"Shen Rui. Where is Yun Zhao?"
The Emperor's voice was calm — almost gentle — yet it rolled through the jade hall like distant thunder.
Before him knelt a slender man, his bearing too refined for the battlefield. Polished ceremonial armor gleamed beneath a deep-blue outer robe embroidered with gold thread — a noble garment his mother had sewn before the war, each stitch a silent prayer for his safe return.
That robe had endured blood, rain, and fire — yet here it still was, immaculate beneath the hall's pale light. Shen Rui bowed low, the gold threads catching the flicker of incense.
"No word yet, Your Majesty," Shen Rui said. "We have searched Mount Shattered Sun three times. Only a few traces of him are found."
The Emperor's gaze softened slightly, but his voice was edged with quiet sorrow. "They call him the Bravest Under Heaven. And yet he vanishes when victory is attained."
Shen Rui bowed his head, hiding the tension in his jaw. Bravest under heaven. Always that name. Always Yun Zhao.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, "the heavens claimed what was already theirs."
The Emperor looked at him for a long moment. "If he yet lives, tell him this throne owes him a debt that cannot be repaid. If he has fallen… let him rest. Peace needs no ghosts."
"As you command."
Shen Rui rose, straightening the deep-blue robe over his polished armor. The golden threads shimmered faintly as he walked through the hall, catching the eyes of courtiers who whispered behind their fans.
Two junior officials leaned close to each other as he passed. "General Shen returns to the mountain again?" "The Emperor is too biased. General Shen has also shown great capabilities even in General Zhao's absence. Yet all the Emperor cares about is the return of General Zhao. Why even search for someone who doesn't want to be found when General Shen is still here." "Fool, without Yun Zhao, he'd be a name no one remembers."
Shen Rui smiled softly, measured, almost indifferent. The smile reached only the surface — practiced, unreadable. The courtiers noticed him listening and hurried away, murmuring.
Outside the palace gates, the sun is high in the sky, radiating warmth to everything it touches. Shen Rui's hand rested lightly on the reins of his black stallion, its mane glinting like ink in sunlight. The horse whinnied softly, sensing the purpose in his stride, and Shen Rui mounted with practiced ease, ready to set off once more to find his once closest subordinate."
He paused once, glancing back at the palace — victory banners fluttering, the murmurs of courtiers fading.
Even in absence, Shen Rui thought, Yun Zhao still overshadowed him.
With a tilt of the reins, the horse carried him toward the horizon, the path to Mount Shattered Sun stretching like a thin ribbon of destiny. Somewhere beyond the mountains, the one they called Hero was waiting — and Shen Rui would find him.
********
The hut on the mountain sat like a small jewel amid the green and whispering trees. Smoke drifted lazily from its thin chimney, and the faint scent of medicinal herbs hung in the air. Inside, Yun Zhao moved with quiet precision, his hands deftly arranging roots and powders across a low table. The sunlight from the window highlighted the curve of his face, serene and unassuming, belying the power he once wielded in battle.
An incoming presence made him pause his work. Without the sense of sight, all of Yun Zhao's other senses heightened accordingly. His hearing was especially sharp, able to detect the faintest presence. He could tell each sound around him — from falling leaves to ripples in the water. Even footsteps were clear to him. Up close, he could distinguish more by scent. A talent he had always possessed, one that had made him shine in the world his master had hoped for him: the world of medicine.
He allowed himself to be lost in such thoughts because he felt no urgency towards the approaching figure. He could tell it was merely a common mortal, far weaker than him, and... someone familiar.
Still, when the figure crossed the bridge, Yun Zhao cast a glance toward the sleeping serpent, its scales glistening in the sunlight, showing not a hint of waking up, and then stepped forward to greet the visitor.
The cautious visitor, upon seeing Yun Zhao, walked closer to converse. White hair framed his aged face, and though his robes were simple, a quiet authority clung to him. He is the village chief from the village below Mount Shattered Sun, drawn here by the villagers' report of an unfamiliar man climbing the mountain. When he saw the thin curl of smoke rising from the hut, a sense of relief settled over him. This stranger must be someone acquainted with the old master — perhaps even someone learned in medicine too.
"Young man, have you come to inhabit this hut?" the village chief asked, curiosity in his voice. "Tell me, how do you know the old master? Everyone knows him to be elusive, rarely meeting anyone outside the village," he continued.
Yun Zhao remained quiet and motionless under the barrage of questions. The old man was now very close.
Seeing him not answering, the village chief decided to break the silence. "Young man…"
"It has been a long time, Elder Fu," Yun Zhao interrupted, leaving the village chief momentarily speechless.
"You… know me?!" the village chief muttered in surprise. He stepped closer to analyze Yun Zhao's face. Though his eyes had aged, he could still tell this was a handsome man with a scholarly air. A sudden gust of wind made the bell on Yun Zhao's staff chime, capturing the old man's attention. And then it dawned on him: this scholarly figure was no stranger at all.
"Zhao… Xiao Zhao? Is that really you?"
The old man subtly recalled a small boy from the past, one who had followed his master everywhere, and one who had left his master despite being stopped seven years ago — the boy who cried and swore he would never return. And now Yun Zhao stood before him again, a grown gentleman who had long lost all of his childish features. The old man could only imagine what had prompted his return… and why he had come back... blind.
"Xiao Zhao… I do not know why you have returned… nor do I wish to pry, if you would rather not speak." Elder Fu's voice was gentle, careful. He had always known when to ask and when to remain silent.
Yun Zhao remained still, offering only a faint, agreeing smile. Inside, a warmth crept up his chest — not pride, not joy, but a soft embarrassment. Elder Fu had watched him grow alongside his master, had seen both his brilliance and his childish arrogance. He remembered his words that can't be unheard and actions that can't be undone.
Breaking the silence once again, Elder Fu's voice shifted, more serious now. "And how was your journey here, Xiao Zhao? Villagers no longer dare climb the mountain. I only came bravely thanks to the old master's talisman. There has been… a sighting...." Elder Fu lowered his voice and came closer, looking around anxiously. "...of a fearsome serpent demon nearby."
A fearsome... serpent demon... ah, Yun Zhao could not help the faint, wry smile that touched his lips. In his mind, he pictured the creature — more porcelain than menace.
"…Though," Elder Fu continued, "with your martial prowess, the beast should be no different than a common snake. Still be cautious in your stay here."
They spoke a while longer, though it's mostly Elder Fu sharing memories and recent village happenings, while Yun Zhao listened. While Elder Fu was walking away, he couldn't help but scratch his head in quiet wonder. Was that truly Xiao Zhao? So calm, so quiet, so composed — a far cry from the loud, lively boy he remembered.
Change... Yun Zhao had indeed. For no matter who wins the war, the loss will still be greater.
Yun Zhao watched the old man's back vanish into the distance, a faint, unreadable emotion tugging at him. He allowed himself a slow breath, satisfied in knowing that Mount Shattered Sun is still as elusive as he remembers. It has yet to know of Yun Zhao, The Bravest Under Heaven. And he hopes it stays that way, even just a while longer.
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