The First Battle
Xian Ye's muscles tensed, his mind shifting into an unnatural calm.
Two Outer Sect disciples. Both armed. Both intent on killing him.
There was no time to think.
The first disciple lunged, his Qi-blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Xian Ye's body moved before his mind could register the action—a sidestep, smooth and effortless, the blade missing him by inches.
His opponent's eyes widened in shock.
Xian Ye had no cultivation.
He should not have been able to dodge.
The second disciple reacted faster. He channeled Qi into his palm, forming a spear of energy and hurling it at Xian Ye's chest.
For a fraction of a second, time slowed.
His heartbeat steadied. His vision sharpened.
Then—instinct took over.
He twisted his torso, just enough for the Qi spear to graze past his ribs, tearing through the fabric of his robe but leaving his flesh untouched. At the same time, his right foot pivoted forward, closing the distance between him and the first disciple.
Before the man could react, Xian Ye's fist connected with his throat.
A sharp gagging sound escaped the disciple's lips. His eyes bulged as he staggered back, clutching his crushed windpipe. He collapsed, choking for breath.
One down.
The second disciple cursed and leapt backward, trying to create distance. His hands moved in a flurry of seals, Qi swirling around him as he prepared another attack.
"What the hell are you?" he spat.
Xian Ye didn't answer.
His body still felt foreign, like it was acting on memories he didn't own. He had never trained in martial arts. He had never cultivated.
And yet—his movements were perfect.
His strikes, precise.
His instincts, inhumanly sharp.
His body, operating at a level that shouldn't be possible for someone with no Qi.
The sigil on his chest throbbed, a faint warmth radiating through his veins.
"Is this what it gave me?"
But there was no time to dwell on it.
The remaining disciple finished his technique.
"Die!"
A blast of compressed Qi erupted toward Xian Ye, splitting the air with raw power.
He had no way to block it.
His only option was to—
The Unseen Step
His body reacted.
Xian Ye's feet shifted, his stance changing in an instant. A movement so natural, so seamless—
As if he had done it a thousand times before.
And then—he was gone.
Or rather, he wasn't where he had been a moment ago.
The Qi blast tore through empty space, smashing into the cavern wall behind him, sending shards of rock flying.
The disciple's face twisted in disbelief.
"What—?"
He didn't get to finish.
Xian Ye was already behind him.
His hand shot forward, fingers striking a precise point at the base of the disciple's neck.
The man's body seized up, his Qi flickering like a dying flame. He collapsed forward, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Silence returned to the cavern.
Xian Ye exhaled slowly, his fingers still tingling from the last strike.
He looked down at his hands.
"That movement… that technique…"
It was not something he had learned.
It had been given to him.
Not just knowledge, not just instinct—but mastery.
The sigil on his chest pulsed again, as if acknowledging its work.
And suddenly, he understood.
"This mark… It's not just a memory."
"It's a fragment of what I used to be."
A piece of his former self, returning to him.
Which meant—there were more.
The Aftermath
Xian Ye turned his gaze toward the fallen disciples.
He could end them now—permanently. It would be easy. A single movement, a precise strike.
But something inside him resisted.
"They don't matter."
Leaving them alive was a risk, but killing them would draw unnecessary attention.
Besides—he had something more important to focus on.
His next step.
He had proven one thing tonight—he was not powerless.
And if this sigil was only a fraction of what he had lost, then he needed to find the rest.
He glanced toward the collapsed obsidian gate, the remnants of ancient power still lingering in the air.
This was just the beginning.