"This story…"Elder Mu Li's voice surfaced within Kiaria's consciousness, no longer carrying the strength of a living body, yet strangely clear, as if the memory itself was sustaining it."…is the most beautiful moment of my rise."
The words were not spoken with pride.
They were spoken with the calm acceptance of someone who had already walked through the end of his own life and was now looking back at its beginning.
Kiaria remained silent for a breath, allowing the weight behind those words to settle. He could feel it–Mu Li's soul was faint, unstable, like mist under the sun.
"You should start now," Kiaria said at last, his tone steady but firm. "Your soul won't last long."
Elder Mu Li nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth without resistance.
"Once," he began, his voice drifting into the past, "in Xuzhen Village, a land located on the northern border of our Empire, a teenage boy lost his parents during the Darul Xuzhen Festival."
