The Consciousness of the Ansha
Xiao Yan found himself standing in darkness.
Not the darkness of night.
Not the darkness of shadow.
This was something deeper—thicker. A void without wind, without ground, without sky. He could not even feel his own breath echo back to him.
"Where am I…?" he murmured.
His voice did not travel far. It felt swallowed the moment it left his lips.
Then—
A faint light flickered in the distance.
Small at first. Fragile. Like a dying ember fighting against the void.
It grew slowly, shaping itself into a figure.
An old man.
His silhouette was thin but dignified. His posture familiar. His presence carried an ache Xiao Yan could not immediately name—but felt instinctively.
"Who are you?" Xiao Yan whispered, stepping forward cautiously.
The old man's eyes softened.
"I am your grandfather."
The words struck harder than any blow.
Xiao Yan's breath caught in his throat. His chest tightened painfully.
"Grandfather?" His voice wavered. "Why are you here?"
The old man gave a faint, weary smile.
"The Ansha keeps me here."
The simplicity of the answer sent a chill down Xiao Yan's spine.
"Here?" he demanded, anger rising beneath the shock. "Inside this place? Inside him?"
The old man nodded faintly.
"This is the consciousness of the Ansha. A realm within his own being. A prison woven from memory and will."
Xiao Yan stepped closer, urgency overtaking him.
"I'll take you out," he said quickly. "There must be a way. If you're here, you're not gone. I can free you."
The old man slowly shook his head.
"This is the last shard of my soul," he said gently. "A remnant he preserved—perhaps as leverage, perhaps as punishment. I cannot be saved."
The finality in his tone hollowed Xiao Yan's chest.
"No…" Xiao Yan clenched his fists tightly. "There's always a way."
The old man's gaze lingered on him—proud, sorrowful.
"Listen to me," he said quietly. "If you wish to end this… truly end it… you must destroy the Ansha's inner core."
Xiao Yan's head lifted sharply.
"Inner core?"
"It lies within his internal alchemy," the old man explained. "Not in his heart. Not in his mind. It rests lower—concealed within his knee."
"My… knee?" Xiao Yan repeated, stunned.
"One precise cut," the old man continued. "Nothing more. Nothing less. If you miss, you will lose your only chance."
Xiao Yan absorbed the words carefully, committing them to memory.
"And the weapon?" he asked. "No ordinary blade could reach something like that."
"The God-Destroying Sword," the old man replied without hesitation. "It is the only weapon capable of severing that core."
"Where is it?"
"It does not yet exist."
Xiao Yan's brows tightened.
"It can only be forged," the old man said, "when demons unite as one. Not divided by pride. Not separated by ambition. United in purpose."
Silence stretched between them.
Xiao Yan's voice trembled slightly when he spoke again.
"And if I do this… if I destroy his inner core…"
He hesitated.
"…will the world be saved?"
The old man's expression softened further.
"Yes."
"And…"
Xiao Yan swallowed.
"…my memories?"
"And your memories restored."
The words hit him deeply.
Fragments of dreams. The cliff. The dragon. Mi-An's tears. The feeling that something vast and important lay just beyond his reach.
All of it tied to what he had forgotten.
Xiao Yan took a step forward—but the light flickered violently.
The old man's form began to blur.
"Wait!" Xiao Yan reached out. "There's more I need to know—"
The figure faded rapidly, dissolving into scattered particles of light.
"Grandfather!"
Only his voice remained now, echoing faintly through the void.
"Go!"
The darkness trembled.
"Go, Xiao Yan!"
The final echo rang louder than before.
And then—
Everything shattered.
The void cracked like glass, light pouring through the fractures as the consciousness realm collapsed around him.
Xiao Yan felt himself pulled backward—
Drawn toward the waking world.
Toward the Ansha.
Toward the battle that was far from over.