Chapter 23 — Echoes of the World Above

The celestial gate shimmered as if breathing, its ancient runes pulsing with deep golden light. Wang Lin stood before it, the remnants of his inner battle still stirring within his soul. He could feel the Abduction Path quieter now—not dormant, but... settled, as if acknowledging a truth long denied.

Lian Hua approached first. "Do you feel that? Time… it's strange here. Stretched thin."

Jin Tao tapped the edge of the gate with his dagger. "My sense of time's been messed up since we entered, but now I'm starting to feel old. And I'm still in my prime!"

Vaen moved closer, her eyes glowing faintly with starlight. "This gate doesn't just mark an exit. It marks a transition. What waits on the other side will not be the same world you left behind."

Wang Lin placed his hand on the gate.

The Abduction Path pulsed once.

The runes flared, and the gate opened with a sound like shattering crystal and howling wind.

Light poured in—not sunlight, but a silvery glow like moonlight distilled into energy. One by one, they stepped through.

And emerged… into silence.

The sky was twilight, unnaturally still. The grass had withered into a brittle gray, and in the distance, they saw stone cities where spirit beasts once roamed freely now frozen like statues.

Lian Hua's voice was a breath. "This… is the Southern Realm?"

Jin Tao looked around, unease growing in his eyes. "We were only inside for a day. Two, maybe."

Vaen's voice was grave. "No. We were inside the Realm of Forgotten Echoes for three years."

Wang Lin's heart dropped.

He stepped forward and closed his eyes, reaching out with spiritual sense. The spiritual veins of the land had shifted—some had died, others had been… corrupted.

Then came the scent—faint but familiar. Burnt incense, black ash, and blood.

He recognized it instantly.

> "The Temple has been here."

Just beyond the hill, rising smoke curled into the air. They raced toward it, bodies blurring with speed, and reached the ruins of what was once a powerful independent sect: the Thousand Jade Pavilion.

Now it was a field of graves and crumbled towers.

Bodies littered the scorched courtyard—cultivators, elders, disciples. Some had fallen mid-formation, others were turned to blackened husks. Strange marks were carved into stone pillars, glowing faintly with forbidden runes.

Lian Hua fell to her knees. "I trained here. I knew these people."

Jin Tao's usual banter was gone. "What in the nine hells happened…"

Wang Lin approached the largest pillar. The rune on its surface pulsed as he touched it—and flared.

A voice filled his mind. Not his own. Not the founder's.

But a message left behind.

> "To those who find this: We stood against them. We knew we would fall. They came searching for one who carries the Mark of the Thief. We protected what we could. We failed. If you are him… live. Please, live."

The voice faded.

Wang Lin's hands trembled.

Vaen stood still, her gaze focused on the horizon. "They're not just searching. They're purging. Anyone who shelters or teaches cultivation outside their control is now branded heretical. You've become more than a threat, Wang Lin."

Lian Hua stood beside him, jaw tight. "You've become a symbol."

Jin Tao unsheathed his dagger, spinning it once with a grim smile. "Guess that makes us the resistance."

Wang Lin looked at the ruined sect, the skies that had lost their color, and the world robbed of peace.

> "No," he said quietly, fire returning to his voice. "We are reclamation. We take back what they tried to steal. Knowledge. Freedom. Hope."

Above them, a raven circled—its feathers metallic, its eyes glowing red.

A Temple watcher.

Wang Lin didn't flinch.

He extended his hand.

The raven exploded into light.

No more hiding.

The world had changed while they were gone.

But so had he.