Shadows of the Past

Jin continued his journey beyond the village, leaving behind the murmurs of wary townsfolk and the ever-watchful eyes of opportunists.

The road ahead was a winding path that led deeper into the wilderness, its edges lined with towering trees that swayed under the moon's watchful gaze.

Though the night was silent, he could feel unseen presences lurking in the shadows, some curious, others predatory.

His thoughts wandered to the Eternal Moon Sect and the tournament. Power was the currency of this world, and to find the answers he sought, he would need strength. Not just his own, but knowledge of how the great sects operated, how their disciples honed their abilities.

But there was another matter that troubled him.

Grandmother Night.

The name had stirred fear in the Azure Sun Sect cultivators.

Who was she, truly?

A whisper of power long forgotten?

A remnant of the Vale's past that still clung to him like an unwanted specter?

If he was to understand his own origins, he had to unravel the truth behind her name.

Lost in thought, Jin nearly missed the shift in the wind. A sudden, unnatural stillness blanketed the air. He halted, senses sharp.

Then, movement—too fast for an ordinary traveler.

From the trees, three figures descended like phantoms, landing lightly on the road ahead of him. Their robes bore the dark sigil of the Iron Bell Sect. Unlike the Azure Sun Sect, this sect had a reputation for ruthlessness; their disciples were trained in the arts of assassination and suppression.

Jin remained still, his expression unreadable as the three approached.

"Strange to see a lone wanderer in these parts," the tallest among them spoke, his voice carrying a cold amusement. "Especially one with such an...unusual presence."

The second, a woman with sharp eyes, studied him with open suspicion. "The Hollow Vale. That is where you came from, isn't it?"

Jin did not respond. Silence, he had learned, could be just as powerful as words.

The third disciple, younger than the others, stepped forward. "We received reports of an anomaly in the Vale. Our sect is tasked with investigating any disturbances in Qi. And you, traveler, reek of something unnatural."

Jin tilted his head slightly. "And what do you intend to do?"

The leader smirked. "That depends. If you cooperate and come with us, we may spare you."

Jin sighed. "I tire of people thinking they can bind me."

The woman's hand flickered, and in an instant, chains of spirit-forged metal shot forward, aimed to ensnare him. Jin barely moved, and yet, the chains never reached him. A ripple of unseen force emanated from his being, and the chains corroded mid-air, turning to dust before they could wrap around him.

The Iron Bell disciples took a wary step back.

"Impossible," the woman whispered. "That wasn't Qi. It was something else."

Jin exhaled slowly. The Hollow Vale had taught him many things—how to command the whispers of the dead, how to wield the decay of time itself. If these cultivators wished to bind him, they would learn the futility of their efforts.

The leader of the group clenched his fists, face dark with realization. "We cannot let him leave. He's an unknown factor. If left unchecked, he could become a threat."

Jin looked at them, his gaze as calm as ever. "You speak as if you have a choice."

In a blur of motion, the young disciple lunged, his blade a flickering arc of steel. Jin did not evade. He did not need to.

The moment the sword came close, it stopped mid-air, as if the very fabric of reality had denied its existence. The disciple's face twisted in shock as his weapon trembled, rusting before his eyes. Then, with a sickening crack, the blade shattered.

Jin placed a single finger on the disciple's chest and pushed. The young man flew back as if struck by an overwhelming force, crashing into a tree with a pained gasp.

The remaining two disciples hesitated. Fear flickered in their eyes.

Jin lowered his hand. "I have no quarrel with you. Leave now."

The leader gritted his teeth, weighing the risks. But whatever arrogance had fueled their confidence before was now gone. With a sharp motion, he gestured for retreat. The two standing disciples collected their fallen comrade and vanished into the night.

Jin exhaled, the eerie stillness dissipating as quickly as it had come. He turned back toward the road, resuming his journey.

The next morning, Jin arrived at a riverside town. It was larger than the previous village, with fortified walls and banners marking allegiance to the Silver Cloud Sect. Merchants and travelers bustled through its streets, and the scent of grilled meats and fresh bread wafted through the air.

He found an inn on the quieter side of town and secured a modest room. Sitting by the window, he watched the people below, noting the occasional patrol of Silver Cloud Sect disciples. Unlike the Iron Bell Sect, they seemed less concerned with hunting anomalies and more with keeping order.

A knock at his door drew his attention. He had not expected company.

He opened the door to find an elderly man with piercing eyes, dressed in the robes of a scholar. "Might I have a word?"

Jin studied him for a moment before stepping aside, allowing the man to enter.

The old scholar took a seat by the table, folding his hands. "I witnessed what transpired last night. The way you dismantled the Iron Bell disciples without effort. It was... unnatural."

Jin remained standing, unmoved. "And?"

The man's expression was unreadable. "I have spent years researching forgotten arts, the echoes of a past that most sects refuse to acknowledge. What you wield—it is not something that should exist."

Jin raised an eyebrow. "Should? Or is it simply something feared?"

The old scholar chuckled. "Perhaps both."

Silence stretched between them before the man leaned forward. "The Eternal Moon Sect's tournament. If you seek knowledge, it will be there. But be warned. The world does not take kindly to those who walk the path of the forgotten."

Jin met his gaze. "I am used to that."

The old scholar nodded, standing. "Then I wish you luck. You will need it."

As the door closed behind him, Jin looked out the window once more. The pieces were falling into place. The world was watching. And soon, he would step onto the stage where power and destiny are intertwined.

With quiet resolve, he prepared for the journey ahead.

The tournament awaited.