A Name Forgotten
Xian Ye stood in the cavern, his breath steady despite the fight that had just ended. The fallen disciples lay unconscious behind him, their shallow breaths the only sign they still lived.
He should have been panicking. He had just taken down two trained cultivators without any Qi. He had moved faster than his body should allow, reacted with instincts that shouldn't exist.
Yet, he felt nothing but clarity.
His hands were steady. His heart, calm.
The sigil on his chest pulsed once—a quiet reminder that something inside him had awakened.
"How much more is buried beneath the surface?"
The thought lingered in his mind as he turned his attention to the collapsed obsidian gate.
This place had called him here. Had tested him. Had given him something back.
But it was only the first step.
There was more. There had to be more.
He clenched his fists.
"I need to leave before others come looking."
With one last glance at the ruined altar, he turned and vanished into the shadows of the cavern.
The Path Back
The Outer Sect Training Grounds were silent when Xian Ye emerged from the hidden passage, the air thick with the damp chill of the night.
He moved quickly, navigating through the trees with a confidence he hadn't possessed before. Every step felt lighter, every movement sharper.
It wasn't just speed or strength.
It was awareness.
The weight of the night breeze, the distant shifting of leaves, the faint rustling of spirit beasts in the underbrush—he could sense it all.
"This isn't normal."
Even experienced cultivators relied on Qi to heighten their senses. But Xian Ye had none. So why could he feel everything so clearly?
His mind flashed back to the battle in the cavern.
That movement… That technique…
The Unseen Step.
It had saved his life, allowing him to evade the Qi blast at the last second. But it hadn't just been an evasion—it had been a technique. A skill that felt… natural.
As if he had used it before.
"Not just a fragment of memory… but a fragment of mastery."
He was recovering more than just his past.
He was recovering his abilities.
But the question remained—who had he been before all of this?
The sigil on his chest throbbed once, a silent answer he couldn't yet understand.
Xian Ye exhaled and pressed forward.
The Silver-Eyed Disciple
By the time he reached the outer sect dormitories, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first traces of dawn.
But something was wrong.
A figure stood waiting near the entrance.
Still.
Silent.
Watching.
Xian Ye's steps slowed.
Silver eyes met his.
The disciple from before.
"You're still alive."
His voice was unreadable, laced with something between curiosity and amusement.
Xian Ye didn't answer.
Something about this man felt off. Not threatening. But… familiar.
As if he had seen those silver eyes before.
The disciple studied him for a moment longer before tilting his head slightly.
"I assume you had an eventful night."
Xian Ye's eyes narrowed.
The way he said it—it wasn't a question.
It was a statement.
As if he already knew.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
The disciple smiled faintly.
"Of course you don't."
He turned, beginning to walk past Xian Ye, but just before he passed him, he murmured something too low for anyone else to hear.
"I wonder how much longer you can pretend."
Then, he was gone.
Xian Ye remained standing there, the air suddenly feeling heavier around him.
"Who are you?"
"And why do you look at me like you already know the answer?"
He clenched his fists.
"I need answers."
And he was going to find them.
No matter what it took.