The Spatial Rift

As Mo Yu guided her little squad toward the southern highlands, dawn illuminated the eastern sky in shades of crimson and gold. While three other Sword Heart Peak disciples trailed behind, Zhen Lu walked by Zhao Yunxiao. Their task was simple: look into the energy anomalies and notify back without involving any possible dangers.

Zhao said to Zhen, "Senior Sister appears tense." Her sword checks are far too regular.

Zhen agreed. Her eyes always roving the ground, Mo Yu had been somewhat alert since their leaving. Emphasizing observation over action, she had succinctly briefed them and clearly told them to always keep formation.

They arrived at the foothills around noon when the supposed odd events had occurred. The flora here seemed slightly changed: leaves with odd purple veins, flowers blossoming out of season, and strange crystalline structures on bare rock walls.

Mo Yu said, pointing at a thin pass between two rugged hills, "The energy concentration rises beyond that ridge." From now on, keep your personal protective barriers always active.

A figure showed on the road ahead as they neared the pass, prompting Mo Yu to indicate an instant stop. Dressed in Thunderblade Peak's ceremonial mission robes, Nangong Shuang surprised everyone.

He said, "Senior Sister Mo," and bowed respectfully. How lucky timing.

Mo Yu said, "Disciple Nangong," her voice deliberately bland. Thunderblade Peak had no interest in this task, I was unaware.

Nangong grinned faintly. Master Luo was worried about the odd energy patterns. Given my background with lightning-based abnormalities, he asked I provide help.

Mo Yu's gaze tightened somewhat. "Master Luo should have first coordinated with Elder Feng."

Nangong said gently, "Maybe he did." Shall we go along? Reportedly, the phenomena gets stronger as day fades.

Mo Yu had no good reason to decline, despite his obvious unhappiness. She placed Nangong in the center of their formation—far enough to see yet distanced from both Zhen and herself.

The pass opened to a quiet valley with markedly differing atmospheric pressure. Every breath felt somewhat uncomfortable as the air itself appeared charged. Pulsing a vertical tear in space—a fissure radiating violet-hued energy distorting the surrounding surroundings—at the center of the valley hovering about three meters above the earth.

Mo Yu ordered to keep distance. Zhao, get first energy readings.

Zhen looked attentively at the rift. The energy signature was eerily familiar—the unique mix of chaos and sword essence that had characterized Ye Qingqing. The rhythmic pulses, which corresponded to the breathing technique she had created for her most lethal arts, were more worrisome.

Zhao said, his voice tight with focus, "The readings are unprecedented." It's not only high energy; it's patterned, almost like a cultivation technique frozen in time.

Nangong, his eyes shining with interest, came closer to the rift than directed. He observed, "It's growing." Steadily but slowly. And see—there's something apparent inside.

As he neared, Zhen felt a strong resonance developing in his meridians—his own essence reacting to the known energy pattern. Flickering through the violet haze were shadowy pictures of structures like the ancient Endless Sword Sect compound, people moving in regimented training patterns, and momentarily, a central courtyard where two people confronted one another in battle posture.

Mo Yu said, "We should record this and leave." This phenomenon is beyond our capacity to—

Her speech was interrupted by the rift's abrupt intense pulsing, which expanded momentarily before collapsing. Destructive energies burst outward in waves. Zhen immediately identified the pattern: Ye Qingqing's "Violet Severance," a method meant to break spiritual obstacles.

Zhen moved forward and performed "Myriad Swords Returning to Origin" a high-level defensive formation from his prior existence, acting on instinct rather than caution. Around the group, innumerable projections of sword energy appeared to create a protective dome absorbing and redirecting the strong energy back toward the rift.

The moment froze in silence as the energy storm lessened. Zhen grew painfully conscious of every stare directed at him—especially Mo Yu's look of shocked recognition and Nangong's analytical inspection.

That approach... Astonished, Zhao murmured. I have only read about it in old writings.

"A variation taught by the mountain hermit," Zhen said hastily, looking Mo Yu in the eye with quiet appeal to accept the justification. Though I have been training, I have never had reason to use it completely.

Mo Yu's face showed she knew the importance but decided to change focus. Whatever the method, it saved us. But this verifies the hazardous character of this phenomena. We must inform the council its precise characteristics.

Zhen saw Nangong secretly filming something on a little jade tablet—probably recording the precise hand motions Zhen had employed in the method—as they did last observations.

Mo Yu came to the stabilized rift one last time before leaving. "There's definitely another space visible within," she verified. Those structures, on the other hand, look like our sect's historic architecture prior to the reformation.

"Like looking back in time?" Zhao put forward.

Maybe. Maybe. Or maybe a parallel life. She looked at Zhen. What do you feel?

The question was fraught with more significance. Zhen said cautiously, "A recognizable energy pattern. Like past accounts of the Traitor Immortal's methods.

Their trek back started as afternoon turned into evening. Mo Yu carefully planned their camp, giving Nangong the farthest watch and making sure Zhen's rotation matched her own.

Mo Yu at last talked clearly when others had gone to bed and only them stayed awake watching the fire. That was not a change. Originally, that was the method used precisely as described in the Ancestral Records.

Zhen acknowledged it. You have read the historical records.

She confessed, her voice dropping, "More than studied." I have entered Sword Heart Peak's forbidden area of limited archives. The fight between Sect Leader Jiang and the Traitor Immortal is well documented.

Zhen was taken aback by her discovery. Sealed after his death, the archives were only available to peak masters.

The records tell of a prophecy. 'Twin Sword Spirits' refers to a cycle of destruction and rebirth tied to two souls over time. One spirit symbolizing order, one representing anarchy.

You think this has something to do with the present events? Zhen inquired cautiously.

It fits the five-hundred-year cycle described in the prophesy. As she examined him, her eyes mirrored the firelight. The hermit who taught you—he knows more about this than he's revealed, right?

Zhen thought over his answer carefully. Full disclosure was still risky, but Mo Yu had gained more truth than he had so far provided.

Zhen said, "He was there during the first war." A disciple who stayed faithful when others betrayed the sect.

Mo Yu blinked a little. He would have to be more than five hundred years old.

Zhen said, "Some cultivation paths extend life far beyond normal spans." Especially those who saw... terrible spiritual happenings.

She pushed, "Like the fight between Jiang Zhen and Ye Qingqing?"

Zhen gave a tiny nod. The hermit thinks history is cyclical. That the split we observed today is part of a process started five centuries ago.

Your part in this then? Her inquiry was straightforward yet kind.

He replied honestly, "Still finding it." But I think I was meant to help stop instead of enable whatever is coming.

As they considered the swirling flames, their talk faded into comfortable quiet. Something had changed between them: a deeper trust created by shared concern and partial honesty.

In the darkness outside the camp's boundary, Nangong Shuang meanwhile turned on a communication talisman. His exact, whispered report was: "The vessel reacted as expected to the energy of the rift. Though his claimed cultivation level was low, he executed Jiang Zhen's hallmark technique flawlessly. Just as you postulated, the rift exhibits obvious symptoms of temporal convergence. It can go on schedule.

The response was a surge of approval via the talisman rather than words. Nangong pocketed the gadget with a little grin. His gaze fixed on the far-off shapes of Mo Yu and Zhen by the fire, their heads bent in discussion.

Enjoy your tiny secrets, he said. Neither of you will soon matter.

The fissure in the southern highlands throbbed slowly and rhythmically as the night deepened around them, a heartbeat linking present to past beckoning to something that had waited five hundred years to come back.