The cave's mouth stood still behind her—narrow, jagged, and dark enough to swallow sound itself.
Yun stepped out.
Her shoulders were steady. Her hands relaxed. But her eyes—just for a second—flickered with something tired.
She let out a quiet breath.
"It failed again."
No anger. No confusion. Just that.
She didn't know why.
Standing nearby, her guardian turned slightly at her voice.
Yun gave a small shake of her head.
Nothing more.
The guardian sighed.
"…You'll get it next time."
Yun didn't respond.
She sat down on a stone just outside the cave, gaze fixed ahead, not really looking at anything.
The wind moved.
Evening settled in.
No one spoke.
Then, after a moment, her guardian's voice broke the silence—soft, careful.
"…Shall I go?"
Yun didn't look at him.
He waited.
"I'll return when you're ready," he added. "Call me if you want to try again. I'll also speak with the Sect Master—see if there's any insight into what's going on."
She nodded. Once. Subtle.
He didn't say anything more.
A few moments later, she heard his steps fading into the distance.
And then she was alone.
She didn't move.
Didn't blink.
But quietly, behind her composed gaze, an image surfaced.
Yanwei.
His voice, the way he looked at her, that mix of arrogance and calm that made everything seem simple.
She missed him.
Not with desperation. Not with longing.
Just… with a quiet ache.
For a moment, she thought about reaching out. Asking for his thoughts.
But—
She didn't know where he was now.
And even if she did…
Would he still answer?
Yun lowered her gaze slightly, fingers curling over the edge of the stone.
Her mind drifted again—to the pavilion. To that moment she had hesitated.
She had wanted to test it. Her second talent.
Just once. Just to be sure.
But before she could, before she even moved, her mother's face had already surfaced in her thoughts.
Cold. Composed. Inevitable.
"You can't. They have an unknown agenda that we have to be ready for."
Yun closed her eyes.
"And so what if you have a second talent?"
"There's no way you, one of the future pillars of the sect, would give your loyalty to them, right?"
Then, after a pause—calm, quiet, perfectly placed:
"But don't worry. We'll find a way for you to get tested. A proper one. Within the sect."
Reassurance. Just enough.
Not warmth.
Not comfort.
Just control dressed as care.
Yun opened her eyes again, slowly.
The sky was fully dark now. The wind had quieted.
She sat there still, unmoving.
Between failure, silence, and the weight of other people's expectations—
She wasn't sure which felt heavier.
…
The next day, under a lazy afternoon sun, Yanwei sat cross-legged on a wooden porch, a simple meal laid out before him.
Beside him, Wuyan, his sleek black cat, perched on her haunches, tail flicking with mild amusement.
"You see the despair in her eyes? Pathetic indeed," Yanwei said, smirking.
To his surprise, Wuyan let out a low, almost human-like chuckle—a sound so unexpected it made Yanwei freeze for a second.
He blinked, then laughed.
"There! She laughed! You heard it! Not just me who gets it."
His voice grew louder, as if drunk on his own excitement.
"But now that we have it, we're ready for our next move! All that hard work paid off—let's get full today!!"
Wuyan responded by leaping up and raising a paw high into the air, as if cheering.
Yanwei whooped, slapping the table.
"That's my girl! To victory and full bellies!"
Around them, a few patrons of the inn paused mid-bite or conversation to glance their way.
Their eyes softened.
In that brief moment, memories stirred.
They remembered what it was like to be young and full of dreams.
Then, with a faint, wistful smile, they returned to their meals, their chatter resuming as if no one had been there.
The inn settled back into its quiet rhythm.
Linglong sat cross-legged in the quiet chamber, the faint glow of her cultivation aura still lingering around her like a soft halo. She had just pushed through the barrier that separated Rank 1 from Rank 2—a milestone many sought, but few truly grasped.
Her breath came steady, but her brow was furrowed in deep thought.
She reached up and gently pressed her temples, eyes squeezed shut.
Memories.
They flickered just beyond her reach.
She tried to grasp them, to pull the fragments from the shadows of her mind.
But every attempt brought with it a sharp, burning pain that radiated from her head like a storm.
Not as overwhelming as before—thankfully—but enough to make her tremble slightly.
The door creaked open.
Her aunt stepped in, her expression a mix of concern and quiet hope.
Linglong opened her eyes and offered a respectful nod.
"Can you remember a thing or two now?" her aunt asked softly, the tone familiar yet warm—like a close friend checking in.
Linglong hesitated before replying, her voice measured but tinged with frustration.
"I still couldn't. I tried after I managed the breakthrough, but every time I get close, it hurts like crazy again. Not as insane as before, but… enough."
Her aunt sighed, the sound gentle yet weighted.
"I see."
She moved closer, sitting down beside Linglong with a grace that spoke of years of experience.
"We found someone who can help you test for your second talent."
Linglong blinked, confusion knitting her brow.
"What is that?"
Her aunt smiled faintly, a secret waiting just beneath her calm exterior.
"I'll explain everything later."
She paused, her eyes meeting Linglong's with an unspoken promise.
"But you should meet him first."
Her voice lowered, adding a hint of urgency.
"After all, I have a lot of things to say to you."
Linglong's heart quickened, a mix of anticipation and unease swirling within her.
The breakthrough had opened new doors—but it had also unlocked questions she wasn't sure she was ready to face.
Yet deep down, she knew this meeting could be the key to answers long buried.
And so, despite the lingering ache in her head, she nodded.
Ready to step into the unknown.