Morning light streamed through the windows of the Clear Sky Sect's main hall, scattering across the polished floor. The sound of bells echoed through the mountains, marking the beginning of another day of cultivation practice. But today, Jian Wu's steps were slow. His body still felt heavy from what had happened yesterday, that strange power, the light that had appeared from within his chest, and the voice that still whispered faintly at the edge of his thoughts.
He walked toward the training grounds where disciples were already gathered. Conversations broke out as soon as he appeared. Some were curious, others suspicious. Jian Wu could feel their eyes following him.
"Did you hear? Yesterday his sword glowed even though he has no core."
"That's impossible. Maybe the instructor helped him."
"No, I saw it myself," another disciple said, lowering his voice. "It wasn't the light of a spiritual core. It felt… different. Cold and alive."
The murmurs spread like smoke, invisible but suffocating. Jian Wu ignored them and stood at the edge of the field. His cracked wooden sword rested at his side, silent and unassuming. Yet when his fingers brushed against it, he felt that faint pulse again, the same rhythm as his heartbeat.
The instructor, Master Liang, entered the yard. His eyes swept over the disciples and stopped at Jian Wu for a brief moment. His expression was calm, but there was a trace of curiosity behind his gaze. "We will begin with spiritual focus," he announced. "Clear your minds. Breathe in the energy of the morning."
Jian Wu closed his eyes. The air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp stone. Around him, he could sense the faint hum of Qi as the other disciples began to draw energy into their bodies. For him, there was only silence, no flow, no warmth. Just that hollow emptiness inside his chest.
Then, within that silence, came the voice.
Can you hear the world now? It breathes with you.
His eyes snapped open. The ground seemed to pulse faintly under his feet. He looked around, but no one else appeared to notice. The disciples continued their breathing exercises as if nothing had changed. The whisper faded, leaving behind a strange calm.
Master Liang called for sparring practice next. Jian Wu was paired with Lin Chen, the senior disciple who had been watching him yesterday. Lin Chen was known for his sharp intuition and even sharper blade.
They bowed to each other. Lin Chen smiled faintly. "I heard interesting things about you, Jian Wu. They say you made Gu Ren's sword crack."
Jian Wu said quietly, "It was just an accident."
"Maybe," Lin Chen replied. "But let us see if accidents can happen twice."
The moment Master Liang gave the signal, Lin Chen moved like a shadow. His blade gleamed with blue spiritual light. Jian Wu barely managed to raise his sword in time to block. Sparks flew, the impact forcing him back several steps. Pain shot up his arm, but he stood firm.
Lin Chen did not stop. His attacks were precise, relentless, each strike pushing Jian Wu closer to the edge of the field. The other disciples watched in silence, their eyes wide. Jian Wu's defense was clumsy, his body slower than his opponent's, and yet, with every strike, something stirred inside him.
The silver pulse within his chest began to throb, matching the rhythm of Lin Chen's attacks. The sound of metal against wood echoed again and again. Then, suddenly, time seemed to slow. Jian Wu saw the next attack coming as if through water, the curve of the blade, the angle of the strike, the shimmer of light along its edge.
Without thinking, he stepped forward instead of retreating. His cracked wooden sword met Lin Chen's glowing steel.
A burst of silver light exploded between them.
The shockwave rippled through the courtyard, throwing both of them back. Dust filled the air. When it settled, Jian Wu was on one knee, his chest rising and falling heavily. Lin Chen stood a few meters away, his sword blade bent and smoking.
The crowd gasped. Even Master Liang's calm face shifted slightly in surprise.
Jian Wu's sword was glowing again, that same faint, breathing light, like moonlight trapped inside wood.
"Enough," Master Liang said, his voice sharp but measured. "Both of you, stop."
Lin Chen lowered his weapon, his eyes fixed on Jian Wu. "What are you?" he whispered under his breath.
Jian Wu didn't answer. He didn't have one.
After the match, Master Liang called Jian Wu aside. They stood alone under the shade of the great pine that grew beside the hall. The master's voice was calm, but his eyes studied Jian Wu with quiet intensity.
"That power you displayed… it was not Qi," Master Liang said. "Nor was it the work of any known technique in this sect."
"I don't know what it was," Jian Wu admitted. "It just happened."
Master Liang crossed his arms. "There are many paths to strength, but some paths lead only to ruin. If there is something awakening inside you, you must learn to control it, before it controls you."
Jian Wu lowered his gaze. "Yes, Master."
As he walked away, he could feel the weight of those words pressing on his shoulders. He knew the master was right. The voice inside him was not normal. The power he had shown was not something this world would understand.
That night, Jian Wu returned to the quiet pond behind the sect. The moon hung low, its reflection rippling in the dark water. He sat down on the same stone as before, his wooden sword resting across his knees.
The night was silent except for the sound of wind moving through the trees.
He closed his eyes. "Who are you?" he whispered.
For a long time, there was only silence.
Then, softly, a voice answered, neither male nor female, neither near nor far.
You are the vessel of what was lost. I am what remains.
Jian Wu's breath caught. "What does that mean?"
The voice faded, replaced by a pulse of silver light beneath his skin. The reflection on the pond shimmered, and for a heartbeat, he saw something, a faint image of himself, but different. His reflection's eyes glowed with the same silver light, and when it spoke, its lips moved in perfect unison with his.
The world took your core. I will give you something greater.
The vision vanished. The pond returned to stillness.
Jian Wu stared at the water for a long time, his expression unreadable. The moonlight danced across his face, and though the night was peaceful, a storm had begun to form quietly inside him.
He whispered to the reflection that no longer answered, "If this power truly belongs to me… then I will learn to wield it."
The wind carried his words away. The mountains stood silent.
And in the depths of the pond, a faint silver shimmer remained, pulsing once, like the echo of a heartbeat.