The night was still, yet the stars above Silent Thunder Sect pulsed unnaturally.
Not one, not two—but dozens—blinked in a rhythm none could explain. From outer disciples in their courtyards to inner Elders meditating atop jade terraces, all paused to glance upward.
Something unseen had begun to breathe.
And deep beneath First Peak, in a chamber forgotten by time, Feng Yinlei did not sleep—he dreamed.
But this was no ordinary dream.
He stood in a vast field of broken blades, shattered spiritual cores, and tattered robes. The sky above was cracked in half—one side bleeding fire, the other drowned in ink-black clouds.
Before him stood a figure cloaked in spiraling flame, silent and unmoving.
The figure bore his own face.
But the eyes... were not his.
They glowed with endless memory.
Yinlei tried to speak, but no sound came.
The figure stepped forward, hand outstretched.
"You are the echo," it whispered. "I am the origin."
Flames rose from the ground, forming ten seals mid-air.
Only four were broken.
The fifth pulsed. The sixth flickered. The seventh spiraled. The eighth screamed. The ninth was dark.
"You should not exist," the flame-Yinlei whispered.
"But because you do… the world must burn again."
Yinlei woke gasping, drenched in cold sweat. The cavern around him pulsed faintly. The fifth seal inside him trembled—no longer quiet, no longer waiting.
It was aware.
He rose.
And began to descend the mountain.
Above ground, Lin Yunyao stood beneath the thunder maple tree near the cliffside. Though dawn had not yet broken, she could feel the sun's hesitation just beneath the horizon—as though even the heavens were holding their breath.
She hadn't seen Yinlei in hours.
Yet she knew.
He was waking up changed.
Not stronger.
Not colder.
But closer to something she did not understand.
And perhaps never would.
Still, when she heard his footsteps behind her, she did not flinch.
"I saw your face last night," she said softly. "But not as you are. As something older."
He did not reply.
She turned to him. "Who are you remembering?"
Yinlei looked beyond her, into the sky.
And then quietly:
"Someone I never wanted to forget."
Elsewhere, Elder Shi Tianjing walked along the upper bridge of the Skyward Formation Ring, a sealed array designed to anchor all five peaks in balance.
It had only ever been activated once—long before the current Sect's founding.
He had already ordered its restoration.
"Formasi Penutup Langit," he said aloud. "It wasn't made to protect us from invasion. It was built to restrain a flame the heavens couldn't extinguish."
A junior formation master stepped forward. "But Elder, restrain what?"
Shi Tianjing didn't answer.
Because the truth was too heavy to say aloud.
Beyond the Sect's borders, The Speaker arrived at the gates of the Riverblade Clan, one of Silent Thunder's oldest allies.
Her bell rang once.
Guards stepped back in terror.
Within the grand hall, Patriarch Bai Jue rose to greet her with trembling hands.
"We received your flame-signal. What has returned?"
The Speaker said nothing at first. Then she stepped forward, voice like silk dragged across steel.
"The Sealed Flame."
"Impossible. It was buried with the Flamecaller Saints—"
"No," she said.
"It was buried inside a child who no longer remembers what he once destroyed."
She placed a sealed scroll onto the table.
"If your clan values its oaths, prepare. Because the fifth seal will not break quietly."
Atop First Peak, Yinlei sat upon a smooth, flat stone overlooking the training fields.
He could feel the Sect shifting beneath him—not physically, but energetically. The leylines beneath the mountain were veering toward him. The thunder essence in the clouds above slowed when he breathed. Even the sound of wind moved in arcs around his body instead of through it.
The world was recognizing him.
Not as a threat.
But as a memory.
One it did not ask to remember.
Suddenly, from the western ridge, a series of signals flared—jade talismans exploding mid-air.
An intruder.
But not hostile.
A messenger.
A girl in crimson robes arrived breathless, kneeling.
She handed a sealed scroll to Yinlei, avoiding eye contact.
He opened it without haste.
The words inside were few:
"We remember you.But do you remember her?"– The Silent Flame Temple
Yinlei's hand trembled for the first time.
A name surfaced from deep within his fifth seal.
Mu Qingxue.
The name burned like truth.
Like guilt.
Like love.
He did not say it aloud.
But his silence screamed it.
Lin Yunyao, watching from behind, noticed his expression shift.
And in that moment, she understood:
He doesn't want power.He wants to go back.To her.
That night, he returned to the chamber beneath the waterfall.
Alone.
He sat, crossed his legs, and let the fifth seal pulse freely.
Each throb sent memories cascading through him.
But not fully.
Just fragments.
A white ribbon in the wind.
Laughter in the middle of a burning battlefield.
A promise sealed by hand and flame.
"Wait for me," someone had said.
"Even if the stars forget."
He reached into himself.
And for the first time…
He did not resist.
The fifth seal broke.
Silently.
But with consequences far louder than thunder.
The waterfall halted.
The trees bowed.
A ripple of spiraling flame encased the entire First Peak.
And every disciple, from outer to inner, fell to one knee—whether they wanted to or not.
Some wept.
Some screamed.
Most simply trembled, unsure why.
The world had just remembered something ancient.
And now, it could not un-remember it.
In his vision, Yinlei stood at the center of a burning temple.
The stars above flickered, terrified.
Across from him stood a girl in white.
Mu Qingxue.
She did not move.
She did not smile.
But her eyes… saw him.
Truly.
Fully.
She opened her mouth.
And spoke his name.
"Lei'er."
Then she faded.
And only her warmth remained.
He awoke.
Tears on his face.
The fifth seal gone.
Its essence now fused into him.
He stood.
And felt the world breathe with him.
No longer resisting.
No longer separate.
He had become part of its memory.
And it, part of his silence.