THE RULER OF MAP

In the dim light of the desolate valley, Zhang Xin moved slowly, wary of his surroundings. Ancient stones lay scattered around, casting long shadows in the moonlight. His senses were on edge, the air thick with an unsettling energy that made his skin prickle. The silence was profound, broken only by the soft echo of his own footsteps against the stone walls.

Suddenly, a surge of invisible force struck him, sending him stumbling back. His instincts kicked in, and he unsheathed his sword, holding it defensively as he scanned the surroundings. Then, a faint rustle caught his attention—a figure, seated high atop a boulder, watching him with a calm

intensity.

Zhang Xin called out, his voice echoing in the stillness. "Who are you?" he demanded, keeping his sword raised, his eyes sharp and unblinking. "And what is this place?"

The figure on the rock—a frail old man with an aura of wisdom and weariness—coughed softly, a dry, raspy sound that conveyed both age and exhaustion.

"Lower your sword, young one," the old man spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "I am no threat to you."

Zhang Xin hesitated but slowly lowered his weapon, curiosity replacing his caution. "Then why are you here?" he asked, looking at the old man with a mix of suspicion and intrigue.

The old man chuckled, though it quickly turned into a fit of coughing. "I am here because… I have no other place to be. This is where I have spent countless years, nurturing my powers. But my time is coming to an end."

Zhang Xin took a step closer, a flicker of compassion crossing his face. "Your… end? Is there no way to help you? No cure for what ails you?"

The old man shook his head slowly. "I am beyond healing. My purpose now is to pass down all I know to a worthy disciple before I am no more."

There was a long silence as Zhang Xin processed this. "Why would you choose me?"

The old man smiled, his eyes gleaming with a strange, otherworldly light. "Because… you have a pure heart, and an inner light. I have searched many lifetimes for someone like you." With a trembling hand, he extended a simple silver ring. "Take this. As my chosen disciple, you will carry on my legacy."

Zhang Xin hesitated, but something compelled him to reach out and take the ring. It felt cool and solid in his hand, yet it hummed with a quiet, unyielding power.

The old man's eyes softened as he watched Zhang Xin slip the ring onto his finger. "There is much I wish to teach you," he said, gesturing toward a river nearby. "Come."

They moved toward the river's edge, where the water flowed quietly under the moonlight. The old man stepped into the water, drawing his sword with a practiced elegance. With a small smile, he glanced back at Zhang Xin.

"Watch carefully," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "This technique is called… 'The Tree Blooms and the Water Drops Dance.'"

With a fluid, graceful movement, he lifted his sword, catching a handful of water droplets in the blade's wake. As he whispered the technique's name, the droplets began to shimmer in the moonlight, dancing like petals caught in a gentle breeze. Slowly, they gathered, merging with flower petals that seemed to materialize out of nowhere, swirling in a dazzling pattern around the old man's blade.

Zhang Xin's eyes widened as he watched, mesmerized. "It's… beautiful," he whispered.

The old man, focused, aimed his sword at a nearby stone. With a slight flick, the droplets and petals shot forward, striking the stone with a force that shattered it into fragments.

"How… how did you do that?" Zhang Xin breathed, his mind racing with awe and wonder.

"It's a skill born from balance and inner peace," the old man explained, his gaze still fixed on the stone's remnants. "You must be in tune with nature—only then can you control it."

Zhang Xin looked down at his own sword, feeling a surge of determination. "Will you teach me?"

The old man nodded, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Yes, but only if you are willing to dedicate yourself completely."

In that moment, a sense of peace washed over the old man, as if a burden had lifted from his shoulders. "Come with me," he said, leading Zhang Xin into a small, secluded room within the valley, filled with scrolls, relics, and artifacts of untold power.

As Zhang Xin looked around in awe, he turned to the old man. "Why… why give me all this? These techniques… these secrets?"

The old man placed a gentle hand on Zhang Xin's shoulder. "Because you are meant to be more than just a warrior. You are the one destined to save all people from the darkness… from the demons. You will bring light where there is only shadow."

A sense of gravity settled over Zhang Xin as he processed the old man's words. But before he could respond, the old man closed his eyes, a peaceful expression spreading across his face. Slowly, he began to fade, his form dissolving into a faint glow that surrounded Zhang Xin.

"Remember," the old man's voice echoed, even as his figure vanished completely. "The path of light is yours to walk. Go forth, Zhang Xin."

Zhang Xin stood in silence, clutching the scrolls and artifacts the old man had left behind, feeling a strange emptiness in his chest.

When he returned to his own world, he found Li Han waiting for him, concern etched on his face.

"Zhang Xin! You're back! What skill did you choose?"

Zhang Xin looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, the light technique that had been his teacher's final gift. "I… I chose the path of light."

Li Han nodded, though his eyes lingered on Zhang Xin as if sensing the gravity of the moment. Just then, Tang Cai Ji approached, his gaze sharp and perceptive.

"It is time," Tang Cai Ji said quietly. "You must return home."

As Zhang Xin, Li Han, and Lynn made their way back, Zhang Xin could feel a strange energy pulsing within him, a faint echo of the old man's power. It was as though his former mentor's spirit lingered, guiding him.

Finally, they arrived home, where Zhang Xin's grandfather awaited them. Zhang Xin wasted no time sharing the news of his success.

"I did it, Grandfather!" he said, pride shining in his eyes. "I'm officially Tang Cai Ji's disciple!"

The old man's face broke into a proud smile. "You've done well, my boy. But remember, this honor comes with great responsibility. The path you walk now is fraught with challenges."

"I know," Zhang Xin replied solemnly, nodding. "And I'm ready."

"Good," his grandfather said, his voice filled with wisdom. "Prepare yourself. Next month's competition is your first true test. It will be an opportunity for you to prove your worth to the Zi Xuan sect and to yourself."

Zhang Xin exchanged a glance with Li Han and Lynn, each of them filled with a shared determination. "We'll train hard," he said, his voice unwavering. "We won't let you down."

As night fell, the three young warriors gathered for a warm meal, their spirits lifted by the strength of their bond and the knowledge that they faced the future together. The challenges ahead were daunting, but they were united in their resolve.

As Zhang Xin looked around the table, a feeling of peace settled over him, the old man's words echoing in his mind. He was the one chosen to bring light to the darkness. And with his friends by his side, he knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.