The days that followed the correction of the natural formation were strangely monotonous.
The caravan advanced along the old road without further incident. The landscape changed gradually, tall pines giving way to arid hills and then to the plains bordering the Scarlet Domain.
The initial tension among the guards, who had expected an attack at any mont, slowly dissolved into the routine of travel.
During their passage near the border, nothing unexpected occurred, no one was sighted from the other side, and no bandit groups disturbed them.
This only confird that the anomaly from before had indeed been the cause of the disappearances.
Kyrian, however, sank into an even deeper silence in those final days.
His eyes, once always focused ahead and around, ever alert, now often drifted away, fixating instead on the palm of his right hand.
There, the mark, the silver fragnt of the erratic core, remained, carrying a residual sense of connection to sothing unknown.
His mind was a storm. Now, two inexplicable entities resided within his body.
First, the mysterious blank book, which had remained utterly quiet in his mind after destroying that shadow of hostility from the small fox, Luz.
And now, this "fragnt," a mark that whispered the direction of irregularities in the world.
He decided to ntally review the entire sequence of events.
Since the mont he chose the mission at the task pavilion. There, suddenly, he had felt a calling.
It wasn’t a command but a powerful suggestion, a subtle influence that inclined his will toward that path.
But the strangest part was this, Kyrian could feel it, and if he focused his eyes enough, he sensed that he could have cut that connection if he wished.
He could have freed himself from that calling.
But he hadn’t.
Curiosity was a poison to all. And for Kyrian, it was no different. He needed to understand what it was when he felt the connection.
Was soone wanting him to do this? Soone pulling his strings?
The feeling of having been chosen for sothing was undeniable, and it stirred Kyrian’s curiosity. Especially now that his main objective, becoming stronger, was montarily blocked.
At last, with an effort of will, he pushed those thoughts into a remote corner of his mind.
"Focus on the current mission. Then I’ll return to the sect and ask Feng Yuan," Kyrian thought. If there was anyone who might know sothing now, it was definitely his master.
Of whom he had heard rumors that he had already lived over a hundred years.
He was Kyrian’s best hope for an answer.
Their arrival in Gylp was anticlimactic. The capital was a bustling, noisy city, but Kyrian and Yanyu quickly completed the formalities with Lao Shen.
They received confirmation of the mission’s completion and wasted no ti with the festivities the city offered.
The need to return and seek answers was stronger.
The journey back to the Verdant Sword Sect was a silent repetition of the trip there, but now carrying the heavier weight of Kyrian’s thoughts.
During a rest under the starry sky, Yanyu broke the silence that had settled between them.
"Kyrian... thank you for saving back there, in that place."
He looked at her, the firelight flickering in her green eyes. He thought for a mont before replying.
"It’s all right. I would always save you if it was within my reach and could be done."
She blushed slightly, staring at the flas.
"Why?"
Kyrian frowned slightly, finding the question obvious.
"Because you’re the only friend I have," Kyrian said, as mories of certain people surfaced in his mind, only to be replaced by graves he himself had dug.
The smile on Yanyu’s lips didn’t fade but changed. It softened, becoming gentler and more complex.
Weighted with an emotion she couldn’t quite define herself.
Even so, she whispered
"Thank you. Again."
"No need," he said again, with his practical tone.
"Besides, you ca because I allowed it. I couldn’t let sothing happen to you. And you ca because you were worried about . All the more reason for to protect you."
"So it’s all right."
This ti, a genuine, though faint, smile lit up her face. They spent the rest of the night in comfortable silence before falling asleep.
After a few more days, the imposing peaks of the sect appeared on the horizon. A sense of familiarity returned as they felt the sharp air of the sect’s sword formation.
They passed through the outer sect’s gate, but the usual atmosphere of disciplined training and lively chatter had been replaced by palpable tension.
Outer disciples gathered in groups, whispering among themselves with serious, worried expressions.
Kyrian and Yanyu exchanged a glance before leaving their beasts in the stables and beginning the long climb toward the inner area.
They had barely set foot inside when a familiar figure rushed toward them at high speed.
It was Mo Xia. Her face, normally marked by playful curiosity when she looked at Kyrian or regal boredom, was now slightly pale and distressed.
Her violet eyes found Kyrian’s, and she moved with sudden speed, grabbing his arm tightly.
"Kyrian! You’re back! Co, quickly!" she exclaid, her voice trembling and urgent, pulling him up the stairs.
He resisted just enough to steady his footing.
"What happened? Why all this commotion?"
Mo Xia looked at him, then at Yanyu, her breathing quick and uneven.
The next words that ca from her mouth instantly explained the tension hanging over the entire sect.
"It’s Sister Long Xue..." she began, her voice faltering for an instant.
"She... she was murdered by disciples of the Scarlet Sun Sect. On a mission near the border with the Scarlet Domain."
The silence that followed was dreadful. Yanyu raised a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.
Kyrian, anwhile, showed little emotion on his face, but his eyes narrowed.
The death of a core disciple was not only a tragedy for the sect but also an act of war.
The peaceful mont between the sects might now be broken. And perhaps the monotonous peace that had ruled within the sect would soon be shattered by a new storm.
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