The night wind howled across the plateau, carrying with it the whispers of the dead.
Yun Jian stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the canyon that cleaved the continent in two. This was no ordinary place—it was a scar in the land, a mark left by a divine war ages ago. And within its depths stood the Crimson Gate, a monument of impossible geometry, bleeding light like a dying star.
Beside him, Mei Lin's silver hair shimmered faintly under the twin moons.
"You're certain it's here?" Yun Jian asked, eyeing the jagged cliffs and the swirling mist below.
"I'm not here to mislead you," Mei Lin replied calmly. "The Crimson Gate is not something you find by accident. It appears only to those chosen—or cursed."
Yun Jian remained quiet. He could feel the shadows within him stir restlessly, as if even they were wary of the power sleeping beneath the canyon.
Mei Lin gestured toward the path winding down the cliffs. "Come. Time moves differently near the Gate. If we hesitate, we may lose our chance."
They descended in silence, the only sounds their footsteps crunching against gravel and the wind whispering words Yun Jian didn't want to understand. Each step closer to the Gate felt heavier. The air thickened. The light dimmed.
Finally, after what felt like hours—or perhaps minutes—they stood before the Crimson Gate.
It was massive.
It rose hundreds of meters into the air, shaped like an oval of blood-red crystal fused with blackened bone. The surface of the gate rippled like liquid, but nothing passed through. Symbols ancient and forgotten burned along its edges, glowing faintly with crimson light.
Yun Jian could feel it—an awareness behind the gate. Watching him. Judging him.
Mei Lin stepped back. "This is where I leave you."
"You're not coming?"
She shook her head. "I've already faced it once. Survived, barely. But the Gate doesn't repeat its trials. Each soul must bear its own."
Yun Jian looked at the swirling light before him. "What did it show you?"
Mei Lin's expression turned distant. "My sister. The one I couldn't save. I had to choose between letting her go… or losing myself forever."
Yun Jian didn't press further.
He turned back to the Gate. Shadows stirred around his feet, crawling up his limbs like eager companions.
He stepped forward.
As his hand touched the surface, the world exploded.
He stood in his village again. But it was not a memory. Not exactly.
Everything was too vivid. The smell of bread. The laughter of children. The feeling of sunlight on his skin.
"Yun Jian!" called a voice—warm, familiar.
He turned.
His mother stood by the door of their home, smiling.
His chest tightened. "Mother…?"
She didn't seem to notice his hesitation. "Come, help me with the stew! And don't forget to check on your sister—she's playing near the well again."
He moved slowly, unsure. Every instinct screamed at him—this was false. A trap. But… gods, how real it felt.
"Is this…" he whispered, "…what could have been?"
The Gate pulsed, unseen but felt. Would you trade the world to restore what was lost? it asked silently.
A different version of him approached. A peaceful Yun Jian. Dressed as a farmer. Eyes soft. No scars. No burden of power.
"You don't have to fight," the illusion said gently. "Stay. Be with them. Forget revenge. Forget pain."
Yun Jian shook his head. "This isn't real."
"Isn't it?" the doppelgänger smiled. "Does it matter? If your heart is whole again?"
Around him, the village glowed in twilight. His sister laughed nearby. The old neighbors waved. A perfect world.
Too perfect.
"I carry their deaths so no one else has to," Yun Jian whispered. "I won't forget them. But I can't live in a lie."
He summoned his blade.
The peaceful Yun Jian frowned. "Then we fight."
In an instant, the illusion shifted. Gone was the peaceful form. The doppelgänger transformed into a dark version of himself, eyes glowing crimson, a shadowblade crackling in his grip.
They clashed.
Steel screamed against shadow. The battlefield warped between memory and reality—his childhood home, the battlefield at Feng Zhiren, the Whispering Steppes. Blow for blow, Yun Jian fought the version of himself that had surrendered, given up, lost the will to protect.
The doppelgänger was fast—every strike filled with the weight of memories. It fought with the pain Yun Jian had buried, wielding guilt like a blade.
"You abandoned them!" it shouted.
"No," Yun Jian growled, deflecting another strike. "I carry them."
He surged forward.
Shadow Step.Night Bloom.Dimensional Slash.
One after another, Yun Jian unleashed everything he had, overwhelming the dark version of himself with pure force and will.
With a final, decisive strike, his blade tore through the illusion.
The world shattered like glass.
Yun Jian collapsed to his knees, gasping.
He was back at the foot of the Crimson Gate. Mei Lin was already there, her gaze sharp but concerned.
A crimson crystal floated in front of him, humming with power—the Third Key.
He reached out and took it. As it touched his palm, it melted into his skin, leaving behind a burning mark like wings of fire.
Mei Lin exhaled. "You survived."
"Barely," Yun Jian muttered. "That Gate… it knows."
"It always does."
He stood slowly, his body aching but stronger. More attuned. The Third Key pulsed within him like a second heartbeat.
Mei Lin turned. "We need to move."
"Where next?"
"The Fourth Key lies beyond the living. In the River of Forgotten Souls."
Yun Jian nodded. "Lead the way."
As they disappeared into the night, the Crimson Gate pulsed once more, then fell dormant—until the next soul dared to seek it.