The forest no longer felt like home.
Meiyin ran. Branches snagged at her sleeves, brambles tore at her legs, and wind howled past her ears like voices trying to catch up. The basket on her back bounced and clattered, nearly empty now—useless. Her lungs burned, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.
The boy. He was the only one left. Maybe the only person who knew anything.
When she finally reached the grove, she nearly collapsed in relief. The fire had burned down to faint embers, casting dull orange light over the roots and stones. He hadn't moved.
She dropped to her knees beside him.
"You—" Her voice broke. She couldn't say it. Not yet. "Are you awake?"
His eyelids twitched. Then opened.
Those strange ember eyes found hers again, heavy with fever and something else. Something older.
"You came back," he murmured.
"They're dead," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Everyone. My whole village. Someone—someone slaughtered them."
Silence.
The wind held its breath.
"…I know," he said.
The words hit her like a hammer to the chest. She stared at him, waiting for him to deny it, to say she misunderstood. But he didn't.
"You knew?" she choked out. "You knew, and you didn't stop it?!"
"I couldn't," he whispered. "I was already dying when they came."
Her hands clenched into fists. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I helped you. I left them to care for you! And now they're gone!"
He said nothing.
She wanted to scream. Hit him. Anything to dull the pain curling inside her like a blade. But instead, she stared at him and saw it: the way his hands trembled, the blood seeping through bandages she'd wrapped hours ago. He'd been fighting death while death passed him by to visit her home instead.
And now, there was no one left to blame.
She screamed.
A raw, gut-wrenching sound tore from her throat. She slammed her fists against the earth. Screamed again, until her voice cracked and her vision blurred.
"Why?!" she sobbed. "Why would they do this? Why would the heavens let this happen?!"
She cursed them.
Cursed the skies that stayed silent while blood soaked the soil of her home. Cursed whatever gods had turned their faces away. Cursed the strangers who stole everything from her.
Her body trembled with grief. She bent over and screamed again, her cries echoing through the empty forest.
And still, she didn't let go of him.
She looked at the boy, tears streaking her dirt-smeared face. "You're not dying here," she whispered fiercely. "Not after what I've lost. I won't let you die."
He tried to speak, but she silenced him.
"I don't care if you're some mystery from beyond the stars," she snapped. "You're going to live. Even if I have to give up the last of myself to keep you breathing."
The only question she could ask was Why?
"Who are you?" she asked again, quieter this time.
"I don't remember."
"But you know things. You warned me about the village. You said you felt it."
He blinked slowly. "Not everything is clear.My memories are all scrambled.And not everything needs memory to be known. Some things… are instinct."
Meiyin sat back on her heels, heart pounding. "Then explain. Help me understand."
He closed his eyes. For a moment, she thought he had passed out again. Then:
"There are two kinds of people in this world, girl. Those who walk the mortal path, and those who step beyond it."
"…What?"
"You've never heard of cultivation?"
She shook her head. "I know herbs. Healing. Prayer. That's all."
A long silence. Then a faint, bitter laugh escaped him. "Then your world is smaller than I thought."
She bristled. "It was enough. Until today."
He turned his head to look at her fully. "Then I'll tell you what I can. What I remember."
Meiyin nodded, pulling her shawl tighter. The mountain night was deepening. Stars peeked through the canopy above.
"In the beginning," the boy began, voice slow and gravelly, "the heavens gave mortals three gifts: body, breath, and spirit. Most people use them to live, eat, farm, marry, die. But a few… learned how to sharpen those gifts. To refine the breath into power. To feed the spirit until it rose beyond its cage of flesh."
He paused, grimacing in pain. She offered him water from her gourd. He drank, then continued.
" A path of ascension. Strength beyond reason. Sight beyond distance. Healing that defies death. They call it the Dao."
"The Dao," she echoed, frowning.
"Those who walk it are called cultivators. But it's not just about strength. There are levels—stages. Barriers. Each one harder than the last."
"Tell me," she said softly. "All of them."
He looked up at the sky, as if searching for the names there.
"Body Refinement. Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. Nascent Soul. Spirit Severing. Soul Ascension. And higher still… realms that words don't reach."
She stared at him. "You say that like you've seen them."
"Maybe I have," he whispered. "Maybe I haven't."
Meiyin felt the night press closer. The wind stirred again, rustling through plum branches.
"And there are factions," he added. "Sects. Clans. Kingdoms built on cultivation. Some aligned with the heavens… some with darker forces."
"Heavenly and demonic?" she guessed.
He nodded. "A war as old as time."
She drew her knees to her chest. "And Yunping? My village… we weren't part of that world."
"Maybe not directly," he said. "But no place is ever truly untouched."
Meiyin sat in silence for a long time. Her thoughts whirled like storm winds: levels, cultivators, war, sects. None of it made sense. And yet… it explained something. The boy's strange eyes. The feeling she'd had sometimes in the woods, like the trees were watching. The way her hands sometimes knew how to heal faster than she'd learned.
Her chest ached.
"You said you don't really remember your name," she murmured. "Then… what should I call you?"
He was quiet for a moment.
Then, "Jihan. I think that was it. Or close enough."
She nodded. "Jihan, then."
His eyes fluttered shut. Sleep pulled at him again, slow and relentless.
"You should rest," she whispered.
Jihan slowly fell into a deep sleep. She sat by his side.
Meiyin sensed an unnatural shift in air.An unnatural stillness fell over the grove. She looked up, and her breath caught.
In the trees, three feet away from them,shadows moved.
Not the wind.
Figures.
She shot to her feet, heart hammering.
"Jihan," she hissed. "We're not alone."
He groaned faintly. "They found us…"
Meiyin didn't ask who. She grabbed a branch from the fire's edge, still glowing, and held it like a weapon.
Three shapes emerged from the shadows. Cloaked. Masked. Blades drawn.
They didn't speak.
But they moved like water—silent, lethal.
Meiyin stepped in front of Jihan, though her hands trembled.
"I don't know who you are," she said, voice shaking. "But you won't hurt him."
One of the figures tilted its head, curious.
"She doesn't even have a spark," a low voice murmured from behind the mask. "Just a mortal girl."
"Leave her," said another. "We only want the boy."
"No!" she shouted. "You can't—!"
They moved.
She swung the burning branch wildly. The flame hissed through the air. One assassin dodged, another struck the branch aside, sending it flying.
A third moved toward Jihan—
And then the world shifted.
A hum, low and deep, resonated from the boy's body. Not a sound—a feeling. Like thunder trapped beneath the earth.
The assassins staggered. One cried out, clutching their head.
Then, just as quickly, it faded.
Jihan lay still. But the air around him shimmered faintly, like heat over stone.
"…He's awake," one of the masked figures hissed.
"Too late," another growled. "Kill him now!"
They raised their blades.
Meiyin didn't think. She flung herself forward—not to fight, but to shield him.
She had no chance.
A blade slashed through the air—and plunged into her side.
Pain exploded through her.
She screamed, staggering back. Blood soaked her tunic, warm and fast. She collapsed onto her knees, vision blurry.
Jihan's eyes widened. Though weak beyond measure, he was awake. His hand twitched, trying to reach for her, but his strength failed him.
"Stay with me," he urged through gritted teeth. "Don't you dare close those eyes."
The assassins advanced, but before they could strike again—
A sharp whistle pierced the night air.
Suddenly, figures appeared, moving swiftly from the shadows.
A woman stepped forward, her blade flashing in the moonlight. Her robes bore a delicate lotus symbol—a mark of the Lotus Sect.
"Enough!" she commanded, voice ringing clear and fierce. "By order of the Lotus Sect, you will not take this child."
The assassins faltered, then snarled and lunged. Steel clashed. Sparks flew.
The woman fought with fluid grace, cutting down one attacker after another. Another figure arrived, staff glowing softly with pale light, weaving protection around Meiyin and Jihan.
Breathing heavily, the woman knelt beside Meiyin, placing a steady hand over the bleeding wound.
"You're hurt badly," she said calmly, eyes sharp and assessing.
Meiyin's lips trembled but she shook her head. "I'm fine. Save him."
The woman glanced toward Jihan, who was pale but conscious, his breaths shallow but steady.
Jihan's eyes locked with hers, pleading.
"Save her," he urged the woman quietly. "She saved me."
That was the last thing he said before passing out.
Still dazed,Meiyin coughed,her lips still sticky with "Who are you?"
"We are cultivators," said the second. "From the Heavenly Lotus Sect"."We followed the signal. Our Young Master…" she glanced at Jihan, "...unleashed something. We tracked it."
Meiyin blinked. "Then you're not after him?"
The first woman smiled faintly. "No. We're trying to keep him alive."
Meiyin finally let herself exhale.
"I'll take care of the young master," she said firmly. "Help the girl
."
The other guards arrived, their uniforms marked with the same lotus emblem. They moved swiftly, tending to wounds, securing the area.
They weren't in danger anymore.
But the world had just become far more dangerous than she'd ever imagined.