The new path led upward—not through carved stairs or stone corridors, but through a tunnel of shifting light. As Lei and Lin Yue stepped in, the air thinned, and their surroundings dissolved into stars.
They were no longer underground.
They stood in a boundless space between worlds, where memory and reality bled into each other. Around them, fragments floated—visions of ancient cultivators warring against celestial beings, roots wrapping around heavenly towers, and storms devouring stars.
Lin Yue held tighter to Lei's arm. "This isn't a place. It's a memory... a sealed one."
The black shard pulsed from her pocket, lifting into the air. When it merged with the floating vision, the truth began to unfold:
Long ago, cultivators discovered a power that rivaled even the heavens—the Primordial Roots. It wasn't destruction they sought, but freedom from a cycle of reincarnation imposed by the gods. In response, the heavens declared war. The rebellion was crushed. The roots were scattered, sealed, and cursed as "fallen."
The Fallen Root was never corrupted.
It was chosen.
Because it refused to kneel.
Lei stepped forward as one of the floating scenes froze—showing a young man with storm-touched eyes and the same broken sword Lei now carried. His face… was nearly identical to Lei's.
Lin Yue gasped. "That's… you?"
"No," Lei whispered. "That was who I used to be."
A voice boomed from the stars.
"You've awakened the Echo. Now, you must choose: remain in the world of mortals… or rise to finish what you began lifetimes ago."
The space began to collapse. Lei clutched Lin Yue's hand, his heart thundered—not with fear, but purpose.
"I will rise," he said. "But I won't rise alone."
They shot upward through the collapsing realm, toward a world that now knew he was awake—and would come for him.