Reunion After a Century
A hundred years had passed.
Empires had shifted. Mountains had weathered. Rivers had carved deeper paths through stone.
Yet time had not dimmed the love and bonds that tied them together.
On the quiet riverbank, morning mist drifted lazily across the surface of the water. The rising sun painted the horizon in hues of gold and pale crimson. Spiritual energy lingered in the air—calm, restrained, waiting.
Xiao Yan stood among the Saints, Nem, and Di'or.
Before them, resting upon a flat stone, lay a sword.
Its blade gleamed in the dawn light—not with ordinary brilliance, but with something deeper. Its surface seemed to drink in the sunlight and return it refined. Faint demonic runes traced along its length, pulsing gently in unison.
The God-Destroying Sword.
Forged at last by demons united as one.
"The sword is complete," Nem announced, his voice steady, though something flickered beneath it. "All will end soon."
He paused, eyes lowering briefly.
"And… I will regain my memories soon."
Di'or frowned immediately, unease shadowing her expression.
"Why do I feel bad about this?" she asked quietly. "Regaining your memories… it feels… wrong."
Nem did not answer at once.
The river flowed between them, steady and indifferent.
"Speaking of Mi-An," Di'or continued, her tone shifting, "don't you miss her? You said you loved her. Have you looked for her?"
The question lingered in the air.
Before Nem could respond, she turned and walked away, her robes brushing softly against the damp grass.
"Di'or…" Nem muttered.
But she did not stop.
Silence followed.
Xiao Yan stepped closer to the river's edge. His reflection shimmered faintly on the water's surface, distorted by ripples and light.
"I miss her," he said at last, voice low. "The past hundred years, I have searched for her. Across mountains, across realms. But I do not know where she is."
The admission felt heavier than he expected.
One of the Saints from the XiWu Sect raised his gaze toward the sky.
"I have observed the stars," he said thoughtfully. "The celestial patterns shift in strange ways. I feel that one day soon… she will return."
Xiao Yan said nothing.
He had long since stopped trusting hope.
And then—
A voice called from behind him.
"Xiao Yan!"
The sound struck him like lightning.
He froze.
Slowly, he turned.
His heart raced violently against his ribs.
There she stood.
Mi-An.
Radiant.
Alive.
Her figure shimmered faintly in the morning mist, yet she was unmistakably real. Her aura had deepened—stronger, steadier—but her eyes were the same.
Shock and joy collided within him so fiercely he could barely breathe.
He ran to her.
Without hesitation.
Without caution.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as though she might dissolve if he loosened his grip.
"Mi-An…" he whispered, his voice trembling despite his strength. "Where have you been all this while?"
She pressed her face against his chest.
"I'm sorry," she replied softly.
The words carried a century's worth of silence.
He pulled back slightly, lifting a hand to wipe away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes.
"Say no more," he murmured. "Just don't leave me again, uhn."
There was no accusation in his voice.
Only longing.
Only relief.
She looked up at him, and this time her gaze did not waver.
"I won't," Mi-An said firmly.
Her voice was filled with conviction.
"I promise."
Behind them, the river continued to flow.
The sword gleamed.
And somewhere beyond the rising sun—
Fate stirred once more.