Kael was taken through the magical door once more, passing into the pocket dimension beyond the forge. The night was still young, and there was much that still needed to be said to him.
This place did not creak like the city.
It was peaceful.
The air smelled of fresh grass and trees, so similar to his hometown that his chest tightened. Birds sang softly in the distance. Though it had been dark when he stepped through the door, here it was not. The sky glowed with a gentle brilliance, as though the sun never truly set, bathing the land in constant, tempered light.
That alone made it unfamiliar.
Old Master Ren stood beneath a massive tree whose trunk was wide enough that ten people would struggle to encircle it. He waited there calmly, shaded by its vast canopy, a kind smile resting naturally on his face.
He called for Kael.
Not loudly.Not sharply.
The Tenth Senior Brother walked beside Kael, quieter than usual, his broad presence acting as a shield without effort.
Old Master Ren rested a hand against the tree's bark.
"Before we go further," he said gently, "you should understand something."
Kael looked up.
Ren's expression was calm. He contemplated for a long moment, then sighed softly.
"You were never meant to be found easily," Ren said. "Even your insistence on apprenticing here is a twist of fate." He paused. "That is both a blessing… and a danger."
Kael hesitated, then asked softly, "Found by who?"
Ren smiled faintly.
"By anyone who matters."
The Tenth Senior Brother shifted, scratching the back of his head. He crouched slightly so his massive frame would not feel overwhelming.
"I'll wait outside," he said with forced cheer. "Master talks better without me cluttering the air."
He rapped his knuckles against the tree once, then turned and walked away without ceremony, disappearing into the forest as though swallowed by the greenery.
Kael stepped closer.
Stone gave way to soil beneath his feet, soft and dark. Cool air brushed his face, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Light filtered through towering trees, fractured by leaves that stirred without sound.
A forest.
Before them stood a log cabin.
Simple.Solid.Old.
Smoke curled lazily from its chimney.
Kael stopped walking.
His breath caught.
Ren noticed immediately.
"This place does not exist where others can see it," Ren said quietly. "You may think of it as… a pocket the world forgets to look into."
Kael swallowed.
"Is this… cultivation?" he asked.
Ren shook his head. "No." Then, after a pause, "And yes. Cultivation is the path. This is merely one of its results."
Ren began walking, and Kael followed. Each step felt lighter than it should have, as if the ground itself yielded just a fraction beneath his feet.
Ren opened the cabin door.
Warmth greeted them—woodsmoke, dried herbs, clean water. A sturdy table stood at the center. Shelves lined the walls, filled not with weapons or pills, but books, jars, and tools worn smooth by long use.
This was not a lair.
It was a home.
Ren gestured for Kael to sit.
Kael obeyed.
Only then did Ren sit across from him.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Silence, here, did not press.
It waited.
"Kael," Ren said at last, his voice soft enough not to disturb the air, "do you know why I did not notice you in the city for three years?"
Kael shook his head.
"I thought… you just didn't see me."
Ren's eyes softened.
"No," he said gently. "I could not."
Kael frowned.
Ren leaned forward slightly.
"Your body does not announce itself to the world," he explained. "It does not register where it should. To cultivators, to formations, to the laws that sort existence… you are blurred."
Kael's fingers curled against his sleeve.
"That is why no one tried to test your aptitude properly," Ren continued. "Why your presence never drew attention unless you stood beside someone stronger."
Kael remembered the guards.
The shop.
The way eyes slid past him unless forced to stop.
"Is that bad?" he asked.
Ren did not answer immediately.
"It is good," he said finally, "because it hides you."
Then, more gently, "It is bad… because it means the world rejected you before you were old enough to argue."
Kael stared at the table.
After a moment, he asked, "Is that why I can't cultivate?"
Ren nodded.
"Yes."
Kael did not flinch.
He had already accepted that truth.
Ren watched him carefully.
"However," Ren continued, "that is not the only reason you are… unusual."
Kael looked up.
Ren's gaze did not sharpen. It did not probe.
It asked permission.
"You are not alone inside your body," Ren said.
Kael's heart skipped.
"I don't mean possession," Ren added immediately. "Nor invasion."
Kael swallowed. "Then what?"
Ren placed two fingers on the table.
"You were born with one soul," he said. "But another followed you."
Kael's chest tightened.
"The second has no consciousness," Ren continued calmly. "No will. Only memory."
Images flashed—words he did not understand, worlds that did not belong here. Concepts like planets, engines, laws written in numbers instead of Dao. Movies. Cars. Airplanes that flew without wings.
Blue Star.
University.
Failure.
Loneliness.
A death that was quiet and unnoticed.
Kael's breath wavered.
"That soul is dissolving," Ren said softly. "Slowly. Feeding your own without structure."
Kael whispered, "That's why my memories are broken."
"Yes."
Ren studied him.
"If left this way," Ren said, "you will grow with fragments. Half-understandings. You will never fully know who you are—or why you think the way you do."
Kael's voice was very small. "Can you fix it?"
Ren nodded.
"I can help you merge them," he said. "Not as two minds. But as nourishment. Your soul will grow dense. Stable. Stronger than most."
Kael hesitated.
"Will… will it hurt?"
Ren smiled gently.
"Yes."
Kael nodded once.
"Will you… look?" he asked quietly.
Ren shook his head at once.
"No," he said firmly. "Your memories are yours. I do not wish to know your origin."
Kael's shoulders loosened a fraction.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked.
Ren leaned back.
"Because I would like to take you as my disciple," he said. "But before that, there are two tests."
Kael waited.
"If you pass the first," Ren continued, "I will give you something extremely valuable."
Old Master Ren's gaze drifted briefly to Kael's arm—to the stump where his hand should have been.
Kael's breath caught.
A thought surfaced, sudden and terrifying.
Was that what the old man meant?
Ren studied him for a long moment.
"You may leave, if you wish," Ren said softly. "We will not bind you. All I can offer you is a home—even if only temporary."
He sighed, eyes distant.
"I have lived for countless years. I once promised myself I would take only ten disciples." He smiled faintly. "But after seeing you… what is one more?"
Ren's voice grew warmer.
"Once you are my disciple, you will be closer to me than a son. All my disciples walk their own paths, yet there is always somewhere they may return to. Even now, if they are beyond my reach, I will still help if I can."
He looked at Kael steadily.
"I do not know where you come from. I do not wish to know—yet. If one day you choose to share, I will listen. I will shoulder that burden as your master."
Then, quietly, "But first… two tests. They will be hard. Extremely hard."
Kael looked around the cabin.
At the warmth.
At the silence.
At the forest that did not judge.
At a place that accepted him without asking what he could give in return.
His throat tightened.
"I… don't have anywhere else," he admitted.
Ren nodded, as though he had known all along.
"That is enough," he said.
He stood.
"Rest today," he added gently. "Tomorrow, we begin preparation."
Kael nodded.
As Ren turned away, Kael asked one last question.
"Will I ever go home?"
Ren paused at the door.
"One day," he said softly, "you will understand what that question truly means." He added, even more gently, "When that day comes, you will have two homes—your place of birth, and the home of your master."
He smiled faintly. "Sleep now, little one. You will need it."
The door closed.
Kael sat alone in the cabin.
He felt safe.
He felt afraid.
He missed his parents so badly it hurt.
And yet—
For the first time since the city swallowed him—
He was not invisible.
Only four people had ever truly seen him:the old baker, the man who gave him scraps, the Tenth Senior Brother… and Master Ren.
That night, Kael lay beneath a roof that did not leak, breathing air scented with grass and old oak. It felt like home.
Quiet acceptance settled into his bones.
Not because he trusted the world.
But because, for now, he was too small to fight it.
And the world, at last, had stopped pushing him away.