Xiǎo Chén walked out of the Xuánxīng Cave,
Gǔ Líng's final words still echoing in his mind—
"Do not always resist.
Think instead of how to respond.
Resistance is not always the most effective path."
The sentence struck something deep within him,
a chord he could not yet name.
But before he could ponder it further,
a far more immediate problem surfaced—
He had absolutely no idea
where the Sword Hall was.
He wandered the Inner Court for quite some time,
yet found nothing.
Stone paths crisscrossed,
buildings rose in every direction,
and disciples hurried past,
each absorbed in their own tasks—
none sparing him a glance.
Just as he was about to stop someone to ask,
two Inner Court disciples approached side by side,
silver badges gleaming on their chests.
The emblem of Silver Mirror.
A thought stirred in Xiǎo Chén's heart.
He stepped forward quickly.
"Senior brothers, may I ask—"
Before he could finish,
the two disciples had already recognized him.
A mocking curl lifted their lips.
"Well, well.
Isn't this the rising star everyone's talking about?
Can't even find your way around the Inner Court,
yet dare to wander about like you own the place.
Aren't you embarrassed?"
The other snorted.
"Just as the rumors say—
a few tricks,
but still a green fledgling fresh through the gates."
Xiǎo Chén raised a brow,
a cold smile tugging at his lips.
"You Silver Mirror 'geniuses' on the Hidden Dragon List
aren't necessarily stronger than this child.
If you doubt it—
why don't you step up and try?"
The air froze instantly.
The two disciples' faces darkened,
hands twitching toward their sword hilts.
Suddenly—
a sharp sword aura burst out behind Xiǎo Chén,
followed by a crisp, icy reprimand—
"Private duels are forbidden in the Inner Court.
What do you think you're doing?
Scram."
The sword‑voice rang like thunder.
The two Silver Mirror disciples flinched,
their steps halting mid‑draw.
Though their faces twisted with resentment,
they dared not speak further
and retreated awkwardly.
The newcomer was Xuānyuán Dié.
Relief washed through Xiǎo Chén's chest.
He turned to thank her—
but the moment he looked up,
his gaze froze.
Beside Xuānyuán Dié
stood a quiet girl in white.
Her brows were delicate,
her presence gentle as early spring dew.
The instant Xiǎo Chén's eyes landed on her,
something struck his heart—
a force without shape or sound.
Fragments of buried memory
surged up violently—
moonlight,
snow,
a cliff's edge—
flashing past like lightning,
shaking his very soul.
"Th… thank you, Teacher Xuānyuán—"
His words broke off abruptly,
his gaze still fixed on the girl.
Xuānyuán Dié shot him a cold glance,
as though she had already seen through everything.
Her palm snapped out—
striking his back with a sharp crack.
Xiǎo Chén jolted,
instantly sobered.
He straightened.
"Thank you, Teacher Xuānyuán."
She did not reply.
Her eyes shifted to the girl beside her.
"You explain it yourself."
With a sweep of her sleeve,
she turned and left alone.
—
Silence fell.
Only Xiǎo Chén
and the girl in white
remained.
For a moment, even the wind fell silent.
Xiǎo Chén's throat tightened.
He finally spoke—his voice trembling despite himself.
"Even… even though I didn't find you in Língfēng City…
can you tell me… your name?"
The girl looked at him for a heartbeat.
Her lips curved, and she let out a soft laugh.
"Silly boy.
Aside from my name,
you have nothing else you want to ask?"
Heat rushed to Xiǎo Chén's cheeks.
His breath quickened,
his heartbeat stumbling out of rhythm.
Fragments of memory flickered in his mind,
yet none would stay long enough to grasp.
He stood frozen,
unable to answer.
The girl's gaze softened,
a gentle teasing glimmer in her eyes.
"My name is—Shàngguān Yǔxī.
Daughter of Shàngguān Xīyán,
Commander of the Northern Língfēng City Guard."
The instant the four words "Shàngguān Yǔxī" reached his ears,
something sealed deep within Xiǎo Chén's chest
finally aligned with the presence before him.
Unfamiliar yet familiar scenes surged like a flood—
a broken bridge,
a battlefield drenched in blood,
hands clasped tight,
a silent cry echoing through the void…
The darkness within him—
the same darkness that had nearly consumed him—
fell eerily quiet,
as though that name alone had pressed it down.
Then more fragments burst forth,
shattering their restraints,
slamming into his mind one after another.
Xiǎo Chén trembled violently.
His hands clutched his head,
yet he did not retreat.
He refused to retreat.
He wanted to see.
He wanted to remember.
He wanted to seize the silhouette buried in his memories—
until his eyes burned red.
But his mind could not withstand the onslaught.
A tearing pain ripped through his skull.
"—!"
Darkness swallowed his vision.
He collapsed completely.
As his unconscious body was hurriedly carried away,
a complicated light flickered in Yǔxī's eyes.
—
In the depths of unconsciousness,
Xiǎo Chén fell into an endless dream—
vague, yet painfully real.
The world dimmed.
His awareness was pulled into a boundless river of time.
The Inner Court vanished.
In its place—
a blurred battlefield.
Flames lit the sky.
Swords clashed.
Countless cries exploded around him.
Amid the chaos,
he saw the back of a woman
standing at the heart of fire and wind.
It was Yǔxī.
But when he focused—
her silhouette twisted.
Her hair whipped wildly,
her posture lengthened,
her brows sharpened into cold steel—
She became Lín Miǎo.
The battlefield trembled.
Her figure shifted back to Yǔxī.
Another heartbeat—
Lín Miǎo again.
Her form flickered between the two,
as though time itself were tearing apart.
A dull ache throbbed in Xiǎo Chén's chest,
yet he could not look away.
Suddenly, the woman turned.
She was Yǔxī—
and she was Lín Miǎo.
Her lips parted,
her voice ethereal,
piercing straight into his soul—
"Across all lifetimes,
I will find you again
in this endless cycle."
In that instant,
memory crashed over him like a tidal wave.
Broken images surged wildly,
faster and faster,
until they drowned his consciousness completely.
A deafening roar split the heavens.
The world shattered.
Xiǎo Chén could endure no more.
He plunged into absolute darkness.
—
Outside,
his body lay unconscious,
being rushed toward the Sword Hall.
Xiǎo Chén lay unconscious in the Sword Hall,
yet his dreams churned endlessly.
The figures of Yǔxī and Lín Miǎo intertwined within the dreamscape—
sometimes calling to him,
sometimes fading away.
Within his body, another change stirred.
The Black‑Self power he had barely suppressed earlier
was further subdued by the flood of memories he had forced himself to endure.
It no longer lashed out in full rebellion—
instead, a single strand of its strength
flowed back into him,
merging with his life‑bound Fate Mark.
Something in his chest felt as though a chain had snapped.
A new force surged forth—
and within his Fate Mark,
the Root Mark finally awakened.
Gǔ Líng arrived once more.
After examining him,
his brows furrowed.
"As expected… he's grown stronger again.
But this power…
its source is not simple.
Where does it come from?"
Unable to find an answer,
he buried the doubt deep within his heart.
—
Night fell.
Moonlight lay pale across the window.
Yǔxī slipped quietly into the room,
her steps light as falling snow.
She gazed at the sleeping Xiǎo Chén—
her eyes filled with struggle,
reluctance,
and a painful resolve she could not speak aloud.
She meant to place a folded letter beside his pillow.
But as she turned to leave,
a faint whisper brushed her ear.
"…Yǔxī."
Xiǎo Chén's eyes snapped open.
Dark pupils still clouded with dream‑mist,
yet fixed on her with absolute certainty.
"You're leaving… aren't you?"
Yǔxī froze.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
Xiǎo Chén pushed himself upright,
his gaze burning with determination.
"Then where should I find you?
Língfēng City?"
Yǔxī remained silent for a long time
before finally speaking—
her voice low,
laced with restrained pain.
"Xiǎo Chén…
with your current strength,
you cannot reach me safely.
At the very least,
you must reach Root Mark Completion.
Otherwise…
you will die."
The words struck him hard—
but not a trace of retreat appeared in his eyes.
Instead, his resolve blazed even brighter.
"Two years…
No matter what lies ahead,
I will come.
And I won't stop at Root Mark Completion—
I'll reach the Sense Mark."
The vow carved itself into the night.
Yǔxī's heart trembled.
A flicker of emotion crossed her eyes.
She looked at him—
and in that instant,
something like fate settled into place.
"I'll wait for you.
No matter how many lifetimes it takes."
With those words,
she turned,
her robes sweeping through the moonlight,
and vanished into the night.
Only Xiǎo Chén remained,
sitting alone at the bedside,
fists clenched,
letting the ache and longing in his chest
rise and fall without end.
—
At dawn,
Xuānyuán Dié summoned Xiǎo Chén outside the Sword Hall.
"Yǔxī has left," she said calmly.
Xiǎo Chén paused—
then nodded.
"I know."
He remembered clearly
what Yǔxī had promised him
in the moment between dream and waking.
After a brief silence,
he lifted his gaze.
"Teacher…
Yǔxī has always been by your side.
What is your relationship?"
Xuānyuán Dié looked at him,
her expression as cold as ever,
yet without concealment.
"She is my niece."
Xiǎo Chén blinked—
and for a moment,
the memory of Yǔxī's smile
brought an unexpected sense of closeness
and disorientation.
Xiǎo Chén clenched his jaw,
yet still forced the question out.
"Her family… in Língfēng City—what is their status?"
Xuānyuán Dié stood with her hands behind her back,
answering plainly—
"Her father, Shàngguān Xīyán,
is the Commander of Língfēng City's Guard.
Yǔxī inherited the Shàngguān family's temperament—
resolute, disciplined.
Her coming here was no coincidence.
Xīyán arranged it deliberately,
hoping she would broaden her horizons."
A tremor ran through Xiǎo Chén's heart.
He couldn't stop himself from asking—
"Then… does she already…?"
Xuānyuán Dié cut him off, voice cool.
"Yes.
She has a marriage contract.
Her fiancé is the young heir of the Northern City Lord's lineage."
The words fell like a stone into still water—
and the air froze.
"I hadn't intended to tell you.
I feared it would unsettle your heart."
Xiǎo Chén stood rooted in place.
A thunderous roar filled his mind.
The image from last night's dream—
Yǔxī and Lín Miǎo's silhouettes overlapping—
flashed violently before his eyes.
The ache in his chest surged,
twisting with something deeper,
something he could not name.
Seeing his silence,
Xuānyuán Dié's tone softened slightly.
"However…
Yǔxī has always had her own will.
Whether she will obey that marriage contract—
even I cannot say."
Xiǎo Chén stood there for a long moment,
breath unsteady.
Finally, he asked in a low voice—
"The one… engaged to her—
who is he?
How strong is he?"
Xuānyuán Dié's expression chilled.
"The young heir of the Northern City Lord's line.
His name is Hán Xiāo.
His talent is exceptional.
He has already reached Root Mark Completion,
and stepped into the early stage of the Sense Mark Realm.
He is not on the Hidden Dragon List,
but his combat strength is said to rival
those ranked within the top fifty."
A shock rippled through Xiǎo Chén's heart.
His fingers tightened unconsciously.
That realm—
was still impossibly far from where he stood.
Xuānyuán Dié watched him quietly.
"Xiǎo Chén, understand this—
an opponent like that
cannot be caught up to in a short time."
But Xiǎo Chén lifted his head,
and in his eyes burned a resolve
sharper than any blade.
"Precisely because of that—
I must catch up."
—
That night,
the moonlight was pale as water.
Xiǎo Chén sat alone in the courtyard,
letting the breeze brush past.
Yǔxī's departing silhouette
replayed again and again in his mind.
His fist tightened.
The two‑year promise
was no longer merely a vow.
It had become
the reason he lived,
the reason he grew,
the reason he would keep walking forward.