The moment Lian Hong crossed the threshold,the world changed.
Not suddenly.Not violently.
The sound faded first—breath, wind, heartbeat—as though the mountain swallowed noise whole.
Then the light dimmed.
Not darkness.
Absence.
A place untouched by sun, flame, or torch.
A deep corridor stretched before them,walls carved from black stone,smooth and cold like polished obsidian.
Yan Ming entered behind him,steps silent.
Su Qingyue brought up the rear,blade at her hip shimmering faintly.
Zhou Shan clung to her sleevelike a child clinging to a mother's robes.
"WHY IS IT SO DARK—WHY DOES IT SMELL LIKE ANTIQUE GHOSTS—WHY DID WE COME HERE—"
Yan Ming placed a hand on his shoulder.
"It is not ghosts."
"It is memory."
Zhou Shan fainted immediately.
Su Qingyue sighed.
1. The Corridor That Remembers
Lian Hong stepped forward.
The air shifted.
A faint echo—not sound, not hallucination—passed around him like a breeze.
Yan Ming's voice echoed softly behind him.
"This hall has a name."
Lian Hong glanced back.
"What is it?"
Yan Ming answered:
"The Hall of Forgotten Footsteps."
Su Qingyue frowned.
"…Forgotten by whom?"
Yan Ming met her gaze.
"By the world."
He looked at Lian Hong.
"But not by the mountain."
Lian Hong turned back to the corridor.
Each step he tookmade the air grow heavier.
It was not oppressive.It was watchful.
Su Qingyue's voice trembled slightly.
"Something's following us."
Yan Ming shook his head.
"No."
His eyes lowered.
"This hall does not contain enemies."
"Only remnants of choices."
Lian Hong's shadow rippled slightly.
He stopped walking.
Yan Ming spoke again, quieter:
"This place records the steps of those who walked here before."
Su Qingyue stiffened.
"Then—!"
"Yes," Yan Ming said.
"His footsteps remain."
Lian Hong exhaled.
"…The first Echo-Bearer."
A pulse ran through the stone—as if acknowledging the nameeven though none existed.
2. Footprints That Aren't Footprints
The corridor floor was smooth.Untouched.
But as Lian Hong walked deeper,something began to appear—
light impressions.
Not steps.Not literal footprints.
More like disturbances.
Places where the air thickened,as if someone had once paused there.
Yan Ming knelt, touching nothing.
But something responded to his presence—a faint shimmer.
"These marks…" Lian Hong whispered.
Yan Ming nodded.
"Yes."
"This is where he stood."
Su Qingyue swallowed.
"So the mountain remembers him."
Yan Ming corrected:
"No."
"The mountain refuses to forget him."
Zhou Shan regained consciousness.
Immediately regretted it.
"BRO THERE'S INVISIBLE FOOTSTEP ENERGY—NO—NO—NO—"
Lian Hong walked past him.
The marks kept appearing.
Some close together.Some far apart.Some clustered tightlyas if someone had stood still for a long time.
He paused at one of them.
Here—the air felt warmer.
Familiar.
Yan Ming spoke quietly.
"That is likely where he hesitated."
Lian Hong's breath caught.
"…Why do I feel that?"
Yan Ming didn't answer.
Because the answer was obvious:
Shadow remembers shadow.
As they progressed,the corridor widened.
The walls changed—no longer smooth obsidian,but carved with symbols.
Not writing.Not runes.
Imprints.
Palm-shaped dents.Finger streaks.Marks of hands pressing against stone.
Some deep.Some shallow.
Some perfectly human.
Some unmistakably not.
Su Qingyue stepped back.
"Yan Ming… those marks—"
"Yes," he said.
"They were made by him."
Zhou Shan squeaked:
"BRO WHAT WAS HE DOING—SPIDER-CLIMBING WHILE PANICKING—??"
Yan Ming touched one of the deeper prints.
"He was losing control."
Lian Hong's heart tightened.
"…Because of the shadow?"
Yan Ming shook his head.
"Because of what he heard beneath."
Lian Hong lowered his gaze.
He understood too well.
Su Qingyue rubbed her arms.
"It feels like the walls are… listening."
"They are," Yan Ming said.
"This place was made to absorb memory."
"And to echo it."
Lian Hong asked quietly:
"Then why don't we hear anything?"
Yan Ming's eyes narrowed.
"We're about to."
A low vibration rippled through the corridor.
Not sound.
Not movement.
A presence.
Lian Hong's shadow lifted slightly at his feet.
He whispered:
"…It's here."
Su Qingyue drew her sword.
Yan Ming stepped forward.
"Do not attack.Echoes are not enemies."
Zhou Shan crouched behind a large crack in the wall.
"WHAT IF THE ECHO DOESN'T KNOW THAT—?WHAT IF IT THINKS WE'RE DOING A FIELD TRIP—?!"
The vibration deepened.
A shimmer appeared in the air—like heat distortion.
Then—
a shape formed.
Tall.Vague.Built from memory, not flesh.
A figure draped in indistinct robes.
No face.
No details.
Just a silhouette etched by time.
Su Qingyue froze.
"…Is that—"
Yan Ming nodded.
"Yes."
"The First Echo."
Lian Hong felt breath leave him.
The figure stood still,as if carved from old smoke.
Not threatening.
Not aware.
Just present.
But as Lian Hong took one step forward—
the figure tilted its head.
A whisper filled the hall:
—second echo—why do you walk my path—
Lian Hong's heart slammed against his ribs.
It knew him.
Su Qingyue whispered:
"It's speaking—!"
Yan Ming stepped calmly between them.
"Echo-Bearer of the First Shadow,"he said formally."We seek knowledge."
The silhouette did not respond.
It looked only at Lian Hong.
Its voice deepened.
—you carrywhat he left behind—
Lian Hong swallowed hard.
"What… what did he leave?"
The echo wavered.
Then whispered:
—the wound—
Silence.
Cold.Absolute.
Lian Hong's breath trembled.
"…Wound?"
Yan Ming stepped sharply forward.
"What wound?"
The shadow echo turned away.
Its answer was quiet.
Broken.
Ancient.
—the wound he toreinto the world—
And the hall shuddered.
Cracks raced along the stone floor.
The echo faded—
not dispersing.Retreating.
Into deeper darkness.
Yan Ming swore under his breath.
"This is worse than I thought."
Su Qingyue stepped beside Lian Hong.
"What wound?"
Yan Ming stared into the depths of the hall.
His expression was grim.
"The masked one didn't give the Echo-Bearer power."
"He gave him a fracture."
Lian Hong felt cold spread in his chest.
"…A fracture in what?"
Yan Ming turned slowly.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"In reality."