The wind was cold that evening, carrying with it the whisper of autumn's death. Beneath a crimson sky, a lone figure staggered through the dense wilderness, his robes torn, his hair matted with dust and blood. Polyfalls Yen had been walking for three days and nights without food. His spiritual essence flickered weakly in his dantian, like the last ember of a dying flame.
He had escaped the massacre at the foothills of the Dao Xuanzhen border—his body battered, his heart heavier than iron. The faces of his parents haunted him: his father's last stand beneath the burning banners of the demonic sect, his mother's trembling voice as she sealed him within a concealment talisman. Live, she had whispered, tears streaking through ash. Even if Heaven rejects you, live.
But now, as his steps faltered, he wondered if living was worth the endless ache.
The forest stretched endlessly, its trees ancient and veiled in mist. Spiritual beasts moved in the shadows—lesser creatures of qi, yet dangerous to a weakened cultivator. His breathing grew shallow; his vision blurred. He stumbled upon a riverbank where the water shimmered with faint silver light—the River of Fading Light, known among cultivators for reflecting not the sky above but the spirit within those who gazed into it.
Polyfalls fell to his knees beside it. His reflection in the water was pale, eyes hollow, veins darkened from exhaustion and spiritual backlash. His cultivation had regressed from the late to the middle stage of Qi Refining, his meridians screaming in pain.
He cupped some water with trembling hands, drinking greedily, ignoring the metallic tang of spiritual minerals. But as he tried to stand, his knees buckled. His last thought before darkness took him was of his mother's voice—and then, nothing.
When he awoke, warmth greeted him. The scent of grilled fish lingered in the air, smoky and fragrant. A faint crackle of fire filled his ears, mixing with the soft hum of a distant waterfall.
He opened his eyes. The sky above was pale blue, filtered through dancing leaves. For a brief moment, he thought he was dreaming—until he saw her.
A young woman sat beside the fire, her hair long and dark, tied loosely with a jade clasp. She wore simple azure robes, patched at the sleeves yet clean, and her expression was calm but alert. Her eyes, a deep amber hue, glimmered like light passing through honey. She glanced at him briefly as she turned the fish over the flame.
"You're awake," she said softly. Her tone carried neither alarm nor surprise, just quiet observation. "I thought you'd sleep through another night. You looked half-dead when I found you."
Polyfalls tried to sit up, pain stabbing through his ribs. "Where… am I?"
"By the River of Fading Light," she replied, tearing a small piece of fish and tasting it. "Half a day's walk from Cloudveil Valley. You're lucky I came here to fish, or you'd have been food for river wolves."
He blinked, studying her carefully. Her aura was faintly visible to his weakened senses—steady and pure, yet with a flicker of restraint, as though she were suppressing her cultivation deliberately. He recognized it: Qi Refining Peak Stage.
She noticed his gaze and smirked faintly. "Don't worry, I'm not with the Righteous Path. If I were, you'd already be dead."
He tensed instinctively, hand moving to where his sword should've been—only to find it missing.
"Looking for this?" she asked, holding up his blade. It was wrapped in cloth and leaned against a nearby rock. "You muttered something about 'Dao Xuanzhen' in your sleep. I wasn't sure if you were friend or foe."
"I'm neither," he said after a pause, his voice rough. "Just a wanderer."
She raised a brow. "A wanderer with broken meridians, blood-soaked robes, and a demonic sect insignia burned into his belt?"
He looked down. The insignia of his fallen sect—the Crimson Abyss Sect—was still there, half-scorched, the symbol of rebellion against Heaven itself.
"…That insignia isn't what it used to mean," he murmured.
The girl shrugged lightly. "Symbols rarely are. Eat before it gets cold."
He hesitated, but hunger overruled caution. She handed him a skewer of grilled fish. The taste was surprisingly good—crisped skin, tender flesh, and a faint hint of spiritual essence from the river. It soothed his throat and warmed his belly.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
She waved a hand dismissively. "You can repay me when you can stand without wobbling."
He glanced at her again, noticing the faint scar beneath her left ear, half-hidden by her hair. It wasn't fresh—it looked old, a wound from a blade or whip. Her calm demeanor hid something deeper.
"…What's your name?" he asked.
"Meilin Xue."
The name lingered in the air for a moment, delicate yet firm.
"And you?"
"Polyfalls Yen."
She repeated it softly, as if testing the sound. "Polyfalls… Yen. A strange name for a cultivator."
"I didn't choose it," he said dryly.
She chuckled quietly, tossing a pebble into the river. The ripples caught the dying sunlight, scattering silver patterns across her face. For a brief moment, she seemed part of the river itself—beautiful, elusive, untouchable.
"Then maybe you'll choose what to become instead," she said.
He didn't answer. The fire crackled between them, and for the first time in many days, silence didn't feel like suffocation.
That night, as the moon rose over the river, Meilin dozed lightly by the fire while Polyfalls sat awake, staring at the stars. His body still ached, but his spirit was quieter.
He turned his palm upward and summoned a wisp of spiritual essence. It flickered weakly—bluish-white, unstable. His Qi Refining Middle Stage cultivation was damaged, his foundation unstable after the escape. He tried to circulate his qi through his meridians, but pain shot through his arm and chest.
"Don't force it," Meilin said without opening her eyes.
He looked over. "You're awake."
"I don't sleep deeply around strangers," she murmured. "Your qi flow is erratic. You'll cripple yourself if you keep that up."
He frowned. "You can sense that from there?"
"I've been at the peak stage for a while," she said, eyes still closed. "I can feel turbulence from miles away. Yours is loud as thunder."
He exhaled slowly, letting the energy fade. "I have to rebuild my foundation. Everything I cultivated before… it's fractured."
"Then start again," she said simply.
"It's not that easy."
She opened her eyes, the firelight reflecting in them. "It never is. But you're still breathing. That's enough reason to try."
Her words hit deeper than she intended. Polyfalls looked down at his hands—hands once steady, now trembling. He thought of his parents again, of blood on white snow, of Heaven's lightning tearing through his sect's mountain stronghold.
"Do you hate them?" she asked quietly, as if reading his silence.
He looked up, startled.
"The Righteous Path," she clarified. "Do you hate them for what they did?"
He hesitated. "I don't know anymore. Hate burns fast. What's left after it fades?"
She smiled faintly. "Maybe something stronger."
He met her gaze. For a moment, they simply looked at each other—the broken son of a fallen sect and the mysterious girl by the river. Two wandering souls caught between survival and destiny.
Then she yawned softly and turned away. "Sleep. Tomorrow we'll see if your legs work. I don't carry injured men twice."
He almost smiled.
"Understood."
As he lay down beside the dwindling fire, the soft murmur of the river lulled him to sleep. The stars above shimmered faintly, as though the heavens themselves were watching.
And in that quiet place, beneath the light of fading stars, a bond was formed—fragile, uncertain, yet destined to shape the course of the Forbidden Dao.