THE RULER OF MAP

The echoes of the Obsidian Caves still lingered in Zhang Xin's mind as he and Mingyue exited the cavern. The air outside was cold, but it felt like a breath of fresh air after the suffocating silence of the cave. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the jagged cliffs around them.

Zhang Xin paused for a moment, taking in the vastness of the land before him. The landscape had changed again, but this time, it wasn't as oppressive. The path ahead was unclear, but for the first time in a long while, Zhang Xin didn't feel lost. The weight that had settled on his chest during the vision seemed to lift, and his steps felt a little lighter.

Mingyue walked ahead, his expression as unreadable as ever. But there was a subtle change in the way he carried himself—a slight shift in his posture, as if he, too, had undergone a transformation within the cave's walls.

"Do you feel it?" Zhang Xin asked, his voice low but steady.

Mingyue turned his head slightly, his piercing gaze falling on Zhang Xin. "What do you mean?"

"The weight of the past," Zhang Xin said, his voice full of understanding. "It's… lighter now. I feel like I've shed something."

Mingyue gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "The truth always carries a weight, Zhang Xin. But it also brings clarity. You have passed the trial of the Obsidian Caves. The next trial will be different, but it will require the strength you have gained here."

Zhang Xin nodded in return, though part of him wasn't entirely sure what to expect from this new trial. The Obsidian Caves had been a trial of the mind, but the path ahead seemed to promise something else. It was as though the journey was starting to unravel itself in front of him, revealing more than he had ever imagined.

They continued their journey through the mountain range, the landscape becoming more desolate the further they traveled. The cliffs grew steeper, and the air, despite its initial freshness, became heavy once more. There was a sense of impending change, but Zhang Xin couldn't place why.

As they came upon a small clearing, Mingyue suddenly stopped. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes narrowed as if sensing something unseen.

"Something's ahead," Mingyue muttered under his breath.

Zhang Xin immediately tensed, his instincts screaming that they weren't alone. "What is it?"

Before Mingyue could answer, a figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, lean man cloaked in black. His face was partially obscured by a mask, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity.

Zhang Xin instinctively reached for his weapon, but Mingyue's hand stopped him.

"Do not act rashly," Mingyue warned, his voice low but firm.

The masked figure stepped closer, his footsteps silent on the rocky ground. "Mingyue," he said, his voice smooth, almost melodic. "It's been a long time."

Zhang Xin's gaze flickered between Mingyue and the stranger. The recognition in Mingyue's eyes was clear, but it was laced with something else—a hesitation, perhaps even unease.

"Zhen," Mingyue's voice was sharp, but there was an unmistakable flicker of emotion there. "What are you doing here?"

The masked man—Zhen—smirked, his eyes gleaming with an unspoken challenge. "I've come for him," he said, nodding toward Zhang Xin.

Zhang Xin's heart skipped a beat. "Me?" he asked, his voice tightening with suspicion. "Why?"

Zhen's smile deepened. "You've crossed paths with Mingyue, haven't you? Then you must know that nothing is as it seems."

Mingyue's hand went to the sword at his side, his posture tense. "Enough of your games, Zhen. Leave now, or face the consequences."

Zhen chuckled darkly, stepping forward as if the tension in the air didn't bother him. "Oh, Mingyue, always so serious. You should know by now that the consequences of your actions are never as simple as you think. I've waited too long for this moment."

Zhang Xin's mind raced. Who was this man? And why did Mingyue seem so uneasy around him? The atmosphere was thick with unspoken history, a past that Zhang Xin didn't understand. But the more Zhen spoke, the more he felt the unease creeping into his own chest.

"What do you want with me?" Zhang Xin demanded, his voice betraying his confusion and growing anger. "I've done nothing to you."

Zhen's gaze flickered to Zhang Xin, and for a moment, the playful arrogance in his eyes dimmed. "You've done more than you know, boy. More than either of you realize."

Zhang Xin stiffened, his heart pounding in his chest. "What are you talking about?"

Mingyue stepped forward, his presence imposing. "This has nothing to do with you," he said to Zhen, his voice carrying an edge of finality. "Leave."

But Zhen didn't retreat. Instead, his lips curled into a sinister grin, and his hand moved to his side. With a swift motion, he removed the mask, revealing a face Zhang Xin knew all too well—an older, crueler version of someone from his past.

"Do you remember me, Zhang Xin?" Zhen asked, his voice low and dripping with malice.

Zhang Xin's blood ran cold.

It was him. The man who had destroyed everything—the one who had torn his world apart. The face before him was the same, but older, more dangerous.

"You—!" Zhang Xin gasped, his voice breaking as memories of his childhood flooded back with a rush of anger and disbelief.

Zhen's smile widened, and for a brief moment, Zhang Xin saw something in his eyes—something cold, calculating. "Yes, Zhang Xin. I've been waiting for this moment for years. But now, we'll see if you can handle the truth."

Before Zhang Xin could respond, Mingyue moved, faster than Zhang Xin could track, his sword drawn in an instant. The clash of steel echoed through the air, and the battle began.

Zhang Xin's mind was reeling, but his body moved on instinct. His hand went to his sword, and in the next moment, he was thrust into the chaos of the fight. And now, he would have to face him.

The weight of the past had returned in full force.