The battlefield was quiet now.
Where flames and lightning had once torn through the earth, only faint embers remained, barely flickering in the morning haze. The signs of battle were scattered across the broken terrain—cracked stone, deep scars from elemental strikes, and traces of unnatural darkness where Yinmo had unleashed the force still pulsing within his veins.
The pursuers were gone.
They had retreated, their confidence shattered, their understanding shaken.
And yet—the weight of the encounter remained.
Yinmo could feel it in the stiffness of his limbs, the residual energy humming beneath his skin. Whatever had awakened in him during that fight—it had not truly vanished. It had withdrawn, resting deep within him, waiting for its next call.
But even as he tried to understand it, another presence demanded his attention.
Lianhua sat against the remains of an ancient tree, breathing heavily. Though his wood magic had healed her injuries, she was still recovering from the sheer brutality of her escape. Her crimson and gold robes were stained, the once-elegant embroidery now marred by dried blood and dust.
Yet her molten amber gaze—though weary—remained sharp.
It was watching him.
Studying him.
Unspoken thoughts swirled behind those eyes. The weight of unasked questions pressed against the silence between them.
And Yinmo could feel them.
But he did not acknowledge them.
Instead, he took a steady breath and said, "I can't travel with you."
Lianhua's breath hitched slightly.
For a moment, she did not respond.
Then, slowly, she pushed herself upright, brushing strands of midnight-black hair from her face. "…You're leaving?" she asked, as if testing the words before fully accepting them.
Yinmo nodded. "I'm going to Foundations for All Academy."
There was a beat of silence.
Then—her entire expression shifted.
She stared at him, openly confused. Not Celestial Academy? Not the elite institution where talents like his were expected to go?
She had seen him fight. Had seen his power, even if she did not fully understand it. The way he moved, the way he reacted—it was not normal. It was not just raw skill. It was something else. Something that should have placed him among the prodigies attending Celestial Academy.
And yet—he was choosing an academy known for mediocrity?
Her lips parted slightly before closing again. She struggled to voice the obvious question.
Finally—after a long pause—she asked, "…Why?"
Yinmo did not answer.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Lianhua's intuition screamed at her.
Something was being left unsaid.
Something he was hiding.
But she did not push.
Instead, her grip tightened subtly around the silver-threaded satchel at her side, as if grounding herself in some unspoken realization.
The magic he had used—that darkness that had surged in him—it was not demonic. It had not twisted or corrupted him. But it was not normal, either.
It was refined. Controlled.
It was something she could not name.
Something she was not sure she wanted to name.
Her breath was steadier now, though her heartbeat was not. "Then this is where we part," she murmured.
Yinmo nodded once.
And in the fading morning light—he turned toward the road ahead, stepping into the unknown.
Lianhua watched him go.
She did not know who he truly was.