Ren did not move for a long time.
The jade slip rested in his palm, cool now that the woman from the Ascending Ladder Sect was gone. It felt heavier than it should have—less because of what it was, more because of what it represented.
A door.
Not open.Not closed.
Waiting.
Ren slipped the slip back into his pack and stood.
He didn't feel watched anymore.Not directly.
But the echo inside him remained alert, tracing the faint impressions left behind by intent that had already passed through this stretch of road.
He resumed walking.
The path ahead narrowed, winding through low hills dotted with stone outcroppings and twisted trees. This was border land—claimed by no sect, patrolled by none with consistency. The kind of place where stories began quietly and ended loudly.
Ren preferred quiet beginnings.
As he walked, fragments of conversation drifted from memory—things he'd overheard at the river junction, the roadside rest, the edge of camps.
Anomaly.Echo.Kid who didn't kneel.
Rumors layered themselves on truth until neither was clean anymore.
Ren exhaled.
"So it's started," he murmured.
The echo pulsed faintly—not excited, not fearful.
Aware.
By midday, Ren encountered a small caravan stalled near a broken wheel. Two merchants argued quietly while a pair of guards stood watch, hands never far from their weapons.
Ren slowed, assessing.
No cultivators.No obvious threat.
Just tired people.
He approached openly.
"Need help?" he asked.
The guards stiffened, then relaxed when they saw he was young and unarmed.
One merchant eyed him suspiciously.
"You know wheels?"
"I know leverage," Ren replied.
That was enough.
Together, they propped the wagon, braced the axle, and reinforced the wheel with a crude binding of rope and wood. It wasn't elegant, but it would hold long enough to reach the next town.
The older merchant nodded appreciatively.
"Traveling alone at your age is dangerous," he said.
Ren smiled faintly.
"So I've heard."
The man hesitated.
"You're not… one of them, are you?"
Ren knew who he meant.
"No," he said truthfully."Not yet."
The answer unsettled the man more than a lie would have.
Ren left before more questions came.
By evening, the land rose again, the road curving along a ridge that overlooked a shallow valley. Smoke rose from a distant settlement—small, but active.
Ren stopped at the ridge.
He could feel it now.
Not danger.
Pull.
The echo responded subtly, not tugging him forward but acknowledging the convergence of paths—people, rumors, choices—gathering just beyond the horizon.
Ren sat and ate a simple meal as the sun dipped low.
He thought of the jade slip.Of Red Hollow Pavilion.Of Ascending Ladder Sect.Of the village that still slept behind him, believing—hoping—this journey would make things safer.
He clenched his fist.
"I won't choose yet," he said quietly."Not until I understand the cost."
The echo pulsed once.
Agreement.
Night settled in, cool and clear. Ren lay back against a rock, watching stars emerge one by one.
For now, the road was still a road.
Not a fork.Not a trap.Not a promise.
And Ren would keep it that way a little longer.