Ruo Xuan took a moment to consider. The thought of retreating to the mountain was tempting. There, he could lose himself in training, guiding the younger disciples, sparring until his body ached and his mind was too tired to think. But there was also something about the city, with its energy and movement, that kept his senses sharpened. It was in these moments—amidst the noise and distractions—that he could almost forget the gnawing emptiness left behind by the past.
Almost.
"We'll return soon," Ruo Xuan replied, his voice composed, though his mind was anything but. "But first, there is one more place we must visit."
Zhang Wei nodded dutifully, though Ruo Xuan could sense the subtle shift in the boy's energy. He was hesitant to ask, but his curiosity lingered just beneath the surface.
"Master..." Zhang Wei ventured cautiously after a pause. "That man from earlier... did you know him?"
Ruo Xuan stiffened at the question, his grip tightening slightly on the hilt of his sword. He hadn't expected Zhang Wei to ask, but the boy had always been perceptive.
Ruo Xuan's response came slowly, measured. "He is of no concern, Zhang Wei. The past has a way of catching up with us when we least expect it. But it is the present we must focus on."
Zhang Wei frowned slightly but didn't press further. He was a good disciple, always respectful of boundaries. Still, the unease in his voice lingered. "If he ever becomes a problem, Master, we will deal with him together."
Ruo Xuan felt a strange warmth at the boy's words. Zhang Wei's loyalty was unwavering, but it wasn't Tian Kuo who posed a threat. The real threat was the emotion Tian Kuo stirred within him, the weakness he feared would unravel all the carefully built walls around his heart.
"We will deal with what comes in time," Ruo Xuan said, his voice softening. "But for now, let's finish our task."
Zhang Wei fell silent after that, and the two continued through the city. Yet no matter how far they walked, no matter how much Ruo Xuan tried to focus on their mission, Tian Kuo's presence clung to him like a shadow. He had spent years convincing himself that he had moved on, that the wounds of their past had healed. But now, in the wake of their brief encounter, it felt as though those wounds had been torn open once again.
I must forget him, Ruo Xuan told himself, more fiercely this time. He is nothing but a reminder of the past, of things I can never reclaim.
As the day drew on, Ruo Xuan pushed his thoughts of Tian Kuo deeper down, focusing instead on Zhang Wei and the task at hand. Yet no matter how hard he tried, the memory of that voice—so familiar, so filled with longing—echoed in the back of his mind.
Tian Kuo had once been a part of his life, and now, after all these years, he had reappeared like a specter from a forgotten dream. Ruo Xuan had sworn to himself that he would never allow his past to control him again. He had sworn to forget.
But as the sun began to set over the city, casting long shadows on the streets, Ruo Xuan realized something unsettling.
Some things could never truly be forgotten.
The journey back to the mountain was one of quiet reflection. The familiar sound of the wind rushing through the leaves, the distant chirping of crickets, and the subtle rustling of small animals in the underbrush were all guiding Ruo Xuan. His feet moved swiftly along the path, the uneven terrain no challenge to him, though Zhang Wei's steps were less certain. The young disciple trailed a few paces behind, watching his master with a mix of awe and concern.
Ruo Xuan had never needed a cane, never needed anything to help him navigate the world after he lost his sight. His senses had sharpened with time, his perception of his surroundings growing keener with each passing year. The whispers of the wind, the faintest vibrations in the ground—each was a thread in the tapestry that allowed him to "see." It was his way of adapting, his way of surviving.