The shift from fire to water was jarring.
Lei stepped through the glowing portal and was instantly submerged—not in liquid, but in a world suspended in shimmering, weightless silence. Blue light filtered through the translucent sky, and ethereal jellyfish drifted by like spirits.
There was no ground, no sky. Just a vast, endless sea of memory.
A voice echoed in the stillness:
"Water reflects… even what you wish to forget."
Before him, the water rippled—and scenes from his past floated forward like ghosts.
He saw his mother's face, lined with sorrow, whispering apologies as she left him at the sect gates. He saw himself—years younger—kneeling in the snow, bleeding, after failing his first spirit test. He saw Lin Yue walking away from him once, saying, "I can't follow someone who doesn't know who he is."
Lei closed his eyes. The water swirled around him, not drowning, but enveloping.
"You want to rise," the voice whispered, "but what do you anchor yourself to?"
His fists clenched.
"I anchor myself to those who still believe in me," he said. "Even if I forget... they remind me."
A pulse of warmth radiated through the waters. The illusions faded. And as Lei opened his eyes, he saw a path forming—light etched across the deep blue.
The portal to the Realm of Earth awaited.