Chapter 41 : Echoes Reunited

The stone beneath Jin Ye's feet was warm—too warm.

He knelt, fingers grazing one of the broken formation lines etched along the ground. The Qi embedded in it was fading, not gone entirely, but exhausted. Whoever designed it hadn't just tried to kill him—they'd meant to erase him.

A few moments passed before he stood again.

Then came the footfalls.

Soft. Measured. Familiar.

Shen Li's voice rang out, low and casual. "You look like hell."

Jin Ye turned, offering a faint smirk. "You should see the other side."

Shen Li stepped into the chamber with a slight limp, a smear of blood trailing down his forearm. He tossed a small cloth to the ground—a stained banner from one of the Zhao clan's disciples. "Some friends of our mutual fan club tried to introduce me to the wall back there."

"And?" Jin Ye asked.

Shen Li rolled his shoulders. "I introduced them to mine."

Not far behind, Bai Xueqing entered with more grace than wear. A few strands of her hair were loose, and her robes were dusted with dirt, but otherwise, she looked untouched. Her eyes swept the chamber—and lingered on the corpses.

"You're late," Jin Ye said.

She tilted her head, smiling faintly. "You didn't need help."

Then she looked down at the Foundation cultivator's body, the pool of blood already congealing beneath him. Her smile faded.

"You killed him alone?"

Jin Ye nodded.

Shen Li let out a low whistle. "You're not even pretending to stay at Qi Refinement anymore, huh?"

"I'm still at the ninth stage," Jin Ye replied. He wiped his blade clean on the hem of a fallen attacker's robe. "I'm just not standing still in it."

Bai narrowed her gaze slightly, as if she wanted to press further. But she let it go.

For now.

Shen Li walked over to one of the fallen and nudged the body with his boot. "Wang Yiran?"

Jin Ye didn't speak.

The silence was answer enough.

"Good." Shen Li didn't smile. "That snake would've poisoned the sect from the inside."

They lingered in silence a moment longer. Then Bai looked toward the far end of the chamber, where a pair of ancient doors—half-buried in roots and dust—stood quietly pulsing with spiritual light.

She gestured. "That's the next step. Those doors only pulse when someone completes the previous trial."

"Then we're ahead of the pack," Jin Ye said.

"Or walking into something worse," Shen Li muttered.

Jin Ye sheathed his sword. "Isn't that always the way?"

The ancient doors loomed ahead, their surface covered in layered carvings that pulsed faintly with residual spiritual light. The stone glowed a soft silver, not from any torch or lantern, but from within—like it was reacting to their presence.

Jin Ye placed a hand against the cold surface. His legacy mark—still faintly glowing on his palm—flared in response.

Click.

The stone mechanisms groaned. Locks older than dynasties turned with slow, deliberate rhythm.

Then—

The doors opened.

A gust of stale air rolled out, dry and ancient, carrying the scent of old herbs, scorched earth, and something faintly metallic—like old blood.

Beyond lay a descending path, carved into the mountain's heart. Pillars lined the hallway like tomb sentinels, each bearing a different weapon embedded into its base: a rusted halberd, a cracked fan, a broken staff. All of them relics left behind by those who had once passed through and didn't return.

Shen Li clicked his tongue. "Friendly."

Bai Xueqing's voice was barely above a whisper. "These aren't just weapons. They're offerings."

Jin Ye stepped past the threshold. "Let's move."

Elsewhere, a different set of footsteps echoed in another corridor.

Zhao Tian, face bruised and jaw tight, led a group of seven. Behind him, three disciples from the Zhao Clan, one from the Ren Clan, and two rogue cultivators who had proven themselves in the earlier trials.

The last, a bald, wide-shouldered man in a spiked pauldron, grunted. "You sure this is where they went?"

Zhao Tian didn't look back. "The formation's residual pulse is still active. This wasn't just a passage—they triggered a deeper trial."

One of the rogue cultivators grinned. "So you think they found a vault?"

"I think they killed whoever was guarding it," Zhao Tian muttered, his tone dark. "And if there's anything left behind… it belongs to us."

The bald man cracked his knuckles. "I've heard the sect sealed artifacts in the lower sanctum. Stuff from the original Azure Sky ancestors."

"If that's true," said the Ren Clan disciple, "even a single fragment could be enough to gain favor with the Elders."

Zhao Tian finally looked back.

"I don't care what's in there. I want Jin Ye's head."

The others fell quiet.

The group moved forward—hungry, ambitious, and unaware that the man they were hunting had already stepped beyond where maps ended and legends began.

The tunnel descended deeper, the light dimming with every step. The temperature dropped too, not with cold, but with age. This was the kind of stillness only places untouched for centuries carried—where even Qi moved slower.

They passed beneath a cracked stone arch, its top inscribed with faded script:

"Only those who carry the will of the sect may bear its weight."

"What do you think that means?" Shen Li asked quietly.

"Either we find something powerful," Bai replied, her voice low, "or something that will try to kill us."

They continued forward until the narrow path gave way to an open chamber—circular, like a stone arena sunken into the earth. The floor bore a massive formation circle, dormant but humming faintly with power. In the center stood a stone pedestal, atop which rested a single, sealed jade box, no bigger than a child's chest.

Jin Ye's eyes narrowed. "That's either a reward… or bait."

Shen Li stepped beside him. "Only one way to find out."

Before anyone could move, the formation flickered. Dust fell from the ceiling as the carved runes around the pedestal lit up—one after the next, forming a ring of glowing symbols that pulsed with slow, rhythmic energy.

Then… something groaned.

Not metal.

Not stone.

Bone.

Bai froze. "Did you hear that?"

They all turned toward the far wall, where the stone surface began to… shift. A faint outline appeared. It had the shape of a man—but far too tall, hunched, arms long, skeletal.

Shen Li swore under his breath. "Oh, hells."

From within the wall, something began to pull itself free.

A sealed guardian, awakened by the formation's activation.

Its eyes opened—hollow sockets glowing with ghostfire. A skeletal figure draped in decayed robes, its spine fused with rusted chains, and its chest marked with the Azure Sky Sect's ancient crest.

A whisper echoed through the room—not from its mouth, but from the runes themselves.

"One shall be tested. One shall be judged. One shall fall."

The guardian stepped forward, dragging its blade—a jagged, broken saber that still pulsed with deadly Qi.

Jin Ye took a slow breath and stepped ahead of the others.

His voice was calm, resolute.

"Then test me."

The guardian stepped forward, dragging its saber along the ground with a scraping shriek of metal against stone. Its frame was skeletal, but its presence was heavy—each footstep released a wave of pressure that made even Bai Xueqing's breath tighten.

Its eyes burned with blue spirit fire, hollow yet sentient.

Shen Li readied himself. "You sure about this?"

Jin Ye didn't take his eyes off the guardian. "If it's a sect trial, it'll only recognize one challenger."

Bai nodded slowly. "And if it doesn't?"

Jin Ye stepped into the formation circle. "Then I kill it."

As soon as his boots crossed the glowing runes, the entire chamber locked down. A wall of golden energy snapped upward around the arena's edge, sealing him in.

The guardian's head twitched once—then it moved.

Fast.

It lunged with no wind-up, the jagged saber flashing toward Jin Ye's throat. Jin Ye ducked just in time, the edge missing by inches. Sparks exploded as the saber carved through the formation lines behind him.

Jin Ye rolled aside, eyes narrowing.

The thing wasn't just fast—it was trained.

The next blow came downward, brutal and heavy. Jin Ye stepped into the strike with Flowing Phantom Blade – First Movement, redirecting the momentum just enough for it to clash beside him.

The ground cracked from the impact. He retaliated instantly.

Second Movement: Severing Drift.

His blade slid through the guardian's ribcage. The strike should've severed its spine—but it passed through, slowed by some unnatural force, like cutting through half-solid mist. The guardian turned its head unnaturally far, its body following in a delayed twist.

It didn't bleed.

Instead, the runes across its chest flared with deep blue light. Chains snapped from its back, shooting toward Jin Ye like coiling serpents.

He dropped low, using Shadow Phantom Step to vanish in a flicker of mist. The chains slammed into the stone where he'd been, bursting it apart.

He reappeared behind the guardian—Third Movement: Phantom Current, his blade slashing upward in a tight spiral aimed at the base of its skull.

The guardian caught the strike—bare-handed.

Its skeletal fingers clamped around his blade, Qi exploding from its joints like shattered glass. Jin Ye gritted his teeth as his sword was ripped free from his hand and flung aside.

The guardian lifted its saber again.

And stabbed.

Jin Ye twisted—barely—the blade ripping across his side, drawing a searing line of blood through his robe. His war robe flared, absorbing the brunt of the blow, but the weight of it still knocked him off his feet.

He hit the ground hard, rolled, came up on one knee.

The guardian didn't charge. It just stared, hollow-eyed, as if waiting.

Waiting to see if he would stand.

Jin Ye slowly rose, blood trailing from his side, his left arm trembling.

Then… he exhaled.

And his Sword Intent flared to life.

The room darkened—no, not darkness, but depth. Every edge sharpened, every line around him bending slightly as his will extended outward. His sword, lying nearby, trembled on the stone floor—then leapt to his hand.

He stood tall.

Flowing Phantom Blade – Final Movement: Mirrorfall Slash.

He stepped forward once.

And then again.

Each motion was slower than a blink, but to those watching, he seemed to blur.

The guardian raised its saber, energy crackling like a storm.

Jin Ye vanished.

He reappeared directly in front of it, sword raised at an impossible angle.

The guardian struck—so did he.

The two blows collided.

CRACK.

The saber snapped in half.

The guardian's upper body twisted with the force of Jin Ye's cut, blue fire bursting from its eyes as a deep gouge ripped through its chest. The ancient chains on its back shattered one by one.

The figure stumbled.

Fell to its knees.

And bowed.

Its head dipped once—as if acknowledging him.

Then the body collapsed, fading into motes of light that drifted upward into the formation.

The barrier faded.

Silence filled the room.

Jin Ye lowered his sword, blood still running down his ribs—but his stance never wavered.

Shen Li let out a breath. "I've never been both impressed and mildly terrified at the same time."

Bai Xueqing's expression was unreadable. "He didn't just pass a sect trial… he conquered it."

Jin Ye said nothing.

Above the altar, the sealed jade box opened with a click.

Inside, resting on a black velvet lining, was a scroll wrapped in silver ribbon—its aura pulsing faintly with ancient power.

A legacy scroll.

And he had earned it.