"The Sect of the Purple Lightning... I've told you about it, haven't I?"
No one answered.
The fire crackled faintly, its glow dancing across the damp walls of the cave. A drop of water fell with a hollow echo, like a final note in a silence too long.
Chen continued, his voice hoarse, as though it came from a faraway, forgotten place:
"It's one of the oldest sects in this region. They don't just cultivate lightning, speed, or raw power... No. What they pursue is the inner lightning."
He paused, his gaze lost in the dance of the flames.
"They believe every being holds a spark. Not a flame. Not a destructive fire. A will. A will capable of cutting through darkness."
Yun Lue slowly lifted her head.
"A will?"
"Yes. Not an emotion. Not a thought. Not even a conviction. Something deeper."
He turned to Hei Tian. His gaze was heavier than usual—almost worried.
"You have it, that thing. Even if you don't know it yet."
Hei Tian didn't respond. He seemed distant, but every word sank into the stone of his memory like a nail. He didn't understand yet, but something resonated within him—dully, dangerously.
Chen resumed, more softly:
"The disciples of the Purple Lightning don't seek glory, or revenge, or titles. They rise through trial, through the storm. Each forges their own path in the lightning. And they expect nothing from the heavens."
A long silence followed.
The fire sputtered, struggling against the damp. The echo of rain had ceased, but the air remained heavy, thick, as if charged with electricity.
Then Yun Lue murmured:
"So why didn't you stay with them?"
Chen shrugged. A sad, old smile stretched across his lips.
"Too old. Too slow. Too... human."
He sighed, deeply.
"But you... you still have a choice."
A rustle. Mu Liang shifted slightly in his sleep. Yun Lue protectively wrapped an arm around him, her features tight, eyes fixed on the fire as if it could reveal the future.
Hei Tian rose without a word.
He walked to the cave entrance. The rain had stopped, but the world remained drowned in a heavy, almost unreal mist. He looked up: not a single star. The sky was absent.
And yet, somewhere in that silence, something vibrated.
He closed his eyes.
It wasn't a voice. Not a memory. More like a pressure. A breath. An instinct.
Something he couldn't name—not yet.
He returned to the others.
Chen was watching him. He said nothing.
Hei Tian crouched near the fire. His voice was low, but firm.
"We'll go to the city."
Old Chen nodded slowly.
"Five or six days' walk if we cut through the woods. Seven if we avoid the roads."
Hei Tian narrowed his eyes.
"Is the city safe?"
Chen hesitated. His tone became more cautious.
"Safe... No. But it's big. Too big for us to be noticed right away."
He added, as an offering:
"And also... you might have a chance to enter the Sect of the Purple Lightning."
Yun Lue, who had been silent until now, spoke, her voice weak but resolute:
"That sect you talked about before... they recruit in that city?"
Old Chen nodded.
"Yes. Every year, the Sect of the Purple Lightning sends out a notice. They post the test dates in the main square."
Silence fell again.
The fire had nearly gone out, leaving only a dim, somber glow.
Then Hei Tian spoke again, more quietly:
"We'll stay in this cave until he's rested. Then we go. We'll take the hunters' trails. We'll never use the roads. And if we see anyone..."
Chen finished for him:
"We hide. Or we move away. Always."
He then looked at Hei Tian with calm gravity.
"You want to learn to cultivate, I see it. But you also want to lead. Know that if you make that choice, you'll have to carry these children. Protect them. Not out of pride. Out of duty."
Hei Tian didn't answer right away. He looked at Yun Lue, then at Mu Liang sleeping against her, then at old Chen.
He stood. His silhouette was framed in the dying firelight.
And he declared simply:
"I will not run anymore."
And in that sentence, there was the promise of a world that would burn one day,
if that was the only way to build a new one.
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