart Physique…"
"…Should've stayed dead…"
Shen Yi didn't flinch. He kept walking, head high, breath even.
But the weight of their eyes settled deep in his spine.
He could feel it — the edge of violence humming under every word.
---
Su Yao stood near the back of the pavilion, arms folded, observing silently.
She'd arrived before him, watched the stares start early.
When she saw him walk in — steady, proud, silent — a knot in her chest eased slightly.
He was holding together.
For now.
---
Yan Xue was not present.
She had chosen not to attend.
Or more accurately, she had chosen not to watch him be tested — not by the sect, but by the disciples who once trained beside him… and who now feared what he might become.
She had her reasons.
And she didn't need to be close to feel it happening.
That quiet shift in spiritual pressure.
The echo.
---
Instructor Fang, a stoic man in grey armor robes, stood before the gathered disciples with a blank expression. His eyes barely flicked toward Shen Yi before he spoke.
"Today's trial is one of pairing. You will demonstrate compatibility of cultivation flow — how well you adjust your techniques against a living opponent."
His tone held no judgment. No emotion. But his eyes were sharp.
"Volunteers will be chosen. You will not fight to harm. But you will not hold back."
He turned. "Shen Yi. You will be first."
No hesitation.
Of course.
Shen Yi nodded once and stepped forward.
"Your opponent," Fang said, "will be Elder Wu's apprentice. Li Cheng."
From the crowd, a tall, lean young man stepped out. His hair was silver-dyed, tied in a warrior's tail, and a faint smile touched his lips.
"Honor to meet you," he said. "Though I must admit… I was hoping it would be you."
His tone was polite.
But his eyes gleamed with challenge.
---
They stood across from each other, ten paces apart.
Instructor Fang raised his hand. "Begin."
Li Cheng moved first.
He didn't start with a probe. He struck fast — three steps forward, palm glowing with wind qi, aiming for Shen Yi's ribs.
Shen Yi reacted on instinct.
He caught the strike.
Redirected.
Twisted.
And in a breath, Li Cheng staggered back, his arm numb.
The pavilion stilled.
Whispers began again.
Shen Yi lowered his hand slowly, unsure where the technique had come from.
That flow… that instinct…
It was too perfect.
Not practiced. Inherited.
---
Li Cheng recovered quickly and smiled.
"Impressive. But I don't give up easy."
His second assault was sharper — a flurry of kicks wrapped in gale-force movement, trying to throw Shen Yi off balance.
Shen Yi evaded.
But something surged within him as he did — a pulse from his dantian, hot and cold at once.
He blinked.
For a moment, the room changed.
The pillars cracked.
Blood pooled at his feet.
Screams echoed.
He stood over a dozen corpses… their robes crimson with fire.
He blinked again—
Gone.
Just the training hall.
Li Cheng's palm nearly struck him across the face.
He dodged at the last second, rolled across the mat, and landed in a crouch.
The room gasped.
"Enough!" Instructor Fang barked.
Both combatants froze.
Fang stepped forward, frowning.
But before he could speak, a long, clear tone rang through the air.
A summoning bell.
A summons from the Inner Court Hall.
---
In a room filled with whispers, Instructor Fang only said, "Shen Yi. You're being called."
Shen Yi didn't ask by who.
He didn't need to.
He already felt the pull in his bones.
---
The path to the Inner Court was quiet.
Su Yao walked beside him, silent for a long stretch. Then:
"That surge… what was it?"
Shen Yi shook his head. "I don't know. But when I moved—when I fought—it felt like someone else was using my limbs."
"You were remembering."
"I don't think it was memory."
He paused.
"I think it was reflex. From a version of me that never left."
Su Yao didn't answer at first.
Then she said softly, "And what if that version wakes up?"
He looked straight ahead. "Then I hope Yan Xue is strong enough to kill me."
---
Inside the Inner Court, Elder Han waited.
He wasn't alone.
A scroll was unrolled before him — not ordinary paper, but a blood-sealed record.
A list of ancient names, symbols, and a technique crest drawn in black flame ink.
Shen Yi recognized none of it.
But his body did.
His qi twitched the moment he stepped near.
Elder Han spoke.
"This scroll was found in the ruins of the Northern Ice Wastes — among a site once linked to the Blood Echo Sect, long believed extinct."
Shen Yi frowned. "I don't know them."
"You wouldn't," Han said. "They vanished a century ago. But they once studied a path very close to yours."
He tapped the scroll. "This mark here. Look closely."
Shen Yi leaned in.
And his vision blurred.
A face.
Not a sigil.
A woman.
Eyes like silver frost. A red slash across her lips.
Not Yan Xue. But familiar.
Terribly familiar.
His body shook.
"What… is this?" he asked, voice hoarse.
Elder Han's expression was unreadable.
"It's a warning."
----
The image burned into Shen Yi's mind.
The woman with silver eyes and blood-red lips—he had never seen her before. And yet, something beneath his skin recoiled at the sight.
Elder Han rolled up the scroll with practiced hands, the black flame ink vanishing as the parchment sealed. "There are remnants of your power scattered across the realm. Threads of a technique long thought erased. That woman was one of its former wielders—centuries ago."
"What happened to her?" Shen Yi asked.
Elder Han's gaze was grim. "She reached the end. And the end consumed her."
A cold silence followed.
Then Han continued, "You carry something older than this sect. Older than either dynasty. The Immortal Demon Skill was never a skill—it was a curse. And if left unchecked, it will turn you into something worse than that woman."
Shen Yi's voice was low. "Is that why you called me here? To scare me?"
Han shook his head. "To warn you. The Sect Lord may have given you a chance—but if you show signs of becoming what she became, there will be no second warnings. No leniency. Not from the elders. Not from me."
Shen Yi didn't respond. He couldn't. Because beneath the fear… a part of him ached.
The image of that woman—it didn't just disturb him.
It called to him.
And he didn't know why.
---
Back in the outer sect dormitory, Yan Xue stood on the rooftop of the east wing, arms folded, wind stirring her robes.
She hadn't gone to the training pavilion. She hadn't needed to.
The moment Shen Yi's qi had surged earlier, she felt it—like a needle in her bloodstream.
That raw, unnatural power.
The Immortal Demon Skill was stirring again.
Her grip on the balcony railing tightened.
He hadn't lost control.
Not fully.
But the fact that it could surface so easily—even after losing his memories—meant something dark:
It was still inside him.
Waiting.
---
Su Yao found her there some time later.
"You didn't want to watch?" she asked gently.
Yan Xue didn't look away from the horizon. "If I'd seen that power come out of him again, I don't know if I would've stepped in… or struck first."
Su Yao leaned against the wall beside her. "That's why I went. To be the one who chooses not to strike."
"I envy you," Yan Xue murmured.
Su Yao's voice was quiet. "Do you still think he's the same?"
"I think the part of him that killed my family is still alive. I just don't know how much of it controls him."
Su Yao studied her carefully. "What if it doesn't?"
Yan Xue didn't answer.
---
Later that night, Shen Yi sat alone in one of the sect's silent meditation gardens.
The moon cast pale silver through the bamboo leaves overhead. Water trickled through carved stone basins. And the air was filled with the scent of spirit moss and faint lotus qi.
But peace wouldn't come.
He closed his eyes, trying to center his breathing.
Trying to calm the surge inside him.
Why did I see her?
That face. The woman. The blood mark.
Something about her hurt. Not just in memory—he had none—but in soul.
Suddenly, a voice behind him.
"You're not meditating."
He turned slightly. Yan Xue stood there, arms crossed.
"You're not supposed to be here," he said.
"I go where I please."
She walked over and stood in the moonlight. Her face was composed, but her aura was sharper tonight. Like something had pushed her further into herself.
He watched her.
She stared at him.
And then, quietly:
"Do you remember anything yet?"
He shook his head. "Only feelings. No memories."
She didn't speak for a long time.
Then she asked, "If you knew… that remembering would make you hate yourself… would you still want to remember?"
He considered it.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you remember. And you're still here."
She didn't flinch. But something in her posture changed — the faintest shift of her shoulders. A hesitation.
Then she said, "That doesn't mean I've forgiven you."
"I don't expect you to."
She stepped closer. "Then what do you want from me?"
He looked up at her, eyes steady.
"I want the truth. Even if it kills me."
She stared at him.
Then she leaned down — just enough to bring their faces inches apart.
"If it comes to that," she whispered, "I'll be the one who delivers the final blow."
And then she turned and walked away, her footsteps soundless over the stone.
---
Elsewhere in the inner chambers, Elder Han stood before the Sect Lord.
"You showed him the scroll," the Sect Lord said without turning.
"Yes."
"And?"
Han folded his hands. "He reacted. Not consciously. But something inside him recognized her."
The Sect Lord's gaze sharpened. "Then the cycle has truly begun."
Han hesitated. "Shall I inform the others?"
"No. Not yet." The Sect Lord's tone was unreadable. "There is still time to steer the tide. If we act too soon, we may destroy what little humanity remains in him."
"And if we wait too long?"
The Sect Lord turned then, his eyes like ink stirred in a storm.
"Then even Yan Xue won't be enough to stop him."
---
In her personal quarters, Yan Xue stood before a sealed mirror, one she hadn't looked into in five years.
She unlatched the protective talisman and let the glass show its reflection.
Not of her.
Of the past.
Of her parents' smiling faces. Of her younger sister's laugh. Of a red-lit night turned into slaughter.
Her hands trembled, just for a moment.
And then she whispered:
"Even if you forget, Shen Yi…
I never will.
And I'll make sure you never do, either."
She touched the glass.
And the image disappeared into mist.
---
End of Chapter 13