The evening sky shimmered in shades of silver, heavy and restless, as if holding back something vast. Jian Wu walked along a narrow, stone path descending into the lower valley. Mei Xue followed close behind, her eyes fixed on his back, on the man who now felt more distant with every step, even though he was only a few paces away.
"Ever since the world began to remember you," she said softly, "you've grown quieter. More than before."
Jian Wu stopped, his gaze fixed ahead. "Because when the world remembers," he murmured, "it always asks for something in return."
Mei Xue's voice was cautious. "And what does it want from you this time?"
He exhaled, the sound almost a sigh. "Maybe… the same thing I once fought to keep myself."
They walked on, the mist thinning into a field of pale flowers. The air felt different here, each gust of wind carried faint murmurs, voices that weren't quite human. Some petals stirred even when the breeze stopped, as if something beneath the earth was breathing.
"This place feels wrong," Mei Xue whispered.
Jian Wu nodded slightly. "It's called the Echo Plains. Every voice ever spoken in this world… eventually comes back here."
The wind fell silent. Even the flowers froze mid-motion.
Then, from somewhere beyond the haze, a soft laugh echoed, light, childlike.
Mei Xue grasped Jian Wu's sleeve. "You heard that?"
"I did," he said calmly. "But it's not a child."
Shadows emerged between the blossoms, faint silhouettes moving with hesitant grace. They drifted closer, circling the two of them like fragments of half-formed memories. One stopped in front of Jian Wu. Its face was blurred, but its eyes, pale silver, shone with the same light that sometimes appeared in his own.
Mei Xue's voice trembled. "Who are they?"
Jian Wu's eyes softened. "Echoes of what once was. Maybe… those who once believed in me."
The figure reached out, its transparent fingers almost touching Jian Wu's face. But before it could, it dissolved into faint motes of light, vanishing into the breeze.
Mei Xue lowered her gaze. "Did they die because of you?"
He looked down. "Or maybe they died protecting me."
Silence. Heavy, but not cruel.
Above them, the sky rumbled faintly, a deep vibration that felt like footsteps walking across the clouds. Then light broke through, a soft beam forming a circular mark on the ground among the flowers.
"Mei Xue," Jian Wu whispered, "this isn't a normal place. It's… a calling."
"Calling from who?"
He shook his head slowly. "Not who. What."
The earth trembled. The white blossoms began to wither and fall, one by one. From within the glowing circle, a figure rose, a woman with long gray hair, dressed in faded robes that seemed to carry the dust of centuries. Her beauty was quiet, sorrowful, like someone who had lived too long in the company of ghosts.
"So," she said softly, her voice echoing through the field, "you've finally come."
Jian Wu's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"My name is Ling Shu," she said. "A disciple of the Northern Sect… and the last guardian of the gate between memory and the world."
"Why were you waiting for me?" he asked.
"Because," she said quietly, "you're the one who opened it."
The air grew cold. Behind Ling Shu, a massive vortex of black and white light began to spin slowly, a storm between heaven and earth.
Mei Xue's face went pale. "That vortex… it's the same one that destroyed the Three Great Sects!"
Jian Wu stepped forward, his voice low but steady. "What do you mean I opened it? I don't remember any of this."
Ling Shu looked at him with eyes full of compassion, and grief. "You don't remember, but the world does."
As her words faded, the vortex expanded, pulling mist and light toward it like a living thing. Mei Xue tried to move closer, but Jian Wu held out his arm. "Stay back."
"But.."
"This is mine to face," he said quietly, staring into the storm. "Whatever I've done… I'll face it now."
The sky changed color, crimson first, then violet, then darkness.
And from that darkness came voices, cries of battle, whispers of prayers, fragments of laughter. Then one voice cut through it all, gentle and familiar.
"Jian Wu…"
He closed his eyes.
And in that silence, an image formed, a hand reaching toward him, trembling but unyielding.
"If the world forgets you, I will become the world itself."
The voice, Bai Lian's wrapped around him like light.
He opened his eyes, gasping. The vortex had vanished, and Ling Shu was gone. Only the scent of burnt flowers remained, soft and fleeting.
Mei Xue stood beside him, worry etched across her face. "Are you all right?"
He stared at his own hand, where a faint mark now glowed a spiral of silver light, pulsing gen
tly.
"I'm not sure," he said quietly. "But I think… the world truly has begun to remember."