The sky turned heavy, grey clouds crashing like waves, trying to bury the soft white light beneath them. And in that moment, one of the strongest beings finally made a move.
Ryuxian froze, stunned. He almost raised his hand to strike—but Lynx tilted his head just slightly, and he stopped. Even so close, the gap in experience remained wide. That will never change. Lynx is still the guardian—even if he resists the world's rules. Respect remains.
Lynx spoke calmly, "His name is Mo Yu Yang Lin. Whether you like it or not—that's not my problem."
Mo Yu smirked lightly.
Ryuxian, hands on his hips, let out a frustrated sigh.
His green eyes softened as he spoke into the silence of the mountains and rivers. "You both won't grow stronger in my shadow anymore. It's time you find your own."
Lynx continued, "I already mentioned, Ryuxian—both of you are going to Wuyuan Land."
Mo Yu didn't reply. He only tightened his grip. Deep down, he knew—the deity wanted him out in the world, to challenge others, to grow. That had been his dream under Lynx's guidance. But now? Things felt different. He didn't care as much. Or maybe… he simply didn't want to leave—not this place, not the one person who felt like a father.
He opened his mouth to speak—but Lynx raised a hand, cutting him off. "No need. I can't leave this place. Someone has to hold this seat. And there's already a rumor that I'm dead, that the fallen dared to come here."
He looked between them. "You both need to grow stronger. We need power—just enough to protect this mountain, this state."
Then he turned to Ryuxian.
"I don't have authority over you. I can't tell you what to do. But I gave you my last name. You should know by now—you're weaker than Mo Yu. Even with potential, right now, he's stronger. And even if you maintain human form, you don't have the power to sustain it. How you even got this form… still a mystery."
"So think about it tonight. Tomorrow morning, both of you leave on your journey. Get yourself a space ring. Mo Yu—prepare. The road ahead is long."
The morning arrived, bringing the shift that would alter everything. The chief, young monks, and the entire town bustled with preparation. As the old monk called for supplies, the once-hidden secrets of their deity were no longer concealed.
Mo Yu and Ryuxian stood at the Holy Temple's entrance. Lynx remained behind. The portal shimmered before them.
"Serpent and the Raven," Lynx's voice echoed.
Mo Yu didn't flinch, but Ryuxian froze. His steps faltered, and he let out a soft sigh. Mo Yu shot him a mildly annoyed glance before turning away.
Ryuxian caught Mo Yu's mocking glance, but he wasn't sure where he belonged—unsure of what was expected, since he'd never truly belonged here.
"I'm opening the teleport," Lynx continued. "You both have your personal space rings, right?"
They nodded in silence.
"Good. Listen carefully," Lynx's voice seemed to descend from the sky itself. "The space you'll travel to is called the Sea of Lost Clouds—a place where time flows strangely. Cultivators can easily lose themselves here, lose their names if they're not careful. With my protection, you'll reach safely. But hide your identities. Serpent and Raven. Not until you're strong enough to rival the sector's strongest disciples. If anything happens, don't hold back. Focus on becoming strong. That's your goal."
A veil of soft blue light formed before them. The atmosphere shifted; the cold wind reversed direction. Children from the temple squealed in excitement when they saw Ryuxian. He raised a hand to wave. One child, eyes like glowing stars, shouted, "When you come back, I'll be stronger than you!" Ryuxian waved again, and together, they stepped through the portal.
"Walk not as warriors—but as echoes seeking themselves. The mountain remembers those who bleed in silence."
Mo Yu glanced back once, but Ryuxian—narrow-eyed, barely hiding his irritation—stole a glance at Lynx's back.
Time surged around them, strange magnetic currents twisting reality. They neither spoke nor looked at each other. When they finally emerged on the other side—into Wuyuan—their presence immediately drew the attention of an ancient, long-dead soul. Something about the two stirred interest, a strange, ancient surge in such young bodies.
Silently, it shifted their path, luring them into an ancient, dark expanse far from Wuyuan's gates. Instead of bustling sect grounds, they approached a small, distant village, long forgotten.
The village was broken. Shattered. Houses leaned like tired bones. No voices. No footsteps. Just rain—thick, heavy drops pounding cracked earth and rooftops in a dull rhythm. Though it wasn't evening yet, the gloom made it feel like night.
They stumbled into a building the size of a tavern—or at least, it looked like one. Somehow, without intending to, their feet crossed the threshold into a temple.
For the first time, the ever-calm Mo Yu froze.
His eyes locked onto a statue—a worn, ancient sculpture of a divine figure, far too kind, too majestic, almost… familiar. It couldn't be Lynx. And yet, it felt like him.
The village lay in ruins, untouched for centuries. Yet the pilgrim statue remained pristine. No cracks. No dust. As if time itself avoided it.
Mo Yu shivered but said nothing.
They waited in silence until the rain stopped. Ryuxian stepped outside to gather dry branches and leaves; Mo Yu stayed by the temple entrance, lost in thought. Perhaps Lynx was the only god he'd ever truly known.
Ryuxian returned, lighting a fire. The faint crackle grounded them.
The next day, they left the temple behind. Their destination remained Wuyuan's entrance gate—but the path twisted unnaturally. Ryuxian frowned. Something felt off.
They tried different directions, searching for signs, but the air grew heavier. Each step seemed futile.
Ryuxian attempted to read the fate threads—his usual navigation method—but none appeared. No threads. No signs. It was as if the place had been cut off from fate.
The sky dimmed unnaturally. No stars. No moons. Darkness swallowed the horizon.
At the edge of ancient ruins, Ryuxian's eyes lit up—he loved fossils, bones, and bizarre human structures.
As he moved through overgrown debris, something crawled up his leg.
"Shit—scorpions! The one thing I hate about ruins!" he cursed, kicking it off.
Mo Yu had already walked far ahead.
"I'll catch up! Wait for me, you damn bug!" Ryuxian yelled.
When he stepped forward again, the forest had turned pitch black. No birds. No wind. Just silence. Not even insects dared hum. The world seemed to hold its breath.
He teleported to catch up with Mo Yu—it looked like a ghost's walk to any observer.
At the heart of the ruins, twisted vines crawled up shattered stone walls. Strange bioluminescent plants glowed faintly green, casting shadows on ancient carvings.
Ryuxian absorbed every detail, eyes wide. He called to Nyx, his companion spirit.
"Hey… what's up with those drawings? That guy playing with stardust… and that throne?"
Nyx stayed silent.
Ryuxian groaned. "Serpent code's useless anyway. Even you don't wanna talk now, huh?"
Even Mo Yu—usually smug—looked tense. He finally muttered quietly, "Tch. You think you're ready for this place?"
Ryuxian didn't answer. He walked ahead, unbothered.
Mo Yu stared a moment longer, then muttered under his breath, "You really are like him…"
Ryuxian's voice echoed in the cave—Lynx's words before they departed:
"Walk not as warriors—but as echoes seeking themselves. The mountain remembers those who bleed in silence."