The four of them stood at the entrance of the cave, exchanging one final glance. The morning light was now behind them. Before them lay nothing but darkness—deep, dense darkness—and cold gusts of wind blowing from within.
"Ready?" Lixuan asked.
Zhichen nodded. Rongwei tightened his grip on his sword, while Fengli took a deep breath.
Together, the four stepped inside.
As soon as they entered, the light outside gradually faded behind them. The cave walls were damp and covered in moss. The passage was narrow—sometimes widening, sometimes becoming so tight that only one person could pass through at a time. The air was moist, carrying a strange scent, something ancient and earthy, as though air had entered a sealed chamber for the first time in centuries.
And then, from somewhere in the distance, the familiar sound began again.
Whisper... whisper-whisper...
The same sound they had heard in the temple. The same faint murmur of countless voices overlapping one another, their words impossible to distinguish. It sounded as though something was waiting for them in the darkness.
Rongwei raised his sword. "That sound... Was it the same in the temple?"
Lixuan nodded. "Exactly the same."
"And those creatures?"
"They must be somewhere in here as well."
Fengli glanced around. "First, we need to understand the cave's layout. There are two paths ahead—one to the right and one to the left. The right passage leads downward, while the left one goes upward. No one knows where either of them leads."
Zhichen looked towards the passage on the right. It was dark. Deeply dark. The same cold wind that had blown through the chamber in the temple was coming from there.
"The right passage," Zhichen said. "Downward. Whatever we're looking for must be there."
Lixuan nodded. The four of them proceeded along the right-hand passage.
The path gradually descended. With every step, the air grew colder. Water droplets glistened along the cave walls. The whispering had grown louder now, as though countless people were speaking at once, yet not a single word could be understood.
Just then...
Drip.
Something fell onto Lixuan's shoulder. He stopped and looked up. There was nothing but darkness. He couldn't make out anything clearly.
Drip... Drip...
This time, two more droplets fell—one onto Rongwei's hand and another onto Fengli's forehead.
Rongwei touched his hand. His finger was wet. He brought it closer to his eyes. In the faint torchlight, the colour became clear.
Red.
"Blood," he murmured.
All four immediately looked upward.
The torchlight rose towards the ceiling. At first, nothing was visible—only darkness and the damp surface of the cave roof. But as the light travelled higher, shapes slowly began to emerge.
Feet. Legs. Torsos. Arms. Faces.
Corpses were hanging from the cave ceiling.
There were so many of them.
Some appeared partly human, while others looked like something entirely different. Their skin had shrivelled, and its colour had faded. Their arms hung limply below them, as though they were still trying to grasp someone. Their eyes remained open—hollow, dark, and lifeless.
Blood was dripping from those very corpses. Drop by drop. Slowly.
As though someone had hung them there only moments ago.
As though they were still breathing.
Fengli's face turned pale. "These... these are..."
Rongwei raised his sword towards the ceiling. "Are all of them... dead?"
Zhichen's gaze remained fixed above. He studied the corpses carefully for a few moments before speaking.
"They are the same ones."
"Who?" Fengli asked.
"The people who went missing from the villages along Shenqi's border. And perhaps... others as well. Some of them must have been here for a very long time."
Lixuan looked up. The clothes worn by the corpses were different. Some were dressed in relatively new garments, while others wore clothes that looked centuries old. A few wore the uniforms of Shenqi soldiers. Others were dressed like ordinary villagers. And some wore garments... of a kind no longer seen in the world.
"This cave..." Lixuan murmured. "It's a graveyard."
Drip... Drip... Drip...
The blood began falling faster, as though something above them had awakened. As though the corpses themselves were beginning to come alive.
Then, one of the corpses moved its hand.
Another followed.
Then a third.
Their eyes, which had remained hollow until now, slowly turned towards the four people standing below.
"They... they're alive," Rongwei whispered. For the first time, fear was clearly audible in his voice.
In the very next moment, the first corpse released its grip and plunged straight towards them.
One after another, the remaining corpses began falling as well.
Thud... Thud... Thud...
Like ripe fruit dropping from a tree.
The four immediately raised their swords. Blue and black light raced along the blades, while the flames of their torches trembled in the darkness.
And before them, the corpses began to rise.
Their hollow eyes were fixed on the four. They held no swords, only long, shrivelled claws. Their lips, dried and cracked, slowly began whispering the same word.
And then, all at once, they charged towards them.
---
Shenmei Palace
The morning sunlight had spread across the entire courtyard of Shenmei Palace. A cool breeze drifted beneath the shade of the trees.
But Lichen could feel none of it.
She stepped out of her chamber. There was no hesitation in her movements anymore. Her steps were quick and firm, as though with every step she was crushing a fear buried deep within herself.
A bandage still covered her eyes, but her mind was clear. She knew exactly where she needed to go.
The training grounds.
The place where Rongwei practised his sword every morning. The place from which the familiar clash of blades could always be heard. She had once come there alone, simply to listen.
But today, she had come for something else.
When she reached the training grounds, she stopped. She carefully sensed every sound around her.
No one was there.
Everyone had gone to the cave. The courtyard was silent.
She took a deep breath and stretched out her hands. Slowly, she began searching for the swords with her fingers.
One by one.
The wooden hilts. The cold steel blades.
Some swords were heavy, others light. Some were long, while others were short. She touched each one carefully, almost as though she were trying to communicate with them.
Then, suddenly, her fingers stopped on the hilt of a particular sword.
She felt something.
An unusual warmth.
It was as though the sword was trying to tell her something.
The bracelet tied around her wrist gradually began to grow warm as well, as though it recognised the sword. As though the two were connected to one another.
Lichen slowly lifted the sword.
It was heavy, but the moment she grasped its hilt, the weight seemed to lessen. It was almost as though the sword itself had adjusted to her hands.
And as soon as she raised it before herself, an unusual blue light travelled along its blade.
It was faint and gentle, yet unmistakable—at least to anyone who could see it.
Lichen could feel it.
The light.
The warmth.
The power.
"This sword..." she murmured. "There's something different about it."
She had no idea whose sword it was. She did not know that the same blue light sometimes shimmered along Zhichen's blade. She did not know that the power awakening within her was connected, in part, to Zhichen's own power.
All she knew was that this sword was calling to her.
She held it firmly with both hands, planted her feet against the ground, and for the first time in her entire life, swung a sword through the air.
The blade sliced through the air.
A familiar sound rang out—the very same clash she had heard every morning.
Her balance faltered. Her steps stumbled.
But she did not stop.
She tried again.
And again.
And again.
With every attempt, the sword seemed to fit more naturally in her hands. Each time, the blue light grew a little brighter, as though the sword was beginning to recognise her.
As though it was teaching her.
"I can fight," Lichen whispered.
Her breathing was uneven, and sweat had gathered on her forehead, but there was not the slightest hesitation in her voice.
"I can fight. I may be blind, but I am not weak."
She raised the sword before her face.
Behind the bandage, there was only darkness.
But within that darkness, a blue light was now shining.
That sword... it could have had any name.
But at that moment, in Lichen's hands, it had only one meaning.
Hope.
Just then, footsteps sounded at the entrance of the training grounds.
It was Xiangu.
He had been carrying some ancient texts from his chamber, but the moment his gaze fell upon the training grounds, he stopped.
Standing before him was Lichen.
A bandage covered her eyes, and she held a sword in her hands—a sword with a blue blade, its glow slowly fading. Her breathing was heavy, and sweat covered her forehead.
It was clear that she had just finished practising.
Xiangu's gaze first fell upon Lichen, then shifted towards the sword.
The moment he noticed its hilt and blade, his expression changed instantly.
"This... This is..." The words slowly escaped his lips.
His eyes widened.
For a few moments, he stood completely still, as though he could not believe what he was seeing. He shook his head slightly, trying to dismiss the possibility as an illusion.
But the sword remained exactly where it was.
The same blue blade.
The same hilt.
The same emblem of a moon and a wave.
"Yuehan..." he murmured to himself.
"This is Zhichen's sword. But... Zhichen's sword is supposed to be with Zhichen. He never parts with it. Then how...?"
He closed his eyes and opened them again.
The sword was still there.
In Lichen's hands.
"And this sword... no one can even touch Yuehan except its rightful master. If anyone else tried, their palm would burn, and the blade would be stained with their blood. But this... this sword..."
Xiangu's gaze returned to Lichen.
She stood calmly, holding the sword in her hands. Her palm was unharmed. The blue light still shimmered along the blade.
The sword had accepted her.
"Who... is this girl?" Xiangu whispered to himself.
But deep down, he already knew the answer.
He simply wasn't ready to accept it.
Lichen turned her face towards him. She had sensed someone's presence.
"Who is there? Chief?"
Xiangu quickly composed himself. He took a deep breath and forced his expression back to normal.
He knew this was not the right time to tell Lichen anything. He himself was still trying to understand what had just happened.
"No one, Lichen," he replied calmly. "I only came to put away some ancient texts. You may continue your practice."
Lichen lowered her head.
"Yes, Chief."
Xiangu glanced at the sword one last time.
Yuehan.
Zhichen's sword.
Now resting in Lichen's hands.
Without saying another word, he turned and walked away.
As he made his way through the corridor, his mind was in turmoil.
Zhichen's sword.
The blue light in Lichen's hands.
The ancient text discovered in the temple.
When two powers become one, only then shall the third remain protected.
And now this...
"Perhaps everything is finally beginning to make sense," he murmured to himself. "But the time has not yet come."
---
Shenqi Cave
The darkness inside the cave seemed to grow deeper with every passing moment. Torchlight danced across the walls. The blood dripping from above had not stopped. It fell slowly, rhythmically, almost like the beating of a heart.
The four had their swords raised.
Before them, the corpses had risen again. Their eyes were open—hollow, dark, and lifeless. With broken, unsteady steps, they advanced towards the four.
Long, shrivelled claws extended from their hands.
The very same claws that had once gripped Lixuan by the throat in the temple.
The first corpse attacked.
Lixuan blocked it with his sword. Black light raced along the blade. He severed the creature's hand, but no blood flowed from the wound.
Only dust.
As though nothing remained inside its body.
A second corpse lunged towards Rongwei.
Rongwei struck it down.
A third attacked Fengli, while a fourth charged at Zhichen.
Blue light burst from Zhichen's sword, tearing through the corpse's chest. The creature staggered backwards, but it did not stop.
It was as though it could not feel pain at all.
"Why won't they stop?" Rongwei shouted.
"They won't stop," Lixuan replied. "Not until their bodies are completely destroyed."
"Then destroy them completely!"
The four began attacking the corpses together.
One after another.
Arms, legs, torsos.
Dust filled the air. A thick cloud spread throughout the cave, making it difficult to breathe.
But then something happened that none of them had anticipated.
One of the corpses that had just crumbled into dust slowly began to rise again.
First its hands.
Then its legs.
Then its torso.
It was as though the scattered dust was gathering itself back together. As though death itself was sending the creature back.
"They... they're coming back to life!" Fengli exclaimed in disbelief.
And he was right.
Every corpse they had destroyed began rising again, one after another. Their eyes opened once more, and the same long claws emerged from their hands.
Once again, they advanced towards the four.
"They're never going to end!" Rongwei tightened his grip on his sword. "What do we do now?"
Lixuan looked towards Zhichen.
Zhichen's gaze remained fixed on the darkness ahead, as though he were waiting for something.
And then...
Thak... Thak... Thak...
Footsteps.
They came from the far end of the cave.
Slow and heavy.
As though someone was walking barefoot across the stone floor.
All the corpses stopped at once.
Their eyes turned towards the source of the sound. Their dry lips slowly closed, as though someone had given them an order.
Thak... Thak...
The footsteps drew closer.
The four kept their swords raised. The torch flames trembled, and the air inside the cave grew colder with every passing moment.
Then, a figure emerged from the darkness.
A man.
Tall and slender.
He wore robes of white and red. His face was pale, his hair white, and his eyes...
Red.
Deep red.
As though drops of blood had settled inside them.
He slowly walked forward, and every corpse moved aside to make way for him. It was as though his mere presence commanded them to stop.
He raised his hand.
A single gesture.
And all the corpses sat down on the ground at once. Their eyes closed, as though their time had finally come to an end.
The man looked towards the four.
His red eyes appeared even darker in the torchlight.
"You have... come a very long way," he said slowly.
His voice was deep, almost ancient, as though it had been buried beneath centuries of silence.
"This place is not meant for you."
Lixuan raised his sword.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled faintly.
It was a smile that seemed stained with blood.
"I am the guardian of this cave. And all of you... are merely guests in this place."
His red eyes shifted towards them.
"And guests have no business being here."
The air inside the cave seemed to stand still. Even the flames of the torches appeared motionless.
The corpses remained seated on the ground, their eyes closed and their heads lowered, as though they had been sent into a deep slumber.
The man moved his red gaze first towards Zhichen, then towards Lixuan.
His stare was so intense that it seemed as though he could look straight through their bodies.
Then he slowly stepped forward.
Each step produced a faint sound against the stone floor.
"You two..." he murmured, his voice deep and heavy, as though he had been speaking for centuries. "Why did you go to my temple?"
Lixuan frowned slightly and glanced towards Zhichen.
Zhichen's eyes remained fixed on the man, completely calm.
The man tilted his head slightly, as though lost in an old memory.
"What gave you the courage? Who gave you permission to enter that place?"
He raised his hand.
His fingers were long and withered, marked with stains of blood.
He pointed one finger towards Lixuan.
"That temple belongs to me. Mine. And the two of you went there and defiled it."
Lixuan tightened his grip on his sword.
"Your temple? Who are you?"
The man smiled faintly.
The smile was so cold that a shiver ran down Rongwei's spine.
"My name means nothing to you. All you need to know is that the temple stands upon my very foundation. It was built through my power. Everything within it—every wall, every chamber, every ancient text—belongs to me."
Zhichen finally spoke.
His voice was calm, but there was a certain depth to it.
"We went to that temple under Elder Yunshen's orders. He was the one who sent us."
The man turned his red eyes towards Zhichen.
For a few moments, he remained silent, as though weighing his words.
"Yunshen?" he murmured.
"Hmm... That old man. So he is still alive."
He shook his head slightly.
"But it makes no difference who sent you. What matters is that you entered the final chamber of my temple. The place where only I am permitted to go. The place over which I alone have authority."
Lixuan stepped forward.
"Then what are you going to do? Stop us here?"
The man fixed his red eyes on Lixuan.
There was no anger in his gaze now.
Something else had taken its place.
Something deep and ancient, as though he were waiting for something to happen.
"No. I will not stop you," he said slowly. "But what you saw and found inside that temple... should never have left that place with you."
He extended his hand.
An unusual wave of energy swept through the air. The flames of the torches bent in the same direction.
"That ancient text... belongs to me. I wrote it."
Lixuan tightened his grip on his sword. His gaze remained fixed on the man's red eyes.
"That text... contained nothing clear. Only a few lines could be understood. Everything else had been erased by the drops of blood. We only managed to read—"
Zhichen stepped forward and interrupted him.
"What did those lines mean?"
The man turned his red eyes towards Zhichen.
Then that same cold smile spread across his lips.
He slowly shook his head.
"Even though it is right beside you, you still do not recognise it," he said, his voice carrying an unusual depth. "And yet, that is your future."
Lixuan frowned.
"What do you mean?"
The man moved his hand through the air. The torch flames bent once again, as though they breathed only at his command.
"Those lines you read... were no ordinary words. They were written for you. For the two of you. And for the third one, who remains unaware of her own identity."
Rongwei leaned closer to Lixuan and whispered into his ear.
"Master Xiu, this man is insane. We should leave."
But Lixuan paid no attention to him.
His gaze remained fixed on the stranger.
"You wrote that text. Then you must know what those lines mean. Tell us."
The man lowered his head slightly. His red eyes seemed to grow even deeper.
"When two powers become one, only then shall the third remain protected. When two hearts become one, only then shall the third bond be broken. And when two paths converge, only then shall the third gate open."
He repeated the prophecy slowly, word by word, as though breathing life into each line.
The cave walls echoed with his voice.
The corpses remained seated, their eyes closed, as though they too were listening.
"This is your future. Yet neither of you has realised it. You are both masters of your own powers, but the true meaning behind those powers remains hidden from you."
Lixuan looked towards Zhichen.
Zhichen looked back at him.
Something stirred in their eyes—not merely questions, but an unfamiliar sense of recognition. As though, deep within themselves, they could feel the truth of those words, yet neither could put that feeling into words.
The man lowered his hand.
The torch flames straightened once more.
"But the time has not yet come. Neither of you is ready. And the third... she remains unaware of her own power. When she awakens, everything will change."
Having said that, he slowly began stepping backwards.
His red eyes remained fixed on the four.
"Until then... this text will remain here, with me. I will protect it. For only the one who truly owns it has the right to read it."
Lixuan kept his eyes fixed on the man. Tightening his grip on his sword, he tried to step forward, but Zhichen extended his hand and stopped him.
The man slowly stretched out his own hand.
An unusual ripple swept through the air.
And then...
Whoosh...
A faint sound, as though the very air had transformed into an ancient text.
In the next instant, a book appeared in the man's hand.
The very same book.
The same ancient, torn fragment covered in red stains.
The one Lixuan and Zhichen had brought back from the temple.
The one that had been kept safely inside Shenmei Palace.
Lixuan's eyes widened.
He looked towards Zhichen.
For the first time, even Zhichen's expression changed. His usually calm eyes were now filled with disbelief.
"How... How is this possible?" Lixuan murmured. "That book was in Shenmei Palace."
Rongwei stepped forward.
"Master Xiu, what is this man doing? How did the book appear here?"
Fengli raised his sword as well.
"This is magic. Or some kind of illusion."
The man smiled faintly. He turned the book over in his hands, as though every inch of it was familiar to his fingers.
"I told you. This book belongs to me. It recognised me, and this is where it truly belongs."
"But we placed it inside the palace with our own eyes," Lixuan said. Anger was now evident in his voice.
The man turned his red eyes towards him.
"That book cannot remain locked inside a chamber. It does not obey restraints. Whenever its true master calls for it, it returns, no matter where it is."
With that, he pressed the book against his chest.
And then...
Whoosh...
A powerful gust of wind swept through the cave.
All the torches went out at once.
Darkness.
Complete darkness.
The four immediately raised their swords. Blue and black light once again raced along the blades.
But even their light was no match for the darkness surrounding them.
Then, when the torches mysteriously relit themselves, the man was gone.
Vanished.
As though he had never been there.
But the corpses...
The corpses were hanging from the ceiling once again.
In exactly the same places.
Their eyes were closed, and blood had begun dripping from them once more.
Drip... Drip... Drip...
The silence that had filled the cave before returned.
Only the dripping blood and the four people's heavy breathing could be heard.
"What... What is happening?" Rongwei's voice trembled with fear.
Lixuan looked towards Zhichen.
Zhichen's gaze remained fixed on the corpses hanging above them. His breathing was steady, and his expression had returned to its usual calmness.
Perhaps he had understood something.
Perhaps he hadn't.
"Whatever we just witnessed... it was real," Lixuan said quietly. "And now that ancient text is no longer with us."
Fengli asked, "Then what do we do now?"
Zhichen looked up at the hanging corpses. Blood continued to drip from the ceiling, and the passage ahead seemed darker than before.
"We return," he said calmly. "There is nothing left for us here."
Shenmei Clan
Inside a quiet chamber of Shenmei Palace, the morning sunlight filtered through the window.
Xiangu sat in his chair with his eyes closed and his hands resting in his lap. His breathing was slow, as though he were physically present in this world while his mind wandered somewhere far away.
He was trying to communicate with Zhichen through his spiritual power.
Silently, he repeated Zhichen's name in his mind.
Again and again.
Zhichen... Zhichen...
A few moments later, a faint voice echoed within his mind.
Zhichen's voice.
"Brother?"
Xiangu kept his eyes closed.
"Zhichen. Are you alright?"
"Yes. Everything is fine."
"Where is your sword?"
A brief silence followed.
Then Zhichen's calm, steady voice came again.
"It's with me, Brother. Why do you ask?"
Xiangu slowly exhaled.
"Nothing. I was just asking."
Zhichen remained silent for a few moments before asking, "Is everything alright? What about Lichen?"
"Everything is fine. Just take care of yourself."
"Hmm."
And with that, their conversation ended.
Xiangu opened his eyes.
His gaze settled on the table before him, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
He had not told Zhichen the truth.
He knew perfectly well that Zhichen's sword, Yuehan, was indeed with him.
He had seen it in Lichen's hands only a short while ago.
At the training grounds.
Shimmering with blue light.
And that sword...
It could only be touched by its rightful master.
Only Zhichen could wield it.
Or perhaps... someone else who possessed a power similar to his.
Xiangu placed a hand against his forehead.
"Yuehan... in Lichen's hands..." he murmured to himself.
"And Zhichen doesn't even know about it. How is this possible? Or does it mean something else? Something we have yet to understand?"
He closed his eyes once again.
This time, he wasn't communicating with anyone.
He was simply thinking about the mystery that was slowly unfolding before him.
And perhaps the answer would not come from Zhichen, but from the girl he had always considered nothing more than a disciple.