The forest that lay beyond the Celestial Dawn Sect's walls was an ancient one, its trees gnarled and thick with the weight of centuries. No well-marked paths cut through it—only faint animal trails and old hunting tracks, half-swallowed by moss and memory.
It was here, under the green canopy and the first glimmers of dawn, that Wushen, Yiran, and Bai found themselves.
Not safe.
But at least… free.
They didn't speak at first.
Their breathing was still ragged, each step a raw echo of the battle in the Listening Court's halls. Their robes were streaked with dirt and blood, the broken music box wrapped in cloth and carried close to Wushen's chest.
Bai took point, blades sheathed but never far from her grasp.
Yiran walked beside Wushen, her presence a quiet anchor.
Only the forest spoke around them—whispering leaves, distant bird cries. The world felt almost gentle here, like it hadn't yet realized it was supposed to hunt them.
Ding! Disciples outside Sect jurisdiction.Immediate pursuit unlikely.Warning: Spiritual tracking possible within 12 hours.
Host advisory: Prepare defensive fallback or meet them at a designated safe zone.
Wushen glanced at Yiran. "Do you think… he knows?"
She smiled faintly. "Luo Feng always knows."
At Dawnmist Peak, the morning sun broke through the last shreds of mist.
Luo Feng stood at the edge of the training courtyard, staring not at the path below—but at the mountain itself.
The Ashen Gate.
A name that wasn't supposed to be spoken. A place that wasn't supposed to exist.
But he'd seen it once.
A long time ago.
Before the system had awakened in him.
Before he'd learned that teaching wasn't about power—it was about healing broken pieces and giving them new form.
Kaelen joined him quietly.
"Scouts report movement at the base of the ridge," she said. "But nothing that threatens the peak directly."
He didn't respond at first.
Then:
"Prepare the outer wards for active defense. Layered formation—silent alarms only. No aggression until I say."
Kaelen hesitated.
"You're expecting them to find us."
He looked at her, calm but resolute.
"They're not the only ones who remember the Ashen Gate."
Back in the forest, Bai led them through a narrow gully that wound between mossy rocks. Her breath formed faint puffs in the cool morning air.
"We can't stay in the open," she said. "If the Sect sends out a hunter team, they'll track by resonance. Wushen's signature is… distinct."
Wushen nodded, fingers drumming softly on the music box. "I can suppress it for a few hours—no more."
Yiran glanced around them. "We need shelter. Somewhere quiet."
They found it in an abandoned hunting outpost—little more than a circle of stones and a half-collapsed lean-to. But it was enough.
Bai set down her pack. "I'll take first watch."
Yiran guided Wushen to sit. "Rest," she said gently.
He didn't argue.
He couldn't.
As he drifted in and out of sleep, Wushen dreamed.
Of a courtyard filled with song.
Of his brother's laughter, a warm sound that once made even the Sect's cold walls feel like home.
Of the Ashen Gate—a place he'd never seen, but whose name now pulsed through his veins.
Ashen Gate.Where the Mentor fell.Where the first echo became the last.
When he woke, the sun had climbed higher.
Yiran was gone.
Bai sat nearby, eyes half-shut, but her blade lay across her lap.
"Where—?"
"She went to scout," Bai said without opening her eyes. "She'll be back soon."
Wushen swallowed.
The silence stretched.
Then he said softly, "Bai… do you ever wonder if we're doing the right thing?"
She looked at him.
Not with surprise. Not with irritation.
With a calm, steady gaze that somehow felt heavier than any weapon.
"All the time," she said. "But doubt is part of the path. If you stop asking, you stop growing."
He managed a small smile.
"Luo Feng said something similar."
"Of course he did," Bai said dryly. "He says everything like it's both an answer and a question."
Ding! Disciples' morale steady. System synergy stabilizing.Note: Wushen's spiritual resonance at 60%—recovering.
A rustle in the underbrush drew their attention.
Bai was on her feet instantly, blade drawn.
But it was Yiran.
She stepped into the clearing, eyes calm.
"I saw no patrols," she said. "But the forest is… listening. I can feel it in the formations—like echoes trapped in the earth."
Bai frowned. "That's not natural."
"No," Yiran agreed. "It's old. Older than the Sect's wards."
She looked at Wushen.
"The Ashen Gate is real."
He shivered.
"I know."
At Dawnmist Peak, Luo Feng walked the outer ring of the courtyard, his fingers tracing the carved stone where he'd once taught his first disciple.
Kaelen followed.
"You're thinking of the Ashen Gate," she said quietly.
He nodded.
"I saw it once," he murmured. "Not with my eyes—but with the system's echo. It's not a place—it's a wound. A scar on the world where something… shifted."
Kaelen's brow furrowed. "A seal?"
"No," he said. "A choice. Someone—some Mentor—tried to bind something that shouldn't have been taught. And it shattered them."
He turned to her.
"That's why the system reacts to it. Because it remembers."
Ding! System Prompt: Ashen Gate recognized as Legacy Node.Warning: Node classified as "Unstable—Tier 5"Accessing it may cause permanent changes to system functions.Host Preparedness: 78%.
Kaelen exhaled slowly.
"You're going to let them go there."
He didn't flinch.
"I'm going to let them choose. That's what it means to be a Mentor."
In the forest, as night fell, the three disciples sat around a small, shielded ember-fire.
No songs.
No laughter.
Only quiet.
Bai stared into the flames. "Tomorrow, we move. We're close enough to reach Dawnmist Peak before noon—if we push."
Yiran nodded. "And after that… we decide. Together."
Wushen looked down at the broken music box in his hands.
"It's not over," he said softly. "The second verse was only a door. The third… it's the reason the Sect buried the song in the first place."
Bai's gaze was sharp. "Then we dig it up."
Yiran reached out, taking his hand.
"Together," she said.
He looked up at her.
And for the first time since they'd fled, he didn't feel like he was running.
He felt like he was going home.