The sun had barely risen when Li Xian slipped quietly from the Greenmist Sect. Mist still clung to the valley like a thin veil, and the river glimmered faintly in the early light. Each step on the soft earth was measured, careful. He didn't want to wake the few early risers in the courtyard—or alert the outer guards.
His bag was light: a few pieces of dried bread, a waterskin, his worn practice sword, and a small bundle of cloth for emergencies. He paused at the edge of the outer wall, looking back at the familiar wooden buildings and the courtyard where he had trained for so many mornings.
"Home for now," he whispered. "But I need to see what's beyond."
The valley stretched out before him—rolling hills dotted with sparse trees, rivers winding like silver threads, and distant mountain ranges painted in shades of blue and gray. The sight was breathtaking. Li Xian felt a surge of excitement and unease. He had always heard stories of the Mortal Realm's dangers, but seeing it with his own eyes made it real.
Carefully, he descended the gentle slope leading away from the sect. The earth was soft with dew, and small birds scattered as he passed. Each step seemed heavier than he expected, as if the world was weighing him, reminding him that he was small and inexperienced.
First Stretch – Observing the World
As he walked, Li Xian took in the details of the wilderness. The trees here were older than anything in the sect's courtyard. Their bark was rough and gnarled, branches twisting like the arms of ancient guardians. Faint traces of animal life—tracks, broken branches, small droppings—reminded him that he was not alone.
He practiced walking lightly, careful not to disturb anything. Not for stealth, exactly, but because the world felt fragile here, older than the valley he had known.
Li Xian knelt beside a patch of moss, touching it gently. It was cool and damp under his fingers. He smiled faintly. "So much life… and I barely know any of it."
Minor Challenge – Crossing a Creek
Eventually, he came to a small creek cutting through the forest. The water was clear, shallow, but the stones were slick with algae. One misstep could mean a wet, uncomfortable morning—or worse, a sprained ankle in a place far from help.
Li Xian paused. He tested each stone with a careful foot before stepping. His body was untrained for long journeys; even a small creek was a trial. When he finally crossed, he let out a quiet breath, feeling a small sense of accomplishment.
Encounter – Signs of Life
Beyond the creek, the forest thickened. He noticed broken branches and claw marks on trees, subtle signs that he wasn't alone. His heart thumped—not in fear, but in alertness. He crouched behind a fallen log, scanning.
A pair of small, fox-like beasts darted between the trees, their orange fur glinting in the sunlight. Li Xian watched them carefully. They seemed curious but cautious, much like himself.
"They're just as wary as I am," he whispered. "Interesting."
He decided to follow them from a safe distance, learning their patterns, observing how they moved. Not to hunt them—he didn't need to—but to understand the world he had stepped into.
Arrival at the Ruins – First Hints of Mystery
By midday, he reached the edge of the ruins he had seen from the valley. The towers were crumbled, overgrown with vines, and the stones were cracked with age. Faint traces of carvings, faded and nearly worn away, hinted at a civilization long forgotten.
Li Xian stepped carefully among the stones, mindful of unstable ground. He paused at a half-buried pillar, brushing away the moss to reveal a faint engraving. Though he could not read it, a tingling sensation ran through his fingers as he touched the stone, almost like static electricity.
He jumped back slightly, startled. "What… was that?" he muttered. The sensation vanished as quickly as it came.
There was no one else here. No spirits, no cultivators—just the wind through the broken walls, the river murmuring somewhere in the distance.Still, Li Xian's curiosity burned brighter than ever. He explored cautiously, moving from one toppled tower to the next. Every broken column and fallen stone seemed to whisper secrets, though he could not yet understand them.
Reflection – The Vastness of the Mortal Realm
He sat on a large stone, pulling out his waterskin. Drinking slowly, he let his gaze wander across the ruins and the surrounding forest. How vast the world was. How small he truly was.
Li Xian's thoughts drifted to the sect, to the elders' teachings, to the stories of Supreme Weapons and powerful cultivators. He had never seen such things for himself, only heard of them in scrolls and tales. Here, beyond the walls of the sect, the world felt larger, older, and far more dangerous than he had imagined.
Yet he was determined. He would explore, learn, and survive. Slowly, step by step, day by day. He would not rush, and he would not overreach. Not yet.
Part 2 – Danger and Discovery
Li Xian had been wandering among the ruins for hours. The sun had climbed higher, filtering through gaps in the broken towers, casting long shadows across the cracked stones. The air smelled of moss, dust, and something faintly metallic—something old, lingering from centuries past.
He crouched to examine a faintly carved symbol on a broken archway. His fingers traced the grooves, but the meaning eluded him. "Strange… I've never seen anything like this in the sect's scrolls." He straightened, the quiet of the ruins pressing on him.
A sudden rustle in the bushes made him freeze. His heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he turned, hand on his sword hilt. From between two twisted trees, a small group of creatures emerged—fox-like, but larger and fiercer than the ones he had followed earlier. Their eyes glowed faintly in the sunlight, intelligent and watchful.
Li Xian's first instinct was to retreat, but he held his ground. He remembered the breathing exercises his instructor had drilled into him, even if only briefly. Calm your mind. Observe. React.
The creatures circled him, sniffing the air, then one leapt forward. Li Xian dodged instinctively, rolling behind a fallen column. It was quick, but not strong enough to harm him. He realized they were testing him, curious yet cautious.
He breathed slowly, focusing, waiting for a clear opening. When one of the beasts charged again, he sidestepped and let it pass. The moment it went by, he jumped to higher ground—a fallen tower slab—and watched them scatter into the trees, fading from view.
"Not much of a fight," he muttered to himself, brushing dust from his clothes. "But I can't let my guard down. Even small things can kill an unprepared disciple."
A Safe Moment of Practice
Li Xian settled on a flat stone, taking a few moments to stretch and recover. He didn't need to push cultivation yet—there were no enemies to defeat with power—but he could practice discipline and control.
He moved through slow, deliberate motions: footwork, stance adjustments, and controlled breathing. Nothing flashy, nothing beyond his level, but every motion felt like a small step forward. Each deep breath reminded him of the rhythm of the world: wind, water, stone, and the heartbeat of his own body.
Even here, far from the sect, Li Xian felt a quiet satisfaction. Progress was slow, but real. No sudden breakthroughs, no miraculous techniques—just learning to move, observe, and survive in a world that was much larger than the valley he had always known.
Hints of Mystery
As he practiced, a faint glimmer caught his eye from beneath a pile of broken stones. Curious, he approached carefully and brushed away the rubble. A small fragment of something metallic lay half-buried in the dirt. It was a piece of an old sword, chipped and worn, yet faintly humming with a strange energy he could feel even with his limited senses.
Li Xian reached for it cautiously. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, the fragment pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat. He recoiled slightly, a mixture of awe and fear surging through him.
"What is this…?" he whispered.
He didn't understand it, couldn't measure its power, and certainly could not wield it yet. But he knew it was important, something ancient, something alive.
Subtle Danger – Observing a Shadow
Before he could examine it further, a movement at the edge of the clearing caught his attention. A figure stood just beyond the ruins, partially obscured by shadows. Li Xian froze, instincts screaming. It was humanoid, cloaked, silent.
His heart pounded. He was not prepared for a fight, but running blindly might be worse. He ducked behind a stone, holding his breath, watching. The figure did not move closer, merely observed. Slowly, it turned and disappeared among the trees, leaving Li Xian shaken but unharmed.
"That… was close," he whispered. "Someone—or something—is watching these ruins."
The encounter left him with more questions than answers. The ruins, the strange sword fragment, and now this shadowy presence hinted at a hidden history of the Mortal Realm far older and stranger than he had imagined.
Closing Reflection
Li Xian sat at the edge of the ruins as the afternoon sun began to dip toward the horizon. He drank from his waterskin and let his thoughts wander. The forest around him was alive with sounds—the hum of insects, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds—but it was quiet in a way that made him aware of his own smallness.
He thought of the sect, of the elders, of Yue Ling and Chen Tao, and of the countless stories he had heard in the past. Everything seemed smaller now, simpler. Here, beyond the valley, he had glimpsed a world that was larger, older, and full of secrets.
A small smile touched his lips. He did not yet understand the ruins, the fragment, or the shadow, but he would. Slowly, carefully, step by step, he would learn to survive, to observe, and eventually, to grow strong. Not today, not yet—but someday.
With that resolve, Li Xian packed his few belongings. He had taken his first step beyond the sect, and there was no turning back. The world waited, vast and unknown, and he would face it—one careful step at a time.
The ruins were silent once more, but Li Xian could not shake the feeling that something ancient and patient was watching, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.