Chapter 10 : The Silence After The Dream
For the first time in months, Zeravon awoke **without a dream**.
No falling stars.
No broken throne.
No voice whispering forgotten names.
Just… silence.
He sat up slowly in his bed at the Cloud Vein Sect's outer disciple quarters. A pale light crept through the window, touching the edge of his robe. He blinked.
> *"No dream…?"*
He touched his chest — as if expecting something to be there. But it was calm. His breathing was steady. No pain. No fear. Nothing.
> *"It's over?"*
He looked out the window. The sky looked ordinary. The trees swayed gently. Birds chirped in the distance.
For the first time since he had arrived in the sect, **it felt like the world was real**.
---
**Cloud Vein Sect – Morning Bell Rings**
Zeravon stepped out into the courtyard just as the morning gong echoed. Other disciples hurried around, many chatting excitedly.
> "Have you heard?"
> "The combat competition starts soon!"
> "Outer disciples can finally prove themselves!"
Zeravon tilted his head.
> *"Competition?"*
A few disciples glanced at him as he passed, whispering.
> "That's the quiet one… never seen him fight."
> "He won't last a single round."
> "Probably here just to make up the numbers."
Zeravon ignored them. Not out of pride — but because **none of it mattered to him yet**.
He was still trying to understand this world. Its rules. Its pace.
---
**Instructor Wei's Hall**
"All outer disciples are expected to attend the annual test," Instructor Wei announced. "This is your chance to show growth. To earn promotion. Or to leave."
He scanned the room, stopping for a moment on Zeravon.
> "Even those with no prior ranking will participate."
Zeravon nodded faintly.
He didn't care for competition.
But he needed **experience** — to understand the Dao paths, Qi flows, techniques. He had no memories. No power. Just instinct.
And maybe… this was where he'd find something.
---
**Later — Personal Practice Grounds**
Zeravon stood in front of a worn wooden training post. Around him, other disciples sparred using techniques passed down from instructors.
He watched them closely — studying how Qi moved from breath to fist, from feet to ground.
He mimicked them.
At first, clumsy.
Then smoother.
Not perfect — but close enough to feel *real*.
He didn't know it, but every motion he made was unconsciously **precise**. Not flashy, not powerful — just **fundamentally flawless**.
But no one noticed. Not yet.
---
**Night Falls — Outer Disciple Courtyard**
Zeravon sat beneath a lone tree, gazing up at the moon.
No dreams disturbed him.
No voices whispered.
Only the rustling of leaves and his own heartbeat.
> "This world…"
> "I don't belong here."
> "And yet, I must walk it."
He didn't know why.
He didn't know who he truly was.
But for now, **he would live like any other cultivator**.
He would eat, train, bleed, and fall.
And maybe… rise again.
---
**Far Away — Realm Unseen**
A golden scroll lay dormant in a hidden corner of reality. It pulsed once. Faintly.
But no one opened it.
No one noticed.
Because **the name inside** had not yet awakened.
And the heavens, for now, were content to sleep.
---