Morning came with a cold breeze sweeping through the forest, carrying the scent of dew and wet leaves. Wei Shuren awoke to the sound of birds chirping high above, the warmth of the campfire long gone. His body ached—muscles sore from yesterday’s exertion, and his legs barely able to hold his weight. Still, he rose, knowing that today would only bring more trials.

  Meilin was already awake, sharpening her dagger against a stone. Her dark hood was once again pulled over her face, concealing the emotions that had surfaced the night before. She seemed different today—more distant, if that was even possible.

  “We’re not staying here,” Meilin said flatly without looking at him. “Gather your things.”

  Wei swallowed his exhaustion, reaching for the broken sword at his side. The blade was jagged and worn, barely resembling the once-gleaming weapon his father had wielded. Yet he couldn’t part with it. Not yet. It was all he had left of his family.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

  “To the next training ground,” Meilin replied. “If you think crossing a stream was difficult, you’ll find today’s trial… illuminating.”

  Wei’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t question her further. He had learned enough in these few days to know that Meilin rarely gave away anything useful without good reason. The journey through the forest was long and silent, the trees growing thicker as they ventured deeper into the wilderness. It wasn’t long before the sunlight was nearly blotted out entirely, leaving them in a dim, shadowy world where the sounds of their footsteps echoed unnervingly.

  After hours of walking, they came upon a clearing. In the center stood an ancient temple, covered in vines and moss, its stone walls cracked and crumbling. The entrance was marked by two large stone statues of warriors, each holding a sword crossed over their chests. The sight of the temple sent a shiver down Wei’s spine—it radiated an eerie sense of foreboding, as though the temple itself was alive and waiting.

  “This is the Temple of Silent Echoes,” Meilin said, her voice low. “It’s been abandoned for centuries, but it holds secrets that can only be unlocked by those who are worthy.”

  Wei’s eyes narrowed as he studied the structure. “What kind of secrets?”

  Meilin’s lips twisted into a knowing smile. “One’s power is not just in the strength of their body, but the strength of their mind. Today, you’ll face the voices of the past.”

  Wei was about to ask what that meant, but Meilin gestured for him to follow her toward the entrance. The heavy stone doors creaked open with a sound that made Wei’s heart jump. Inside, the air was cold and stale, the darkness almost tangible. The only light came from the faint, flickering flames of torches mounted along the walls, casting long shadows that danced as they moved.

  As they ventured deeper into the temple, Wei began to hear it—a faint whispering, like the sound of wind passing through narrow cracks. But there was no wind here. The whispers grew louder with each step, but Wei couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if the voices were just beyond his understanding, yet they filled his mind with unease.

  Meilin stopped in front of a large circular chamber at the heart of the temple. The floor was covered in intricate carvings, depicting scenes of battle, loss, and triumph. At the center of the room stood a pedestal, upon which lay an ancient scroll, bound in black cloth.

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  “This is where your next trial begins,” Meilin said, her voice echoing in the vast chamber. “The whispers you hear are the echoes of those who once trained here. Some passed, others failed. But all of them left something behind.”

  Wei felt a chill run down his spine. “What do I have to do?”

  “You will read from the scroll,” Meilin said, her eyes narrowing. “The moment you open it, the voices of the past will become clear. They will test you, challenge you. They will show you your deepest fears, your greatest regrets. And if you’re not strong enough to face them…”

  She let the words hang in the air.

  Wei took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He was no stranger to fear. He had faced it when the Fallen Night Sect razed his village. He had faced it when he held his parents’ lifeless bodies. But the idea of confronting those memories again—of reliving the pain—made his stomach churn.

  Still, he had no choice.

  Steeling himself, Wei stepped forward and reached for the scroll. His fingers trembled as he unwrapped the black cloth, revealing the ancient parchment beneath. The moment he unrolled it, the whispers stopped.

  For a brief moment, there was silence. Then, the voices returned—louder, clearer, and more menacing.

  “Weak.” “You couldn’t save them.” “It’s all your fault.”

  Wei’s breath caught in his throat. The voices echoed in his mind, relentless and unforgiving. He could hear his mother’s voice, crying out in fear. His father’s voice, filled with pain. And the screams of the villagers as they were slaughtered one by one.

  “No…” Wei whispered, his hands gripping the scroll tightly. “No, I… I couldn’t…”

  But the voices didn’t stop.

  “You were too slow. Too weak. You let them die.”

  The images flooded his mind—flashes of fire, of blood, of his father standing in front of him, sword raised, only to be cut down in a single, brutal strike. Wei squeezed his eyes shut, but the memories wouldn’t go away. The pain, the guilt, the helplessness—it all came rushing back, drowning him.

  He fell to his knees, the weight of the scroll heavy in his hands.

  “Focus,” Meilin’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “This is a test of your will. If you can’t control your mind, the voices will consume you.”

  Wei clenched his teeth, his body shaking. He didn’t know how to make it stop. The guilt, the fear—it was too much. It had always been too much.

  “You are nothing.” “You will never be strong enough.”

  “I’m sorry…” Wei whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry…”

  Tears burned at the edges of his eyes, but he forced them back. He couldn’t break. Not here. Not now. He couldn’t let the voices win.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Wei focused on the scroll in his hands. The voices continued to assault him, but he fought to push them back. He focused on the words written on the parchment—ancient, unreadable symbols that seemed to shift and twist before his eyes. But as he concentrated, something began to happen.

  The symbols on the scroll glowed faintly, pulsing with an eerie light. And in that moment, the voices began to fade, their taunts growing weaker, more distant.

  Wei’s breathing slowed, his mind clearing bit by bit. The weight of his guilt was still there, but it wasn’t suffocating him anymore. He could think. He could breathe.

  Slowly, he rose to his feet, his grip on the scroll steady.

  Meilin watched him from the edge of the chamber, her expression unreadable. “Not everyone survives the echoes,” she said quietly. “But you did.”

  Wei didn’t respond. His mind was still reeling from the experience, but he had survived. He had faced the voices, the memories, the pain—and he had come out the other side.

  But even as he stood there, he knew the voices hadn’t left him completely. The pain was still there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to strike again.

  As they left the temple and stepped back into the forest, Wei glanced at Meilin, his voice barely a whisper. “How did you survive the echoes?”

  For the first time, Meilin’s mask of indifference cracked. Her eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, Wei saw something in her gaze—something haunted, something broken.

  “I didn’t,” she said softly.

  Wei’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t ask any more questions. There was more to Meilin than she let on, more than he could ever understand.

  And as the two of them continued their journey, the weight of the voices still lingered in the back of Wei’s mind, a reminder of the past he could never escape.