ARK SPIRIT

The moment Hao Nhien heard the sound, he immediately stepped back half a pace and pulled Tieu Lan behind him.

”Stay behind me.”

Clutching her basket tightly, Tieu Lan hurried back with him.

Before them, the inscribed stone slab slowly slid aside, revealing a narrow passage leading deep into the mountain. Darkness filled the opening. Only a faint current of cold air drifted out, carrying the smell of old stone and air that had been sealed away for far too long.

Tieu Lan instinctively caught hold of his sleeve.

”Young Master…”

Hao Nhien did not enter immediately.

He picked up a small stone and tossed it through the opening. It rolled across the floor, struck the wall a few times with dry clicks, then came to a stop.

Nothing emerged.

No unusual sound followed.

Hao Nhien examined the stone floor, the walls on both sides, and the ceiling of the passage. He could see no obvious signs of a mechanism, but that did not mean the place was safe.

Something hidden for an unknown number of years deserved caution.

After thinking for a moment, he turned to Tieu Lan.

”I’ll go in first. You stay here.”

Tieu Lan immediately shook her head.

”I won’t—”

”Tieu Lan.”

Hao Nhien’s voice lowered.

She stopped.

”If there’s danger inside, both of us entering will only mean both of us get trapped. If I’m not out within half an hour, go straight back to the boat and find Uncle That.”

Tieu Lan bit her lip, her hand still gripping his sleeve.

Hao Nhien looked at her.

”This isn’t the time to argue.”

Only after a while did she slowly let go.

”Then Young Master has to come back quickly.”

”I’m only going to take a look. If anything seems wrong, I’ll retreat immediately.”

Tieu Lan was still uneasy, but in the end she nodded.

Hao Nhien picked up a dry branch, tested its strength, then bent down and entered the passage.

It was not long.

After little more than ten steps, the narrow corridor opened into a small stone chamber.

Hao Nhien stopped at the entrance.

Several pale white stones embedded in the walls gave off a faint glow, enough for him to see everything inside. The chamber was only a few zhang across and almost entirely bare.

At its center lay an old meditation cushion.

On it sat a decayed skeleton.

The robe that had once covered the body had nearly turned to dust, leaving only a few gray-white scraps of cloth clinging to the bones.

Beside the skeleton rested a long sword in its sheath.

Not far from it lay a pale blue ring.

Apart from those three things, the chamber was almost empty.

Hao Nhien remained at the doorway for a long moment.

Only then did he slowly bow.

”This junior, Quan Hao Nhien, came here by chance and found this place only because of the words Senior left behind. If I have caused any offense, I ask Senior’s forgiveness.”

There was no reply.

Only a faint current of air slipping through a crack in the stone.

Hao Nhien finally stepped inside.

As he approached the cushion, the slight movement of air stirred the skeleton. One dry bone shifted from its place with a soft click.

Hao Nhien stopped.

Five hundred years before the mountains and rivers.

And in the end, only a skeleton remained in a stone chamber.

He did not know how powerful Nhat Kiem Tieu Dao had been in life, nor what cultivation realm the man had once reached.

But at least one thing was clear.

No matter how strong he had once been, this senior had ultimately failed to outlast his lifespan.

And before his death, what he had left behind was not a boast about his cultivation.

It was the words—

my wish remains unfulfilled.

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Hao Nhien looked at the sword beside him.

The sheath was old, yet showed no sign of decay. Its surface was silver-gray, without jewels or ornate decoration. Only a few simple cloud patterns had been carved into it.

For some reason, those sparse lines gave the sword a strangely open feeling, as though it disliked being bound by anything.

Hao Nhien reached out and lifted it.

The sword was lighter than he expected, but not hollow or insubstantial. Its weight was distributed with unusual balance. The moment it settled into his hand, his wrist naturally adjusted to a comfortable position.

Hao Nhien had never properly studied the sword.

Nor did he believe that simply holding a fine weapon meant he suddenly knew how to use it.

A sword that had once belonged to someone like Nhat Kiem Tieu Dao was even less something he had the right to casually call his own.

Perhaps the senior had deliberately left it behind for whoever found this place.

Whether Hao Nhien was truly suited to it was something only the future could answer.

He slowly drew the blade.

Shing.

A silver-white blade appeared beneath the pale light.

No rust.

No chips.

The blade was slender, but not fragile. Its lines were so clean that there seemed to be nothing unnecessary about it.

When Hao Nhien closed his hand around the hilt, he felt a peculiar sense of balance.

No killing intent.

No pressure.

No power flooding into his body.

Only an indescribable sense of openness, as though the sword itself had never liked being restrained by anything.

Hao Nhien studied it for a while longer.

He could not tell whether that feeling came from the sword, from the person who had once wielded it, or simply from the words still lingering in his mind.

He did not try to probe deeper.

Instead, he gently slid the sword back into its sheath.

Three faint characters were engraved there.

Tieu Dao Sword.

Hao Nhien memorized the name and set the sword aside before turning his attention to the pale blue ring.

Simple cloud patterns were carved around its surface.

The sight of it stirred a vague fragment within the scattered memories left by the former owner of this body.

A storage ring.

An item used to hold objects.

Hao Nhien was not sure how complete that memory was, nor whether the ring before him was truly such an object.

He had no intention of testing it inside the hidden chamber either.

This was something left behind by Nhat Kiem Tieu Dao. Hao Nhien had no idea whether it contained restrictions or some mechanism he did not understand.

Better to take it back to the boat and examine it carefully there.

He slipped the ring into an inner pocket of his robe, then looked around the chamber once more.

There was nothing else.

Hao Nhien returned to the skeleton.

This time, he said little.

He simply bowed deeply.

”I will remember the words Senior left behind. If one day I travel far enough, this sword will come with me and see a little more of the world.”

Hao Nhien straightened, strapped the Tieu Dao Sword across his back, and turned toward the exit.

Tieu Lan was still waiting outside.

The moment she saw him, she hurried forward. Her face was slightly pale from waiting, but once she saw that he was unharmed, the tension in her shoulders finally eased.

”Young Master!”

”I’m fine.”

Her eyes quickly fell on the sword across his back.

”That is…”

”Something Senior left behind.”

”Was there anything else?”

”A ring. We’ll look at it once we’re back on the boat.”

Tieu Lan’s eyes widened.

”A ring? The kind that can store things, like in the stories?”

Hao Nhien paused.

”You even know about that?”

Tieu Lan froze as well.

Her expression did not look like someone deliberately hiding something. It was more as though she herself had only just realized she had spoken of something without knowing exactly where the knowledge had come from.

”I…” She blinked. ”Maybe I heard Uncle mention it before.”

Hao Nhien looked at her for another moment.

A very brief one.

Then he did not ask further.

”Let’s go.”

Before leaving, he turned back toward the stone slab.

His hand touched the three words fated one.

A deep rumble sounded behind them.

The stone slab slowly slid back into place, sealing the hidden chamber until the cliff face looked whole again, as though nothing had ever existed behind it.

Hao Nhien stood there for a while.

If not for the Tieu Dao Sword on his back and the pale blue ring hidden inside his robe, even he might have wondered whether everything that had just happened had been a dream.

Tieu Lan walked beside him with her basket in her arms, occasionally glancing at the sword behind him.

At last, she asked,

”Young Master, that sword must be very powerful, right?”

”Probably.”

”Are you happy?”

Hao Nhien was silent for a moment.

”Yes.”

Tieu Lan tilted her head.

”But you don’t look very happy.”

Hao Nhien looked down toward the valley below.

”Because the person who left it behind is dead.”

Tieu Lan fell silent.

Hao Nhien slowed his steps.

”A man could stand here for five hundred years and still leave behind the words that his wish remained unfulfilled. If I take his sword and think only about gaining a treasure, that doesn’t feel right.”

Tieu Lan lowered her gaze to the four Willowleaf Grass plants in her basket.

”Then what will Young Master do?”

”Remember his words.”

”What words?”

Hao Nhien looked toward the distant sky.

”Roam the world. Follow your heart.”

Tieu Lan repeated softly,

”Roam the world… follow your heart…”

She fell quiet for a while, then hugged the basket a little closer.

The two of them returned to the old cave passage.

Hao Nhien was even more careful on the way down than he had been on the way up. He did not know whether opening the hidden chamber had caused some disturbance he had failed to notice, so he remained alert the entire way.

But everything was quiet.

Only their footsteps echoed through the stone passage.

By the time they emerged from the cave, the sun had climbed higher.

The white sand beneath the waterfall was still empty.

The lake remained clear.

Nothing seemed unusual in the surrounding forest.

Hao Nhien had just begun leading Tieu Lan away when a faint sensation suddenly arose within him.

Something was watching him.

There was no killing intent.

But the feeling was distinct enough to stop him.

Hao Nhien slowly raised his head.

High above them, on a rocky outcrop, an enormous white figure stood motionless.

Its fur was white as snow.

Its body stood taller than two grown men.

Dark red eyes looked down through the mist rising from the waterfall.

Calm.

No roar.

No threatening movement.

Hao Nhien recognized it immediately.

The Great White Ape.

Tieu Lan saw it too.

Her face went slightly pale, and her hand tightened around the edge of his robe, but she made no sound.

Hao Nhien remained still.

He did not draw the Tieu Dao Sword.

He did not circulate his true qi.

Nor did he run.

If the Great White Ape truly wanted to attack, the distance between them was nowhere near enough for him to escape.

A reckless movement now could only make things worse.

Man and ape stared at each other through the veil of water mist.

For a long time.

The Great White Ape did not roar.

It did not drive them away.

It did not approach.

Its dark red eyes remained on Hao Nhien, then seemed to pass briefly over the Tieu Dao Sword on his back.

Hao Nhien noticed.

But he had no idea what it meant.

After a while, the Great White Ape turned away.

Its enormous body moved with a strange lightness. In only a few steps, it climbed onto a higher stretch of rock and disappeared into the deep forest.

Only then did Tieu Lan slowly exhale.

”Young Master… was that really the Great White Ape?”

”Mm.”

”Why didn’t it drive us away?”

Hao Nhien continued looking at the place where the white figure had vanished.

”I don’t know.”

He could not be sure whether the Great White Ape had recognized the Tieu Dao Sword.

He did not even know whether its appearance had been a coincidence or whether it had been watching them all along.

But at least one thing had become clear.

Thanh Van Mountain was not as simple as he had once thought.

”Let’s return to the boat first.”

Tieu Lan immediately nodded.

The two of them followed the old path away from the waterfall.

The Tieu Dao Sword rested silently in its sheath across Hao Nhien’s back.

Inside his robe, the pale blue ring remained equally still.

Behind them, Thanh Van Falls continued pouring down just as it did every day.

But from this day onward, in Hao Nhien’s eyes, this place was no longer merely a training ground.

High above, the Great White Ape had long since vanished.