The hall remained suffocatingly silent.
Fragments of shattered stone lay scattered where the Soul-Shattering Beast had erupted through the entrance earlier—its murderous aura still clinging to the pillars like ghostly residue. Even though the beast had vanished once more, leaving only destruction in its wake, the disciples of Blaze Sword Sect, Skyfire Monastery, and Serpent River Clan could still feel their hearts racing.
But now, after securing temporary safety, the groups pushed deeper into the vast hall.
And the deeper they moved, the heavier the air became.
It was as though the city itself held its breath, waiting for someone to remember it.
orch-like crystals embedded in the walls flickered weakly as Zu Tian and the combined group entered an inner chamber. Dust swirled around their steps, untouched for countless ages.
Everything in this place bore marks of catastrophe—collapsed beams, scorch lines melted into marble floors, and carvings cracked as though struck by heavenly tribulation.
"Look…" whispered one disciple from Serpent River Clan.
Before them stood a massive mural carved across an entire wall. Not a painting—a memory etched into stone.
On it were ancient characters, swirling patterns, and scenes depicting a large clan: figures in flowing robes, children practicing sword forms beneath sunlit courtyards… a thriving family.
Li Xueyao traced a finger across a section of the carving."Yi… The surname is Yi," she said softly. "This must be the clan we saw in the projection—the Yi Family."
Many nodded.
Yet something was wrong.
Very wrong.
"No graves," Zu Tian said quietly, scanning the chamber. "No bone fragments. No ancestral tablets. Not even ashes."
A hush fell.
He continued, voice steady but grave:
"It's impossible. Even if a great calamity struck… even if divine fire descended… bones of cultivators at this level should have lasted thousands of years. The hall outside was devastated, yet not a trace remains of human remains."
The disciples shuddered.
Skyfire Monastery's senior monk folded his hands."In ancient records," he said, "even the worst battles left remnants. Burned bones, shattered weapon cores… something."
"But here?" added a Serpent River disciple. "It's as if the entire clan… was erased from existence."
Zu Tian frowned.
And the others noticed.
"You're thinking something," Yen Mo said quietly.
Zu Tian shook his head, but not in denial."In the sect's records… there is no mention of a destroyed clan this large. No Yi Family. No ancient city. Nothing."
That struck the gathered disciples like a blow.
Skyfire Monastery's monk spoke again, disbelief etched on his face.
"A calamity powerful enough to annihilate an entire city—and leave no bones behind—should have been known across the continent."
"And yet… it's not."Yen Mo swallowed. "Something erased the memory. Or someone."
The thought chilled them worse than the beast's aura.
Deeper inside the hall, a small archway led into a circular chamber.
At its center sat an ancient table shaped like a lotus blossom.
And surrounding it were scrolls, stone tablets, shattered jade slips, and broken sigils—remnants of the Yi Family's archives.
Zu Tian stepped forward.
His broken sword pulsed once—soft, faint, but unmistakable.
He stiffened.
Noticing this, Li Xueyao asked quietly, "Senior Brother… your sword reacts here?"
"Yes," Zu Tian said. "And that's what worries me."
He placed a hand on the hilt.
"The Soul-Shattering Beast looked at this sword. Not me. The sword."
The others exchanged tense, uneasy glances.
"What connection…""…could an ancient beast…""…possibly have with a broken sword?"
Zu Tian didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Not yet.
The others continued inspecting the murals and broken statues, searching for clues but finding none. The more they searched, the less they understood.
Zu Tian let his fingers brush the ancient stone wall, tracing the faint grooves of a symbol long erased.
The sword pulsed again.
A question rose in his mind—one he had buried for years, one he rarely allowed himself to consider:
Who am I?
He had asked the Second Elder once—many years ago, when he was still a child struggling through basic sword forms.
He still remembered the old man's sigh.The way he knelt beside him.The way he stared into the dying sunset before answering.
"I found you in the northern ravines… wrapped in nothing but a torn cloth."
"And beside you—this sword."
Zu Tian closed his eyes.
The memory played clearly:
He was a baby, abandoned in the silent cold of a ravine that devoured travelers.No footprints.No tracks.No scent of attackers or fleeing parents.Just him——and a broken sword stabbed into the ground beside him as if claiming him… or guarding him.
"There was no name, no token, no clue of who you belonged to," Second Elder had said.
"So I brought you back."
Zu Tian's fingers tightened slightly.
Here, in this ruined hall of an erased city… with a skeleton-like beast roaming these lands… and images of a family slaughtered by fire so powerful it left no remains…
It was hard not to feel a faint thread connecting it all.
But there was nothing—no clue, no proof, no mural, no remnants—only the oppression of history's erased wound.
He opened his eyes.
His gaze drifted to the disciples around him—tired, shaken, yet driven—and he forced those questions back into the depths of his mind.
"Let's not linger," he said at last. "This place holds no answers left to find."
Li Xueyao turned to him. "Zu Tian… your sword has been reacting since we entered the city. Do you think—"
He cut her off gently. "It's just reacting to the remnant qi. Nothing more."
But she was not convinced.
Neither were the others.
And neither was he.
As they turned toward the exit of the chamber, a faint tremor passed through the ground—so light at first that only Zu Tian and a few others noticed.
Then another.