The night still had not ended.
Darkness stretched across the mountains like an unhealed wound, silent and watchful, as if the world itself feared what had just been awakened upon the lonely road.
Xu Yan could not move.
Not because he lacked strength—
but because the weight of truth pressed too heavily against his soul.
Blood cooled on his skin.
Dust clung to his robes.
The shattered remains of ancient chains lay scattered behind him like the bones of forgotten ages.
And before him…
stood the woman who called him king.
The crimson glow of the storage ring had dimmed, yet power still lingered in the air—thick, ancient, immeasurable.
It wrapped around her form like invisible silk, outlining a presence that did not belong to the mortal world.
She watched him quietly.
Not with expectation.
Not with doubt.
With the calm certainty of someone who had already waited through eternity.
Xu Yan's throat felt dry.
"…If what you said is true," he murmured, voice rough from exhaustion,
"then why don't I remember anything?"
The question trembled more than he intended.
Because some small, hidden part of him feared the answer.
The woman's gaze softened.
"Because you chose not to."
Her words fell gently—
yet struck like thunder inside his mind.
"You shattered your own soul before the final battle ended," she continued.
"You scattered your memories across reincarnation so the heavens could not find you… could not erase you completely."
Xu Yan's breathing slowed.
Fragments stirred in the darkness of his thoughts—
not images…
not sounds…
only feelings.
Loneliness vast as the stars.
Power heavy as a crown made of chains.
A decision made with no path of return.
Pain flickered behind his eyes.
He forced it down.
"Then tell me," he said quietly,
"who were you… to the person I used to be?"
For the first time, emotion broke through her calm.
Not grand.
Not dramatic.
Only something small and fragile—
like a memory protected too long.
"I was the blade at your side," she whispered.
"The last general who did not betray you… when the heavens fell."
Silence spread between them.
The mountains listened.
The night held its breath.
Xu Yan felt the truth of her words without understanding why.
And that frightened him more than anything.
Because truth without memory was a chain of its own.
A weak rustle sounded behind him.
The small golden beast—freed from endless imprisonment—struggled to stand.
Its body trembled with exhaustion.
Its wings, though radiant, hung heavy with wounds carved by time itself.
Yet its ancient golden eyes never left Xu Yan.
Waiting.
Searching.
Hoping.
Xu Yan turned slowly.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Then the beast lowered its head… just slightly.
Not submission.
Not yet.
But something older.
Recognition.
A quiet pulse echoed through Xu Yan's chest—deep, instinctive, undeniable.
He did not remember this creature.
Yet his soul… did.
"…You called me master," Xu Yan said softly.
The beast's ears twitched faintly.
A voice brushed the edge of his mind, fragile but clear:
Because you are.
Three simple words.
He should have rejected them.
Should have doubted.
Should have demanded proof.
Instead—
his chest tightened with an ache that felt like home.
Xu Yan closed his eyes briefly.
When they opened again, caution had returned—sharp and unyielding.
"Then you'll have to prove it," he said quietly.
"Because I don't trust fate… and I don't trust miracles."
The golden beast studied him.
And slowly…
it nodded.
The woman's soft laughter drifted through the air like falling snow.
"Still the same," she said.
"A king who trusted nothing—
except the strength he forged himself."
Xu Yan did not answer.
Because another truth had already formed in his mind.
If enemies in the heavens truly existed…
then tonight's awakening was not salvation.
It was exposure.
Danger far beyond this quiet mountain road had already begun to move.
"We can't stay here," he said.
Practical. Immediate. Certain.
The woman inclined her head slightly, approval flickering in her eyes.
"You learn quickly, even without memory."
Xu Yan ignored the comment and turned toward the abandoned caravan.
The merchant's body lay still in the dust, face peaceful in death.
Xu Yan looked down at him for a long moment.
"…You chose this," he said quietly.
No hatred.
No regret.
Only acknowledgment.
Then he stepped past the corpse and began searching the caravan with calm, efficient movements.
Because survival did not wait for grief.
The first thing he found was wealth.
Spirit stones.
Gold.
Supplies enough to support months of travel.
Useful—but ordinary.
He kept searching.
Hidden compartments revealed rare herbs… low-grade talismans… scattered cultivation manuals.
Then—
his hand paused.
At the bottom of a sealed chest lay an ancient compass of dull bronze, its surface etched with patterns too intricate for mortal craftsmanship.
The moment his fingers touched it—
warmth spread through his palm.
Familiar.
Waiting.
As if it had crossed lifetimes just to return to him.
Behind him, the golden beast lifted its head sharply.
The woman's expression turned solemn.
"Yes," she whispered.
"That followed you through death as well."
Xu Yan stared at the compass.
A quiet certainty formed in his heart:
This was not treasure.
This was guidance.
And guidance… could be hunted.
Slowly, he closed his fingers around it.
"We leave before dawn," he said.
The woman watched him carefully.
"You accept this quickly."
Xu Yan shook his head.
"No," he replied.
"I accept that running blindly will only get me killed."
His gaze hardened.
"If the heavens want me dead…
then the only way to survive—
is to become strong enough that even the heavens hesitate."
The words settled into the night like an oath.
The golden beast's eyes shone brighter.
The woman's expression turned proud—
and unbearably sad.
Because she had heard those same words once before…
at the beginning of a war that destroyed worlds.
Wind finally stirred across the mountains.
Faint. Cold. Unnatural.
Xu Yan felt it instantly.
Not with skin—
with instinct.
Something far away had begun searching.
Not fast enough to find him tonight.
But soon.
Very soon.
"We move now," he said.
No hesitation remained.
Only direction.
He gathered the caravan's most valuable resources into the storage ring, movements swift despite exhaustion.
The compass he kept close to his chest.
When he turned back—
the woman's figure had already begun to fade, returning to the ring to conserve strength.
But before disappearing completely, she spoke once more.
"Your enemies believe you are gone forever," she said softly.
"So for now… stay small."
Her eyes met his.
"Grow quietly.
Win slowly.
And when the time comes—"
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Make the heavens remember why they feared your name."
Then she vanished into crimson light.
Silence returned.
Only Xu Yan and the golden beast remained beneath the broken sky.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Xu Yan began walking down the dark mountain road without looking back.
After three steps—
soft paws followed behind him.
Not commanded.
Not bound.
Chosen.
A faint, almost invisible smile touched Xu Yan's lips.
Far above the mortal world…
beyond clouds, beyond stars, beyond the reach of reincarnated souls—
an ancient throne room of shattered light trembled.
Dust fell from pillars untouched for ages.
And upon a throne carved from the bones of fallen divinities…
a pair of cold eyes opened slowly.
Confusion flickered first.
Then disbelief.
Then something far more dangerous.
Fear.
"…Impossible," a voice whispered into eternity.
"He… should be gone."
Silence answered.
But deep within the endless machinery of heaven—
ancient seals had already begun to crack.
Back on the lonely road below,
unaware of the terror stirring above,
Xu Yan walked toward a future written in blood, destiny, and forgotten war.
Each step small.
Each breath mortal.
Each choice fragile.
Yet with every passing moment—
the distance between who he was
and who he had once been
grew thinner.
And somewhere ahead in the darkness…
the compass in his hand
shifted slightly—
pointing not toward safety,
but toward the first spark
of a power
that could one day
shake the heavens.