One step from the robed figure created ripples, but no sound. Even the rustling of leaves where there should have been wind was silent.
"What do you mean… a shadow of the world that has passed?"
Li Yuan asked softly, his eyes clear yet deep.
The figure did not answer right away. He simply lifted his right hand and pointed toward the surface of the lake.
Li Yuan turned.
The once-still water began to form something.
A face.
His own face.
But that face… looked at him with anger.
Its lips were closed, but its eyes were filled with doubt.
"That shadow," said the figure,
"is the part of you that believes truth must be proven to the world, not to yourself."
Li Yuan stared at the reflection.
But it did not mimic his movements.
He raised a hand the reflection did not.
He took a breath the reflection continued staring.
"That is not me."
"It is you… the part you left behind, but never understood."
Li Yuan was silent for a moment. Slowly, he lowered his hand and closed his eyes.
Then he spoke:
"If that is the version of me that could not follow my understanding, then I do not need to fight it.
I only need… to forgive it."
The ripples on the lake subsided.
The reflection began to fade.
Then disappeared as though it had never existed.
The robed figure stood in silence once more.
"You are different," he said quietly.
"Many try to fight their shadow. Few understand that they must embrace it."
Li Yuan opened his eyes.
"Because understanding… is not about who is right.
It's about what you have learned from your own flaws and darkness."
The figure bowed slightly, as if offering a parting gesture.
"We will meet again, if you continue on this path.
But remember… this meeting was only possible because you did not close the door to imperfection."
He turned.
One step.
Two steps.
Then vanished into the lake's mist.
Night began to fall.
And Li Yuan sat once more on the flat stone.
The lake was calm again. But not just the lake—his heart, too.
A new understanding was born that night:
To accept the parts of yourself that are still incomplete is not weakness—
but the first strength on the path to awakening.
After the encounter with the mysterious figure at the lake's edge, morning arrived without a sound. Mist still blanketed the water's surface, as if reluctant to leave. The wind whispered little, and the leaves swayed gently, barely moving.
Li Yuan sat on the flat stone, not far from where he had stood the night before. The figure in the black robe had gone, yet his presence lingered like a shadow pressed into the heart.
He slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight had not yet fully pierced the mist, but the world had begun to stir.
"Why did he appear?"
"And why leave with just one sentence, without explanation?"
Li Yuan repeated the words silently in his mind:
"You are not ready to fall."
The sentence weighed heavier than any sound. As if it wasn't about the body—but about consciousness, and a descent into depths he had never touched before.
He understood—it wasn't a threat.
It was a warning.
He stood, facing the lake. His face remained calm, but something in his eyes had shifted. As if one breath from the night before had peeled away a thin layer that once covered his heart.
"I am not ready," he whispered.
"But if understanding comes from falling… then I will learn how to fall."
His first step that morning was not merely the continuation of a journey.
It was toward a kind of understanding he had never sought—and perhaps could no longer avoid.
He walked away from the lake, alone.
Without Lao Weng. Without Rei Jie.
They had gone their own ways.
Now, it was only Li Yuan—and the path that was his alone.
It had been three months since Li Yuan left that quiet village. His steps had taken him through dense forests, silent valleys, and narrow paths touched only by time and the wind. He never truly knew where his journey was headed, but he never stopped walking.
Each night, he meditated beneath the open sky. And each morning, he walked again without burden, without plan.
Today, the sky wore a somber shade. Grey clouds hung low, and the scent of wet earth filled the air. The road had turned to mud, and the wind carried the sound of dry leaves being blown along.
"Three months… and I haven't found another village,"
Li Yuan murmured softly, his voice nearly drowned by the gusting wind.
"Where is this leading me?"
He wasn't asking anyone. The question was for himself, or perhaps for the world. But there was no answer and he wasn't seeking one.
In the distance, the silhouette of a hill appeared, shrouded in mist at its peak. His steps remained light, but Li Yuan's eyes had deepened as though the journey had worn away something within him, leaving only pure awareness.
He did not feel lost.
But neither did he feel on any certain path.
The world before him was like a blank page, waiting to be filled with new understanding.
A bird flew overhead, its cry sharp as it cut through the air. Li Yuan glanced upward for a moment, then looked down again and continued walking.
This road may lead nowhere.
Or perhaps… it leads to a place that cannot be seen with ordinary eyes.