The morning after the seal incident, the Whispering Blades Sect seemed unusually quiet. The mist clung to the mountains longer than usual, and the disciples spoke in hushed tones, as though the air itself was listening.
Lin Feng, as always, didn't seem bothered. He sat on the steps of the eastern courtyard, peeling an apple with an oddly elegant knife, the kind that looked better suited for ceremonial duels than fruit preparation.
Wei Qing paced back and forth beside him. "You're really calm about all this. There was a cursed seal under the mountain—someone tried to kill you—and you're just… eating fruit?"
Lin Feng tilted his head slightly. "I find that danger pairs nicely with breakfast."
Wei Qing threw his hands up. "I give up."
"Good," Lin Feng said mildly. "Now sit down before you trip on your own indignation."
---
They didn't have long to enjoy the morning.
A disciple hurried down the stone steps, panting. "Senior Lin! The Elder of Records—he's asking for you. He… he's not well."
Lin Feng stood immediately, his usual calm now edged with quiet concern. "Take me."
The Records Hall was deep within the sect, lined with scrolls that smelled of dust and age. The elder who kept it—Elder Mu—was one of the oldest members of the Whispering Blades, a man whose eyes had seen both peace and ruin. He lay now on a low bed of woven straw, his breathing shallow.
Lin Feng approached, his expression softening. "Elder Mu."
The old man turned weakly, eyes clouded yet faintly aware. "So you are… Lin Feng," he rasped. "The one the Sect Leader has spoken of."
Lin Feng inclined his head slightly. "That's me. Though I don't recall doing enough to earn a reputation."
The elder gave a faint, wheezing laugh. "Reputations rarely ask for permission before they arrive."
Lin Feng smiled faintly. "True enough."
---
The elder gestured weakly toward a small wooden box by his side. "Inside… you'll find a letter. Not addressed, not sealed. It came to us a month ago… no sender, no messenger. But when you arrived, it began to glow."
Lin Feng frowned slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Glow?"
Elder Mu nodded faintly. "I thought… it might be yours."
Lin Feng opened the box carefully. Inside lay a single piece of parchment—aged, yellowed, its edges slightly charred. But as he touched it, the faintest shimmer of light passed over the surface, as if recognizing him.
The writing on it was simple—elegant brushstrokes that seemed to hum faintly with spiritual resonance.
He began to read.
---
> "To the One Who Walks Twice."
"The world forgets easily, but not all Threads were cut. The seal beneath the mountain is not the first, nor the last. They are keys—anchors—holding what you once bound in your final act.
You scattered your name, your memory, your throne. Yet the heavens still whisper it when the stars turn red.
The Bound Star stirs again."
"When you see the mark of the Fallen Sun, remember: it was never the heavens who betrayed you."
"—From One Who Still Remembers."
---
Lin Feng stared at the letter for a long time, expression unreadable.
Wei Qing broke the silence first. "That's… quite poetic. Do you have any idea what it means?"
Lin Feng folded the parchment carefully. "Unfortunately, yes. And I wish I didn't."
He placed the letter back in the box and looked at Elder Mu, who was watching him closely.
"You knew something," Lin Feng said quietly.
The elder coughed, struggling to breathe. "Only whispers. About a… Sovereign who vanished when the heavens trembled. Some say he destroyed his own realm to save others. Some say he was betrayed by those closest to him."
Lin Feng's expression didn't change, but his eyes softened, distant.
"Stories are like reflections, Elder. They show pieces, not the whole."
The old man smiled faintly. "And which are you? Reflection… or reality?"
Lin Feng smiled back, gentle but cryptic. "Depends on who's looking."
---
Moments later, Elder Mu's breathing slowed. The faintest smile lingered on his lips as he whispered, "Then perhaps… the world isn't done remembering."
And with that, he was gone.
Wei Qing lowered his head respectfully. "He… he knew it was coming, didn't he?"
Lin Feng nodded. "The wise often do. It's the rest of us who need time to catch up."
He placed the wooden box beside the elder's still hand, then turned quietly toward the door.
Outside, the wind shifted—carrying with it a faint scent of plum blossoms, though none bloomed nearby.
---
That evening, Lin Feng stood by the mountain's edge, holding the letter again.
The moonlight traced faint silver lines across the parchment, highlighting hidden runes—ancient sigils only visible under night sky.
"Fallen Sun…" he murmured. "You're still out there, aren't you?"
He remembered, briefly, a time long ago — when empires bowed and stars bent to his will.
He remembered betrayal.
And fire.
And a quiet voice promising that even gods could bleed.
He folded the letter, tucking it inside his robe. "Then I suppose it's time I start walking toward the storm again."
---
A soft rustle broke his thoughts. Wei Qing approached, holding a lantern. "You keep talking to yourself lately. Should I be worried?"
Lin Feng gave him a small, amused smile. "Only if I start answering back."
Wei Qing sighed. "Too late."
They stood in silence for a while, looking down the mountain road. Fireflies flickered in the dark, tiny sparks in the endless night.
"So," Wei Qing said quietly, "what now?"
Lin Feng looked toward the horizon. "Now? We leave. The world's threads are stirring again, and I'd rather meet them on my own terms."
Wei Qing frowned. "You're really not going to explain, are you?"
Lin Feng chuckled softly. "Explaining ruins the mystery. And without mystery, life becomes terribly boring."
---
As they left the Whispering Blades Sect behind, Lin Feng took one last glance at the mountain peaks. He could still feel faint energy from the silenced seal below—like a sleeping giant waiting to be stirred.
"Sleep while you can," he whispered. "The world is waking."
And then, with the faintest smile, he stepped onto the road, the lantern light catching his calm face as the wind carried them toward the unknown.