The night was still- still. Rain whispered against the window panes, steady and cold, each droplet a soft drumbeat against the silence. Somewhere beyond, water dripped onto concrete in a slow, endless rhythm. Wind screamed through the alleyways like a wounded spirit, and thunder grumbled low across the sky, stirring something ancient in the dark.
In the heart of it all, a single light flickered in an abandoned building.
A young man, barely in his forties, sat alone. He moved with quiet precision, pouring fragrant Jasmine Pearls green tea into two porcelain cups. Steam curled upward like incense smoke, dancing in the lamplight—graceful, silent, sacred.
Then came the sound he'd been waiting for: the faint rustle of beads brushing aside.
I stepped through the threshold.
The air inside was heavy, thick with incense and the weight of unspoken things. One hand gripped my sword, its blade still humming with the heat of battle. The other pushed aside the beaded curtain, which clinked softly—like tiny bones colliding in the breeze.
My white hair, tipped in blood-red, hung in tangled strands, soaked with sweat, ash, and war. I looked like death walking, and I felt worse.
Across the room, cloaked in shadow, stood a figure. Still. Watchful. Familiar.
Master Yu.
His silhouette hadn't changed, but something inside him had. His presence felt… off. As if his body were there, but his soul stood somewhere far away, watching us both. His eyes locked onto mine—cold, sharp, emotionless. Not just a stare, but a scalpel, peeling away the layers of who I was.
"Master Yu?" I managed, voice cracked and worn raw from hours of shouting over battle and blood.
He said nothing. Not even a twitch. Just that dead-eyed glare, unflinching, unbearable.
I wasn't sure if he was looking at me… or through me. But I could feel the judgment. The weight. The blood on my robes had long since dried, clinging to me like guilt. My breath came in shallow rasps, each one scraping against broken ribs and a bruised soul.
Then—his mouth moved.
A slow, deliberate curl of the lips, like a mask settling into place. The kind of smile that didn't belong to any living man.
"Welcome home, Gui Ming," he said, voice like oil poured over the flame.
Then the world screamed.
A shrill, metallic ring tore through my ears—violent, disorienting. My vision shattered like glass struck by a hammer. My knees gave out. The chamber twisted, darkened, and fell away into nothingness.
And in the void… voices.
One voice, small and distant. Childlike. Terrified.
"Start again… start again… start again…"
Until even the echoes died, and all that remained was silence.