By ArkGodZ & DaoVerse Studio
The forest was too quiet.
Yuan walked slowly, her boots barely brushing the ground, as if the earth itself asked for silence. Her breath was calm, but her senses burned. Something had shifted here. Not just Qi in the air—something deeper.
She had felt it hours ago. A pressure, like a wave of warmth and hunger passing through her skin. The Elders had felt it too, murmuring of anomalies, fluctuations in the natural flow. Some dismissed it as the death throes of a beast. Others whispered of ancient arts.
But Yuan... she followed the trail.
Through thickets and over roots, the trees grew denser. The light dimmed. The usual chirps and rustles of spirit beasts were gone, as if all living things had agreed to stay hidden. Not in fear—but in awe.
Then, the clearing opened before her like a breath.
At the center, he lay still.
Jian Yu.
His body was half-tilted against the earth, one knee folded awkwardly, arms loose, head turned toward the sky as if watching something far beyond it. Blood marked the corner of his lips. His robe was torn at the sleeves, skin bruised and dirtied, but beneath the grime, the center of his chest pulsed faintly—a soft crimson glow, like a lotus beating with his breath.
Yuan didn't move. Not yet.
She let her gaze shift around the clearing. The grass was bent outward in concentric waves. Trees curved gently inward. Insects fluttered closer to the ground, as if drawn low by something sacred. And at Jian Yu's side, blooming from untouched soil, stood a flower that should not exist:
A black lotus.
Its petals gleamed with red veins, pulsing in rhythm with the one beneath her gaze.
She felt her heart tighten.
Yuan took a slow step forward. The air changed. It was subtle—but she felt it. The trees no longer rustled randomly. They shifted in cadence. The energy of the forest wasn't natural. It was... watching.
She knelt beside him.
His face was peaceful. Too peaceful.
As if the pain was gone—not because he healed, but because he left it behind. Her hand hovered above his chest, over the glow, but didn't touch.
"You again..." she whispered, barely audible.
Her mind slipped for a moment. A flash—
Chains. A cell. A candle burning without flame. Eyes glowing crimson.
Yuan blinked hard.
Not now.
She looked around once more, eyes sharp again, and then murmured: "I found him."
A soft glimmer flared behind her—one of the communication talismans. She had activated it before entering, in case something went wrong.
But now she wasn't sure what to say.
What do I even call this?
Yuan lowered her hand again.
She hadn't touched him—not really. Just a breath away from his skin, and yet it felt like her fingers were brushing against something ancient. Something sacred… and aware.
The wind shifted.
No— it changed.
The leaves around her stirred in spirals. The grass that had once bent outward slowly curled inward now, swaying in rhythm with the subtle rise and fall of Jian Yu's chest. The very soil beneath her knees pulsed once. Once.
As if something unseen had acknowledged her presence.
Her heart raced, but not from fear.
Respect. That was the feeling that filled her chest.
She looked again at the lotus.
Still there. Still blooming. But its petals had tilted… ever so slightly… in her direction.
Was it watching her back?
A single petal detached. It floated gently, dancing in the air as if guided by unseen strings. Yuan extended her hand instinctively.
The petal brushed her palm.
And vanished.
In that instant, something opened inside her mind—like a curtain briefly pulled away from a window she didn't know existed.
A sound.
A scent.
A heartbeat.
Desire.
Then silence.
The forest calmed. The energy shifted once more, returning to something more natural. The air grew lighter. Her breathing eased.
The lotus remained, but now its light dimmed, as if satisfied.
Yuan looked at Jian Yu again, and this time, his presence no longer felt guarded.
She leaned in, her voice soft.
"I don't know what you are becoming," she whispered. "But I think… the forest has decided to let you live."
Far away...
Beyond mountains cloaked in mist and rivers that never froze, a shadow stirred.
In a chamber carved beneath an obsidian temple, where the walls pulsed with runes older than names, a man opened his eyes.
He had not moved in eighty years. Not since the Lotus War.
But now, something called him back.
He stood, slow and deliberate. Dust lifted from his robes like smoke. His aura did not flare—but the very air bowed as he breathed.
He turned toward a mirror—black, cracked, and sealed.
And without touching it, the surface rippled.
Images danced: a forest… a boy unconscious… a black lotus blooming.
A smile curved his lips. Not joy. Not malice.
Recognition.
"The cycle begins again," he whispered.
"And this time… it blooms untamed."
Jian Yu stirred.
It wasn't violent. No gasping breath. No sudden jolt. His fingers twitched, then his shoulder, then his brow furrowed—like someone slowly rising from water after floating for too long.
Yuan leaned forward, eyes locked on his face.
"Jian Yu," she whispered. "Can you hear me?"
His eyes fluttered, barely open.
"…lotus… flame…"
The words spilled out like fog.
She didn't know whether to touch him or stay still. The glow around his chest had vanished completely, but she could still feel it in the air, like a presence not fully gone.
He blinked. Slowly.
Yuan's voice came softer now. "You're safe."
He turned his head slightly toward her, his lips dry, his voice barely a breath.
"…it wasn't a dream…"
She nodded, though she wasn't sure she believed that either.
He closed his eyes again. This time not in unconsciousness—but in silence. As if retreating inward. Listening.
And then, from deep within him, he felt it:
A heartbeat that was not his own. A voice that did not speak in words. A warmth that curled behind his ribs and whispered without sound:
We are seen.
Far beyond…
A cave lost in the roots of a dying mountain. No doors. No windows. Just stone, breathless and ancient.
A single mark glowed along the wall. It had been dormant for ages—neither seal nor spell. A brand.
A name without sound.
It pulsed once.
Then, in the darkness, a figure moved.
Wrapped in gray silk robes, a mask over their face. No name, no gender. Only presence. The figure rose from a kneeling position and turned to a wall covered in faded symbols.
A voice old, calm, not theirs echoed from within the cave.
"The Desire has awakened."
The figure bowed their head.
"The Guardian must observe."
The voice paused.
"And protect, if the world forgets its mercy."
Then silence.
The figure vanished into the shadows.
He didn't know how long he had slept.
The pain was distant now—like a shadow just beyond reach. What remained was the dull ache of something incomplete. Jian Yu opened his eyes slowly, the ceiling of trees swaying above him like silent witnesses.
Yuan was there. Still beside him.
Her hand hovered near his, but not touching. The glow of concern in her eyes didn't match the steady calm on her face.
"You're awake," she said, softly.
He nodded. Barely.
There was a pause. She didn't look away, but she didn't lean in either.
"Do you… remember what happened?"
Jian Yu took a breath.
"I remember… a voice," he said. "Not yours. Not mine."
Yuan's eyes flickered.
"And the lotus?"
He hesitated. Then: "It wasn't just a flower. It… saw me."
She expected him to pull back. Instead, he stayed still.
"I think it saw me too," she said.
That silence again.
He turned his head toward her, wincing. "You stayed?"
She blinked, just once. "I wasn't going to leave you like that."
His lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
"I thought you didn't trust me."
"I don't." Her answer came too fast. Then softer: "But I think… I want to."
Jian Yu let that linger.
His voice dropped. "It's dangerous."
"I know."
"I can't control it."
"I know that too."
They stared at each other for a moment too long. And then—
Crack.
A branch snapped in the distance.
Yuan's head turned sharply. Her body tensed.
Jian Yu tried to lift himself, but his muscles protested.
"They're coming," Yuan said, almost to herself.
"From the seita?"
She nodded. "They felt the surge. Someone must have tracked it."
Jian Yu's fingers tightened in the grass.
"They can't see this," he said. "Not yet."
Yuan looked at the blackened earth, the fading glow of the crimson lotus still pulsing beneath them.
"I'll… handle it," she said.
He looked at her, unsure. "Why?"
Her voice lowered, eyes still on the trees. "I don't know. But I think… if I don't, no one else will."
Jian Yu looked up at the sky again. He wanted to speak. Ask. Confess. But the words didn't come.
So he just whispered: "Thank you."
And this time, Yuan did not look away.
The sound came again—closer now. No longer distant.
Footsteps. Controlled. Measured.
Yuan rose to her feet in a single motion, placing herself half between Jian Yu and the path that led into the clearing. Her stance wasn't aggressive—but it wasn't passive either.
Jian Yu, lying against the roots of the tree, slowly turned his head.
A figure emerged.
Gray robes with a pale silver sash. A disciple—not a high-ranking one, but not a novice either. His eyes scanned the area with trained focus, but they widened as he took in the scene:
The burned grass. The bent trees. The faint glow still lingering where the lotus had bloomed.
And Jian Yu—alive, barely upright.
The disciple frowned. "Senior Yuan… you sent the signal?"
"I did," she replied calmly.
His gaze flicked between them. "The Sect Elders felt a spiritual rupture. They thought it could've been a beast… or worse."
"It wasn't a beast."
The disciple stepped closer, his boots crunching softly over scorched earth.
"Then what was it?"
Yuan didn't answer immediately. Her fingers tightened at her side. Her voice, when it came, was smooth—but measured.
"He encountered something ancient. It overwhelmed him. I found him here."
She didn't mention the lotus. Not the whispers. Not the pulse that had tested her. Not the figure in the roots of the mountain who now watched from afar.
Jian Yu watched her say it all. He didn't speak—but his brow creased slightly. Why is she protecting me?
The disciple nodded slowly. "The Elders will want to question him."
Yuan's jaw tensed. "He's in no condition to speak."
"That's not for us to decide."
"He's still a disciple of the Pale Moon Sect. We protect our own."
The words hung in the air longer than they should have.
Jian Yu felt them press against his chest—heavy and unfamiliar. Our own.
The disciple looked between them again. His gaze lingered—just a second too long—on Yuan's expression.
He said nothing more.
"Prepare a transport," Yuan ordered, her tone regaining its usual sharpness. "He won't walk yet."
The disciple gave a slight bow. "Yes, Senior."
He turned and vanished between the trees.
Yuan remained standing for a moment longer.
Then, kneeling again, she glanced at Jian Yu.
"You don't have to thank me."
"I wasn't going to," he murmured.
But the edge of his lips curved—just a little.
She rolled her eyes.
Still, she stayed by his side.
And overhead, where the clouds had once thickened with spiritual pressure, the sky now opened into pale blue.
End of Chapter
Next Chapter: The Name Reborn