The wind in the Dawnyu Sect felt different today—softer, almost like a whispered warning.
Zhen Hu stood at the base of a large oak tree, watching the sun's early rays filter through its thick branches. The morning mist had not yet lifted fully, and he found solace in the quiet of the moment. The air, still cool and damp, pressed against his skin, and his senses tingled with awareness.
It was a sensation that had become all too familiar over the last few weeks—a sensation that something was shifting, pulling, urging him toward an inevitable reckoning. Ever since his breakthrough into the Aethonix Realm, things had felt... off. His energy had surged with every passing day, but it was more than just his cultivation that had changed.
The people around him seemed to sense it too, though none of them spoke the words aloud. Every glance held more weight, every step more calculated. It was as though a shadow had stretched itself over his life, darkening everything it touched.
The elders in the sect had become more distant, more observant. They watched him with piercing eyes, and their conversations seemed to drop to hushed tones when he passed by. But it wasn't just the elders. Even the disciples, who had once shown a modicum of respect for him, now eyed him with suspicion—or perhaps fear. They didn't know what to make of him, this strange disciple who had grown so fast, so powerful, yet remained so... enigmatic.
"Zhen Hu?"
A soft voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to find Mei Xian standing a few paces away, holding a bundle of freshly picked herbs. Her smile was gentle, but there was an undeniable hesitation in her gaze.
He offered a smile in return, trying to mask the unease that had settled in his chest. "Mei Xian, it's a pleasant morning."
She nodded, but the way her eyes darted to the side, as though searching for something, didn't escape him. "I... I've heard rumors," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "About your recent breakthrough... the elders speak of it, though not openly."
Zhen Hu's heart tightened, though his expression remained calm. "Rumors are just that," he said softly, watching her intently. "Let them speak. It matters little."
She took a step closer, her voice lower now, more fragile. "Are you... are you well? I heard you experienced a great deal of pain during the breakthrough. Some say it's a sign of something... unnatural."
Zhen Hu's eyes briefly flickered to the ground, the weight of her words lingering in the air like a heavy fog. His breakthrough had been brutal, the pain almost unbearable as he tapped into that strange power that had been building inside him. The Nytherion. It felt as though a part of his very soul had torn open, releasing forces that were both exhilarating and terrifying. But he had survived—no, thrived. And yet, Mei Xian's concern only deepened the knot in his stomach.
"I'm... fine," he said, though the words felt hollow. He wasn't entirely sure if he believed them himself. "It was difficult, but it's over."
Mei Xian didn't seem entirely convinced, but she offered a soft smile. "If you say so. But remember, Zhen Hu, not all power is meant to be embraced. Some things... should remain buried."
Her words hung between them, like a silent warning, and Zhen Hu found himself at a loss for a response. There was an earnestness in her eyes that he could not ignore. She was worried about him—about the power he was harnessing, the power he could not fully control.
But there was something else, too. An undercurrent of fear. Fear that wasn't just for him, but for everyone around him.
He nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Mei Xian. I'll keep that in mind."
She lingered for a moment longer before turning to leave, but just before she did, Zhen Hu caught sight of something—something he couldn't quite place. Her gaze flickered briefly toward the distant hill, where a small group of disciples stood watching. Their stares were cold, almost accusatory. For a fleeting second, Zhen Hu could swear he saw Mei Xian's expression falter, her usual calm demeanor replaced with something darker—something distant.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice low, almost a murmur.
Mei Xian hesitated, then shook her head. "It's nothing," she said quickly, her voice soft and forced. "I must be on my way."
With that, she turned and left, leaving Zhen Hu standing alone beneath the oak tree, his thoughts spinning.
There it was again—the sense that something was wrong. The sense that his presence was unsettling to those around him. His breakthrough, the power he had unlocked—it was all too much, too fast. And though he had tried to keep it buried within him, he knew it couldn't stay hidden forever.
The Nytherion had a life of its own. It had spoken to him more in the past few weeks, more than ever before. The whispering shadows in his mind were becoming louder, more persistent, urging him to embrace the power within, to understand it, to wield it without hesitation.
But every time he listened, a part of him recoiled.
"Why... why am I afraid?" Zhen Hu murmured aloud to no one. His breath was shallow, his pulse quickening. He clenched his fists, feeling the pulse of energy surge through his veins.
"I will break through," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "I must."
Behind him, the faint sound of a whisper—the faintest trace of his spirit guide—brushed through the air. Yes... you must... but be cautious. You walk a thin line now.
Zhen Hu turned, but the guide was nowhere to be seen. The words lingered, a soft echo in his mind.
He wasn't sure what was more terrifying—the power he was gaining or the growing sense that he was losing himself in it.
The day stretched on, and as the sun dipped lower, Zhen Hu walked toward the temple, feeling the weight of unseen eyes on his back.
Somewhere, deep within the sect, the elders were meeting, discussing the strange happenings that had begun to circle Zhen Hu's name. They knew nothing of his true power. But they were watching, just as carefully as the disciples. Just as carefully as he was watching them.
And slowly, the walls began to close in.