Cracked Pillars and Sunken Memory
The storm had passed, but its aftershocks still whispered through the bones of the desert.
Li Shen moved slowly now, each footstep deliberate. The heat returned with a vengeance, pressing down like an invisible hand. His body bore the strain of the storm's trial—minor cuts crusted with sand, bruises on his ribs, the exhaustion deep in his legs—but within him burned a sense of renewal. The Ocean Soul Blade no longer hummed like an unfamiliar spirit; it pulsed like a second heartbeat.
He descended from the ridge into a shallow basin. Cracked sandstone marked the valley floor, and strange, crystalline roots jutted from the earth like the exposed nerves of the world. Ancient pillars, sunken to half their height, dotted the area like gravestones.
A gust stirred, and something flickered in his senses—a ripple, not of wind, but of qi.
He dropped into a low stance, scanning the basin.
The Ocean Soul Temple had been destroyed over a century ago, its lineage scattered by betrayal and fire. But the energy here was too precise to be a remnant. It was a living thread—wounded, yes, but present.
He followed it, threading his awareness through the debris, feeling the qi grow more focused near a toppled obelisk half-buried in sand.
Then he heard it: a soft gasp, like a drowning man finding a breath.
Li Shen leapt over the stone, blade drawn.
What he found stopped him mid-motion.
A figure lay curled at the base of the pillar. Wrapped in faded azure robes, they were half-buried in the sand, face gaunt, eyes sunken. But their chest still rose and fell, barely. One hand was clutched around a fragment of jade etched with Ocean Soul script.
Li Shen dropped to his knees.
"You—who are you?"
The figure stirred.
"...Li...Shen…" the voice rasped. "You wear the Blade… then she chose… well."
He blinked. "You know me?"
"I am… Shu Yan. Last keeper of the Tidal Scroll. I was… sealed beneath the Reach. The quake freed me. The storm nearly buried me again…"
Li Shen frowned. The Tidal Scroll was one of the Seven Techniques of the Ocean Soul style—thought lost when the temple burned.
"Do you still possess it?"
The old man's hand twitched. "Fragmented… but yes. If you would learn it, there is a price."
Li Shen leaned in. "Name it."
"Bury the temple. Let its echoes rest. And carry its name forward—not in pride, but in humility. The sword you wield was never meant to conquer. It was meant to balance."
Li Shen nodded solemnly.
"I accept."
The Tidal Scroll
Shu Yan placed the jade fragment into Li Shen's hand.
The moment flesh touched stone, his vision blurred.
A roar of water.
A darkness deeper than night.
And then—motion.
He stood upon a cliff of coral, under an ocean that should not exist. A figure flowed across the waves with a blade, every strike a ripple that changed direction before landing. The sea answered the sword—not obeyed, but mirrored.
Each form bled into the next—countering, flowing, redirecting.
The Eighth Form: Whisper Beneath Wake.
A blade that disappears before striking, felt only after the echo.
The Ninth Form: Grasping Undertow.
A parry that becomes a pull, drawing the foe into imbalance.
The Tenth Form: Calm Before Collapse.
Stillness so absolute it absorbs force, then returns it magnified.
When the vision ended, Li Shen stood in silence, soaked in sweat, breathing like he'd fought a hundred duels.
Shu Yan smiled faintly.
"You learn fast. But remember—these forms are not weapons. They are questions. If you use them only to kill, the blade will turn on you."
Li Shen bowed deeply. "Then I will wield them with care."
Shu Yan coughed, face pale. "Go. They are coming."
Li Shen tensed. "Who?"
"Reaping Hand. They followed your storm."
And then Shu Yan slumped back, unconscious, spent by the transference.
Li Shen rose.
The storm had been the trial.
Now came the war.