Dawn came slowly over a world that hadn't yet decided to wake. Dew clung to the tips of leaves, catching the faint light of a gray sky. Jian Wu stood at the edge of a valley where morning mist hung thick and low, a curtain between two worlds that had not yet made peace.
The air was heavy here, carrying more than just moisture. Every breath felt like drawing in fragments of unfinished memories.
He closed his eyes.
Somewhere in that silence, a voice rose, not from outside, but from within. Calm, yet suffocating.
"You were never meant to remember… but the world can no longer forget."
Jian Wu opened his eyes again.
The sky above shifted, pale blue fading into silver, then dull gray, as if the world itself was growing weary of color.
And then he heard footsteps.
"So, we finally arrive here," said an old man emerging from the fog. His robe was long and dark, torn at the hem. His face was lined with years, yet his eyes clear as rain, carried something that never aged.
"You again…" Jian Wu muttered. "The Guardian?"
The man smiled faintly. "Perhaps. Though this world no longer allows anything to stay the same for too long."
He stepped closer, his voice barely rising above the whisper of the wind.
"You see, Jian Wu… this world has kept too many memories buried for too long. Now, the cracks are beginning to show."
"Cracks?" Jian Wu asked quietly.
"Between what's real… and what once was," the man replied. "And standing between them… is you."
Jian Wu stared at his hands, black and white energy twisting faintly under his skin, refusing to merge. "I never wanted to be the reason for the split."
"No one does," the man said gently. "But the world doesn't need your desire. It needs balance."
Far across the valley, Mei Xue woke with a sharp breath. Her skin was cold, her pulse fast. The morning mist brushed her face, carrying the faint sound of thunder far to the north.
She stood, brushing off her robe. Something in the air felt different, the rhythm of the world itself.
She closed her eyes, reaching inward for the spiritual thread that once tied her to Jian Wu.
Nothing.
Only silence.
A bridge with one side missing.
"Where did you go this time…" she whispered.
A rustle broke the quiet. A young disciple ran toward her, panting.
"Elder Mei! The western barrier is shaking again! The formation's unstable!"
Mei Xue's tone stayed calm. "Hold the formation. If something comes through the mist, don't fight it run east."
"But, Elder.."
"Go," she said firmly.
Her eyes turned toward the fog where Jian Wu had vanished.
Meanwhile, Jian Wu stood beside a river.
The water was clear, yet it reflected nothing. He crouched, watching the ripples scatter under his gaze.
"Even water refuses to remember," he murmured.
"No," said a voice behind him, deep and quiet. "Water never forgets."
He turned sharply.
The same old man stood there, half his face shadowed beneath the hood. His eyes gleamed faintly, like those who have seen too much for too long.
"Who are you?" Jian Wu demanded.
"A guardian," the man said, smiling softly. "Though the world doesn't ask for guardians anymore."
"Where am I?"
"Between," he replied.
"The place where forgotten things wait. Where the world hides what it cannot destroy."
Jian Wu studied him. "And what am I?"
The man's smile deepened. "Something that should not exist… and yet, the world keeps remembering you."
Jian Wu said nothing. The mist stirred gently around them.
Then, almost too quietly, he asked, "Is Bai Lian here?"
The guardian's gaze softened. "Bai Lian walked too far toward the light. But every light leaves a shadow, doesn't it?"
Jian Wu looked down at the water. For a heartbeat, Bai Lian's reflection appeared, serene, fading and was replaced by another image. His own. But older, colder, divine.
"I'm not human," that reflection said.
"I know," Jian Wu whispered.
The guardian chuckled. "Then you also know the world won't rest 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 began to fade back into the mist.
"Go east. That's where the world starts to rewrite itself. But be warned… the closer you get to truth, the less of this world will remain."
Dusk painted the sky in bruised red.
By the same river, Mei Xue arrived too late. Jian Wu was gone.
She knelt beside the damp ground, tracing the faint imprint of his footsteps.
No shadows. No warmth.
"He was here," she murmured.
A black bird flew overhead, letting out a single, harsh cry before disappearing into the dying light.
Mei Xue looked eastward, her eyes burning with quiet resolve.
"Where are you, Jian Wu?"
The river rippled once more.
And for a single instant, her reflection changed. Jian Wu stood on the other side of the water, his form blurred, his eyes pale white.
"Mei Xue…" his voice was distant, trembling. "Don't come here. The world isn't ready to remember."
The river roared, then fell silent again. Only the wind answered, carrying his name away.
Mei Xue rose slowly, her expression calm yet fierce.
"If the world isn't ready," she whispered, "then I'll make it ready."
She stepped into the mist, leaving behind the silver river glowing faintly beneath the fading sun.
Night fell.
And high above, beyond mortal sight, two moons, one white, one black drifted closer, the
ir light touching at the edge of the sky.
As if the heavens themselves were preparing…
to remember what they once chose to forget.