For three days after the envoy's departure—
Nothing happened.
No celestial voice.
No external pressure.
No sudden breakthroughs.
Even the sect felt strangely… normal.
Disciples returned to training.
Elders returned to calculation.
The plaza where Heaven had spoken resumed its function as stone and dust.
But Zheng Wen Te felt the difference.
The weight was gone.
Not lifted.
Withdrawn.
He was no longer under evaluation.
Which meant—
Every choice now belonged solely to him.
That realization was heavier than observation.
He stood at the edge of the outer courtyard at dawn.
Lian approached quietly.
"You're different," she said.
"Yes."
"How?"
He considered.
"Before, I stood because someone had to."
"And now?"
"I stand because I choose to."
The distinction was subtle.
But absolute.
By midday, he requested audience with the First Elder.
The elders were surprised.
He rarely initiated.
"You seek resources?" the First Elder asked.
"No."
"Guidance?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Zheng Wen Te's voice remained calm.
"I request permission to leave the sect temporarily."
The chamber fell silent.
"Leave?" one elder repeated sharply.
"Yes."
"For what purpose?"
"To walk."
The word confused them more than rebellion would have.
"You intend to wander the mortal territories?" another elder asked.
"Yes."
"You may encounter political factions."
"Yes."
"External cultivators."
"Yes."
"Uncontrolled variables."
"Yes."
The First Elder narrowed his eyes.
"You have just stabilized cosmic attention. Why step into unpredictability?"
Zheng Wen Te met his gaze.
"Because stability without movement becomes stagnation."
Silence.
He continued.
"If I only react to forces that arrive, I remain defined by them."
"I will take one step not prompted by Heaven, envoy, or threat."
"Only by myself."
The elders exchanged looks.
This was not defiance.
It was evolution.
After a long pause—
"Duration?" the First Elder asked.
"Undefined."
"Return condition?"
"When I have learned something not obtainable here."
Another long silence.
Finally—
"You may go," the First Elder said.
"But you will not travel as envoy, symbol, or representative."
"Understood."
"You travel as ordinary disciple."
"Understood."
Permission granted.
No ceremony followed.
He packed lightly.
One robe.
Basic provisions.
No sect insignia.
No escort.
Lian found him at the gate again.
"You're really leaving."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
She hesitated.
"Are you seeking something?"
He thought carefully.
"No."
"Then why go?"
He looked toward the distant horizon beyond the mountains.
"Because if I never step without being pushed—"
"I will never know who walks."
That answer settled between them.
She nodded slowly.
"Then walk carefully."
He inclined his head.
The gates opened.
Not dramatically.
Just wood and iron shifting.
He crossed the threshold.
No tremor shook the sky.
No envoy reappeared.
No Heaven questioned.
For the first time since arriving in this world—
He moved without response.
Not resisting.
Not being tested.
Not correcting distortion.
Just—
Walking.
Behind him, the sect resumed breathing.
Ahead of him, the mortal territories stretched wide.
Unmeasured.
Unobserved.
Unscripted.
And somewhere in that vastness—
Choice awaited.