The arena buzzed with excitement.
Dozens of battles had passed, and yet **Zeravon's strange presence** continued to be an enigma — not because he was strong, but because **he remained unreadable**.
He now stood at the edge of the stone stage once again, his robe fluttering slightly in the wind. His expression was calm, neither tense nor relaxed.
Across from him stood a figure no one expected — not a known disciple, not someone from Cloud Vein Sect at all.
But… wearing the sect's robe.
> "Who's that?"
> "That mask... it's not a disciple, is it?"
> "Wait—did someone from another sect sneak in?"
The masked person tilted their head slightly, their presence oddly **silent**, and yet… heavy. A spiritual pressure lingered around them — not overbearing, but controlled. Mastered.
Instructor Wei stepped forward, narrowing his eyes.
> "Who are you?"
But Elder Lin raised a hand, whispering something only the instructors heard.
Instructor Wei frowned… but nodded.
> "Continue the match."
Zeravon tilted his head.
This presence… was *not unfamiliar*. Not known, but not foreign either.
As the match began, the masked figure struck first — fast. Their movement didn't follow any standard sect martial technique. Instead, it was fluid, adaptive… like water hiding a blade.
Zeravon dodged, then stepped back, barely avoiding a sweeping kick that would've shattered most disciples' ribs.
> *"They're fast…"*
But more than that — *they knew how he moved*. The masked fighter adjusted mid-attack, adapting as if they'd fought him before.
Zeravon's breathing stayed even.
He didn't attack. He didn't retreat.
He **observed**.
Until…
A sudden shift. A feint. A palm thrust that looked real — but wasn't.
Zeravon instinctively caught it, twisted, and stepped inward — closing the distance between them.
Their eyes met through the mask.
Just for a breath.
Just for a moment.
But it was enough.
A golden shimmer flickered behind the mask's slit.
Zeravon's heartbeat paused.
> *That aura…*
He stepped back. His hand trembled. Not from pain — but **from memory** trying to surface.
But before anything could return—
> "Stop the match!"
Instructor Wei raised his hand.
Everyone stared.
> "What?! Zeravon didn't even attack!"
> "Why end it?!"
But Instructor Wei's eyes weren't on Zeravon.
They were on the masked disciple… who was no longer standing.
They had vanished.
A wisp of **white mist** trailed where they once stood.
Zeravon stared at the place the figure disappeared from.
> *"That wasn't an enemy…"*
> *"That wasn't a test…"*
> *"That was a message."*
He turned away and walked off the stage.
Yueyin watched from a distance, her gaze unreadable.
---
**Later that evening – Outer Disciple Quarters**
Zeravon sat quietly, eyes closed beneath the same tree.
But inside… **he felt the ripple**.
Something had reached out to him — not to hurt, not to fight… but to remind.
> *There are others watching you, Zeravon.*
> *And not all wear their true face.*
---
**Far beyond — Hidden Cloud Sect (Upper Realm)**
In a quiet courtyard, Yueyin knelt before a glowing jade mirror.
The image showed Zeravon walking away from the arena.
> "He still doesn't remember…"
A voice answered from the mirror.
> "And when he does?"
Yueyin closed her eyes.
> "Then the true competition begins."
---