The sky looked the same, yet the air was different.
Jian Wu realized it the moment he opened his eyes as if the world he knew had swallowed him whole and spat him out in a slightly altered form.
The soil beneath his feet was damp, but it carried no scent of earth. It was as though he stood upon the world's memory, not the ground itself. Around him, the forest was familiar, tall trees, thin mist, the faint hum of insects, yet something unseen lingered. Every leaf, every breath of wind, felt like it was watching him.
He exhaled softly.
"Did I really… come back?"
No answer came.
Only the sigh of wind passing by, like a quiet breath from something hiding within the fog.
He began to walk. Each step left a faint imprint that vanished the moment he looked back. He lifted his hand, sensing the energy within his body the same black and white aura, but deeper now, heavier.
And beneath it… something else.
A whisper that hadn't yet learned how to speak.
"I'm still here…"
He froze. The voice wasn't from outside.
It came from within.
Far to the east, Mei Xue gasped awake.
She sat upright on a mossy stone, her hair tangled, her chest rising fast. Morning light pierced through the mist, catching her eyes in a pale amber glow.
"Jian Wu…" she whispered.
Something had shifted.
The world's rhythm, the very current of its energy felt wrong, like a river that had lost its direction. She closed her eyes, trying to reach for the faint spiritual thread that once guided her toward Jian Wu.
Nothing.
Silence.
A bridge with one side missing.
"Where did you go this time…" she murmured.
A rustle came from behind. A young disciple ran toward her, breathless.
"Elder Mei! The western barrier is shaking again! The formation's unstable!"
Mei Xue glanced at him calmly.
"Hold the formation. If something comes through the mist, don't fight it. Run east."
"But, Elder.."
"Just go."
Her tone left no room for questions.
She turned toward the fog, the same direction where Jian Wu had disappeared.
Elsewhere, Jian Wu stood by a river.
Its water was clear, but it reflected nothing. He knelt by the edge, watching his own faint outline dissolve in the ripples.
"Even water refuses to remember," he muttered.
"No," said a voice behind him. "Water never forgets."
He turned sharply.
An old man stood there, tall and draped in a long black robe. Half of his face was covered, but his eyes gleamed with a strange knowing light the kind that comes from seeing too much, for too long.
"Who are you?" Jian Wu asked.
"A guardian," the man replied with a faint smile. "Though the world no longer needs me to guard anything."
"Where am I?"
"Between," the man said simply.
"The place where forgotten memories rest. Where the world hides what it can't destroy."
Jian Wu studied him. "And what am I?"
The old man's smile deepened. "You're something that shouldn't exist. Yet the world keeps remembering you."
Jian Wu fell silent.
Then, almost in a whisper, he asked, "Is Bai Lian here?"
The guardian's gaze softened.
"Bai Lian… She walked too far toward the light. But every light leaves a shadow, doesn't it?"
Jian Wu looked back at the river.
Its surface rippled, and for a heartbeat, Bai Lian's face appeared, serene, fading before being replaced by another his own, yet not him.
A version of himself radiant, cold, divine.
"I'm not human," the reflection said.
Jian Wu didn't flinch. "I know."
The guardian chuckled softly. "Then you also know the world won't stop until you choose. Be human… or become a memory."
"I'll stay who I am."
"And that," said the guardian, "is why the world rejects you."
He stepped backward, fading into mist. "Go east. That's where the world begins to rewrite itself. But be careful… the closer you get to truth, the less of the world remains."
Dusk painted the sky in bruised red.
Mei Xue reached the same river, but Jian Wu was gone. She knelt, touching the damp ground, tracing the faint outline of footprints, footprints without shadows.
"He was here," she whispered.
A black bird flew overhead, cawing once before disappearing into the horizon.
Mei Xue lifted her gaze, her expression hardening. "Where are you, Jian Wu?"
The river rippled.
For an instant, her reflection changed, Jian Wu stood on the other side, his form blurred, his eyes gleaming pale white.
"Mei Xue…" his voice was faint. "Don't come here. The world isn't ready to remember."
The water roared, then stilled again. Only the wind remained, whispering her name as it vanished into the fog.
Mei Xue rose slowly, facing east.
"If the world isn't ready," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "then I'll make it ready."
She stepped into the mist, leaving behind the silver river glinting faintly beneath the dying sun.
Night fell.
And high above, beyond the reach of mortal eyes, two moons, one white, one
black, began to drift closer to each other.
As if the world itself was preparing… to remember what it had once chosen to forget.