Yan Zhenwu's POV
The ginkgo leaves swayed gently in the still morning air, shedding gold and green alike as the wind passed through the high terraces of Emerald Wind Peak.
Yan Zhenwu stood alone in the pavilion, his robes flowing quietly like a second breeze, hands folded at the small of his back. Though there was no blade at his side, no gleam of steel in hand, the weight of a sword hung in the air—too deeply woven into his presence to be seen.
He hadn't drawn his sword yet, the mountain still listened when he breathed.
A junior disciple approached, his footsteps light but respectful. "Peak Master," he said, bowing low. "A letter has arrived. From the mortal world. It bears… a seal. Plum blossom and blue ink."
Yan Zhenwu did not move at first. Only his eyes lowered.
"…Let me see it."
The letter was placed in his palm. The wax was cracked from travel, but the emblem was unfamiliar.
Qin Yue.
He stared at the name for a long moment. Not familiar.
He had not heard this name throughout his life even when he was a mortal.
He broke the seal and opened the parchment. The paper was weathered, but the script had been written with deliberate care.
*I should call you grandfather,
I do not write to ask for some help myself, for I know I that chose a path away from our world— however, I have no choice.
Her name is Qin Lian. She is my granddaughter. Your granddaughter. She is of your blood, though she does not yet know your name.
I can no longer keep her company in this dangerous world, as time seems slipping past my hands. I am writing to you not to seek any help for myself but for this poor child who will be left behind after I go.
The paper trembled just slightly in his hand, though the wind had not stirred.
Qin Lian.
Not just a name. A thread of blood that had stretched beyond his reach and returned now in the form of a child.
A great-great-granddaughter.
And unfamiliar name and title.
He closed the letter slowly, eyes lifting to the pale sky.
The mountain was quiet—but something in the air had shifted. Not qi. Not fate.
Something smaller.
Hope.
He stood for a long while, unmoving. Then, with a soft breath, he said: "Yun Wen."
The disciple arrived within seconds, appearing at the edge of the courtyard like a shadow drawn by instinct. He knelt. "Master."
Yan Zhenwu turned, his gaze unreadable, but quieter somehow.
"There is a girl," he said. "There is a girl tjat I need to find. "
"Master?" Yun Wen was confused
Yun Zhenwu stared at him and continued. "Prepare the western courtyard. As soon as I locate her, she will stay and remain here on Emerald Wind Peak."
Yun Wen blinked. and confused "…Who?"
"She is of my blood," Yan Zhenwu said quietly. "And it seems like I have been irresponsible without me knowing."
The words felt heavy on his tongue.
Yun Wen said nothing for a long breath, then bowed deeply. "It will be done."
As the disciple left, Yan Zhenwu stood beneath the ginkgo tree once more. The wind brushed past his sleeve.
"I never knew I had a child," he murmured. "Much less… a grandchild and now a great great grandchild"
He turned the letter over once more,
"But worry not, this time I will take responsibility "
And for the first time in years, the mountain wind stirred like the breath before a sword draw—quiet, weightless, but filled with promise.