Path of the Forgotten.

The air was still.

Snow had begun falling at the base of the mountain — a strange thing, so early in the season. But it didn't melt. It lingered on rooftops, gathering like dust in forgotten corners. And atop a high balcony, overlooking the outer disciple grounds, Lan Xueyin watched.

Not hidden.

But untouchable — like a dream glimpsed across time. She had changed her robes. No longer the plain silver-white of the outer sect, but layered silks of soft dusk-blue — the color of a sky moments before nightfall.

---

Below – The Stone Courtyard

Lin Feng moved through his morning drills. Not grand. Not flashy.

Simple, brutal strikes — palms, elbows, low stances, each blow sinking into the stone with dull crunches. His knuckles bled. His chest was still wrapped in faded bandages but he didn't stop.

And above him, Lan Xueyin didn't blink...until—

> "Your posture's flawed."

The voice fell like a drop of cold water on molten iron.

He froze....turned.

She was already descending the stairs. No sound. No ripple of Qi. Only the snow moved — parting around her feet.

---

She stopped six steps from him.

The courtyard cleared on its own. No one told the others to leave. They simply… did and only Lin Feng remained.

> "What do you want?" he asked quietly.

Lan Xueyin looked at him for a long time.

> "You were supposed to die in that duel," she said. "And yet you didn't."

> "Maybe I was too stubborn."

> "Stubbornness doesn't keep the heavens from splitting open."

A silence.

She stepped forward — one pace only — and extended a single jade finger.

> "Strike."

> "What?"

> "Strike me. With everything you have. If you're truly dangerous… I want to feel it."

Lin Feng stared.

> Is this a trap? A joke? A test?

But her face showed no amusement. No challenge. Only curiosity.

He lowered into stance and then moved.

A single palm strike — sharp, direct, like a blade honed on a thousand bruises. It flew toward her and stopped one inch from her chest.

She hadn't flinched. But the space between them shimmered — faintly, like moonlight on glass.

> What is that barrier…?

> Why does it feel like it's not made of Qi at all?

Lan Xueyin looked down at the frozen blow and said—

> "You held back."

> "I don't hit women."

> "Foolish," she said. "Heaven strikes all the same." She turned but paused mid-step.

> "You should be careful."

> "Of what?"

> "Not everything inside you… is yours."

---

Later – A Hill Overlooking the Arena

> "She moved early," Han Yu murmured.

His white robes fluttered in the high wind, hair loose for once — shining with faint starlight. He crouched on a rock, watching the two from afar.

> "The moon touches him," he said softly. "But he hasn't remembered yet."

> "That's fine."

He pulled a copper coin from his sleeve — old, etched with three characters long erased by time. He flipped it once. It landed on its side and did not fall.

> "Soon, brother… I'll remind you of what you were even if I must become your enemy again to do it."

---

At the Sect Hall – Elder Quarters

Whispers turned into voices.

> "Lan Xueyin has moved and Han Yu watches."

> "Lin Feng… is still growing."

Elder Seventh leaned back in the shadows, eyes closed.

> "The balance is cracking," he muttered. "And they think the storm begins with Lin Feng." He opened one eye.

> "Fools. Lin Feng isn't the storm."

> "He's what walks out of it."

---