The arena had emptied.
Night draped over Cloud Vein Sect like a heavy cloak. Torches flickered lazily across the stone paths, casting long, uncertain shadows.
Zeravon walked alone toward his quarters.
He passed groups of disciples whispering by the training fields, some eyeing him with curiosity, others with unease.
> "That masked disciple vanished… right in front of him."
> "Was it a special technique?"
> "He didn't even fight back again."
But Zeravon didn't hear them. Not truly.
Because within him, a different whisper stirred.
Not from the seal.
Not from dreams.
But from **the gap between who he was, and who he pretended to be**.
---
**Outer Quarters – Midnight**
Zeravon stood by the cracked lion fountain once more, the water now flowing gently.
He looked into it.
His reflection shimmered — **wrong**, somehow.
Not distorted. Not monstrous.
Just… **foreign**.
> *"Why do I feel like this face doesn't belong to me?"*
He closed his eyes.
But something in the reflection **kept watching him**.
---
**Elsewhere — Yueyin's Hidden Residence (Lower Realm)**
The small wooden chamber was laced with illusion arrays. No disciple could find it. No elder dared search it.
Here, Yueyin knelt by a floating scroll — the same **Upper Realm artifact** that had allowed her to monitor the arena.
She held in her palm a **crimson glass bead** — faintly pulsing.
> "The Outer Seal is weakening," she whispered.
A voice — ancient and feminine — echoed from the scroll:
> "He is not ready."
Yueyin's eyes softened.
> "Then I will protect him… until he is."
She placed the bead into a jade box — **the very item** she would soon gift Zeravon.
> *A treasure that cannot be sensed… but can change the flow of Qi within him permanently.*
---
**Next Morning – Practice Fields**
Instructor Wei stood at the training ground, observing several disciples sparring.
His gaze landed briefly on Zeravon, who now trained quietly with wooden poles — flowing through basic strikes and forms.
But something in his form had shifted.
Not power.
**Focus.**
> "He's no longer copying," Wei muttered. "He's… adapting."
Elder Lin appeared behind him, arms folded.
> "Keep an eye on him. That fight yesterday… someone from the **Veiled Moon Sect** might've snuck in."
> "Veiled Moon? That rogue sect was wiped out centuries ago."
> "Not wiped," Lin said. "Erased from history… like someone wanted them forgotten."
Wei didn't respond.
Because **deep down**, he too had begun to wonder:
> *Who really is this boy we call Zeravon?*
---
**Later That Evening — Atop the Cliff Behind the Sect**
Zeravon stood again at the edge of the Silent Drop, the wind rustling his robes.
He wasn't here for power.
He wasn't here for clarity.
He was here… because this was the only place where the **world didn't lie**.
No fake greetings. No illusions. Just a chasm that refused to speak.
He sat down.
And for the first time in days, a single line surfaced from the depths of his mind.
A name.
Not Yueyin.
Not Eternalis.
But—
> **"The Veiled One…"**
He frowned.
> "Why does that name feel… like a warning?"
Behind him, silent footsteps paused.
Yueyin.
She didn't speak.
Instead, she walked forward, placed a small jade box beside him, and sat down.
> "You'll need this… soon," she said gently.
Zeravon looked at her, confused.
> "Why?"
She met his eyes.
> "Because what's coming next… is not a competition. It's a **hunt**."
---
**Far Away — Border of the Lower Realm and Forbidden Abyss**
A shadow emerged from an ancient seal buried under the roots of a dead world.
A figure wrapped in chains of silence.
It whispered:
> "The treasure has surfaced."
> "Send the Seekers. Send the Butchers."
> "And bring me the one… who dreams no more."
---