The ruins of the Silent Veil Sect lay nestled between two jagged cliffs, obscured by thick fog and wind-carved stone. Once a temple devoted to the art of concealment, silence, and spiritual clarity, now only broken pillars and moss-covered statues remained.
Wang Lin, Lian Hua, and Jin Tao stood before a shattered archway, its inscription barely readable:
> "Only silence speaks the truth of heaven."
Jin Tao muttered, "Creepy. I like it."
As they stepped inside, the air shifted — thick, heavy, and strange. Every sound felt muffled. Even their footsteps dulled, as if swallowed by the earth itself.
Lian Hua's blade was already drawn. "This place is still sealed by remnants of their techniques. Be careful."
Wang Lin closed his eyes, letting the Abduction Path stir inside him. Wisps of unseen energy moved — whispering fragments, threads of memory, pieces of sorrow.
Suddenly, the fog shifted.
From the shadows emerged translucent figures — monks and cultivators dressed in robes of deep gray, their faces featureless, mouths stitched shut.
Ghosts.
The spirits didn't attack. Instead, they knelt… facing Wang Lin.
A deep hum echoed through the ruins, and from within the temple's inner sanctum, a sealed door slowly creaked open.
Inside lay a hidden hall.
Carvings lined the walls — depictions of a lone cultivator with a black halo, standing defiant before thrones of light.
Wang Lin's eyes locked on a mural of that figure reaching toward the heavens, chains dragging behind him… and in his palm, a radiant sigil — the mark of the Abduction Path.
Lian Hua's voice was soft. "They worshiped him."
Jin Tao whistled low. "Or feared him so much, they couldn't look away."
At the end of the hall stood a floating crystal coffin. Within it, perfectly preserved, was a woman in white. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were folded over her chest — where the same sigil glowed faintly.
A plaque beneath read:
> "The Silent Matron — Last Witness of the Sovereign Thief."
Wang Lin stepped closer.
As his fingers brushed the glass… her eyes opened.
Not violently, not as an attack — but slowly, painfully, like someone waking from a thousand-year slumber.
She did not speak. Instead, her thoughts poured into their minds like ink across parchment.
> "You are him… and not. The world burns in cycles, and the thief returns in each. You are the echo… but you may yet be the flame."
Wang Lin staggered, images rushing through him — visions of war, a divine palace collapsing, the heavens shattering.
Then, silence.
The Matron's body turned to dust… leaving behind a scroll.
Lian Hua picked it up reverently.
Jin Tao read the title aloud. "The Ninth Seal of Heaven. That sounds… ominous."
Wang Lin nodded. "It's a technique. No, more than that… it's a warning."
From far above, thunder cracked. The skies themselves seemed to groan.
The Temple had felt the awakening.
And the Reclaimers were coming.