The White Jade Temple stood at the heart of the village, unmoving like a single note suspended in the wind. Each year, those who reached the age of awakening were brought there to undergo the Ceremony of the First Echo, an ancient rite that revealed their Sonic Affinity: Fire, Wind, Water, Earth, Metal, Shadow, Light… and the rarest, like Void or Star.
Lián Zhen, wearing borrowed robes and sweaty palms, stepped into the ceremonial circle under the watchful eyes of the elders. A jade drum floated in the air, suspended by threads of spiritual energy.
—"Place your palm on the drum," said the ceremony master. "Do not fear the result. All paths hold value."
When the drum felt the touch of a soul, it would vibrate with a sound that revealed one's inner affinity. For some, it came in seconds. For others, minutes.
Lián Zhen waited. And the temple filled with… nothing.
No vibration. No pulse. The drum did not respond.
—"…Absolute Silence," an elder murmured, frowning.
Silence was shameful. It meant the soul could not connect with any path. That the person could not cultivate. Doomed to a mundane life.
—"I'm sorry, child. But you have been marked by the Void," the master said quietly.
He didn't argue. He didn't protest. What would be the point? His breath caught in his throat as the whispers began.
"Another dud…"
"Third one this season."
"Poor thing. His parents were farmers, weren't they?"
Ashamed, Lián Zhen walked back to his village with the dull weight of failure settled deep in his chest. He shed no tears. But inside, something trembled with force—something ancient, something that had been waiting.
That night, alone in his room, he couldn't sleep. The floor was hard. His thin blanket couldn't keep the chill from seeping into his bones. But worse than the cold was the stillness. The kind of silence that feels too deliberate. As if the world itself was holding its breath.
Then he heard it.
A dull thrum, like a distant drum. Then another. And another.
Not from outside.
From within.
He sat up, breath shallow, his pulse matching the rhythm of the sounds. They came like echoes from a long-forgotten chamber—subtle, patient, powerful. A humming beneath his skin.
And then… a shimmer in the air.
Characters formed before his eyes, glowing softly in the moonlight like burning dust:
[Anomaly Detected: Fragmented Echo Soul]
[Access to Multiple Paths: Activated]
[Initial State: Absolute Silence - Unlimited Potential]
> Path Detected: Echo of the Swift Blade (Bronze Grade)
> Copying...
> Tuning Successful.
His heartbeat raced. "Copying?" he whispered. "Tuning?"
As if in answer, a flicker of motion caught his eye. A leaf, curled and dry, floated in through the open window. It hovered, suspended unnaturally. Then—
Swshht.
The leaf split cleanly in mid-air, sliced by something unseen.
The energy didn't feel like it came from outside. It had moved through him—like a ripple in his soul.
He reached out and spoke without thinking.
—"Echo: Swift Blade."
A faint ring filled the room. A line of pressure sliced the air in front of him. The table groaned as a thin mark carved itself across the wood, precise and sharp.
He stared at his hand, mouth slightly open. His skin tingled. His ears buzzed.
Was that really me?
No scrolls. No cultivation manuals. No master. Just… resonance. Something he had heard.
He suddenly remembered the sword demonstration from earlier that morning—when one of the village's young prodigies displayed his Echo of the Swift Blade. It had stirred the crowd, striking the drum with clean, elegant sound.
Could it be… that his soul had remembered the echo?
Not just remembered. Copied it.
A second notification slid into view:
[Warning: Core Not Bound to Any Path]
[Note: Echo Compatibility exceeds 90% — retention permanent]
[Echo Storage Capacity: 1/???]
"Storage capacity?"
His hands trembled. The silence within him wasn't emptiness. It was a vessel. Others had to bind themselves to a single path, spending years refining a single frequency, deepening their resonance with one echo.
But Lián Zhen… he had no single path. No tether.
And in that formless silence, he could store any echo he heard.
The implications settled slowly.
If he walked by a Fire cultivator casting a flame strike, or watched an Earth wielder shape stone…
Could I copy that too?
His mind raced.
Would he be hunted for this?
Could others sense what he was?
Or… could he stay hidden, and use this power to quietly grow stronger?
He clenched his fist.
It was the first time in his life he had ever been given
As the night deepened, new messages surfaced, unrolling like ancient scrolls across his vision:
Echo Classifications:
- Grade: (Iron → Bronze → Silver → Gold → Spirit → Celestial)
- Type: (Offensive / Defensive / Utility / Elemental / Conceptual)
- Source Path: Fixed or Mutable
Echo Capacity: Current 1/Unknown
Path Resonance: 0% - Unbounded
Cultivation Level: Not Yet Established
Suggested Action:
>> Stabilize first Echo within Qi Sea.
>> Begin path resonance cycle.
He understood little of it. But the system—the world—was beginning to explain itself.
"Qi Sea…" he muttered. That was basic knowledge. The internal reservoir in every cultivator that stored spiritual energy. But without an echo, his had never opened.
He closed his eyes and focused. He felt a tremor—barely a ripple—deep within his dantian. Something was there now.
The Swift Blade.
A faint ringing like drawn steel echoed in his spirit.
He opened his eyes, new strength pulsing in his veins.
No longer empty.
No longer voiceless.
From outside his window, the distant sound of a bell tolled. Three times. Midnight.
But Lián Zhen didn't lie down.
Instead, he stood and walked outside into the crisp night air. The village was quiet. Smoke drifted lazily from the hearths, and the moon bathed the rooftops in silver.
He walked toward the back fields, where no one would see him. No one would judge.
He stood still, listening to the wind.
And then—
—"Echo: Swift Blade."
Swshhht.
A rock split cleanly down the middle. Then another. His control was crude, imprecise. But he didn't tire. The echo didn't weaken.
He tried again. Again.
Each time he called on it, the resonance became more familiar. More his.
And suddenly, in the darkness—
> New Echo Detected: Wind Step (Iron Grade)
> Source: Ambient Drift Signature
> Assimilate? [Y/N]
Lián Zhen froze. Wind Step? Someone nearby? No—this wasn't from a person. It was from the wind itself. Or perhaps an echo left behind by someone passing earlier.
He grinned.
"Y."
Another vibration entered his chest—cool, sharp, evasive.
He could feel it: a second echo. Lighter. Faster.
His silence could pick up resonances left behind. Not just living echoes… but lingering traces.
The world around him wasn't quiet.
It was singing.
He had simply never known how to listen.