Several days had passed since Wu Meng was left in his cell. The cold stone walls and iron bars had become all too familiar. Aside from the occasional visit from the silent jailer, he hadn’t seen or heard anyone. His days blended into each other, filled with frustrating attempts to cultivate, and endless questions swirling through his mind. He was beginning to wonder if they had forgotten about him.

Sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, Wu Meng sighed heavily. “Is anyone even out there? Can anyone hear me?”

To his surprise, a raspy, gravelly voice answered, echoing softly through the darkness of the hallway. “Of course, boy. I hear you... and so does the darkness.”

Wu Meng jolted upright, scanning the space around him, though the voice’s source remained hidden. “Who... who’s there?”

The voice let out a dry chuckle. “Ten meters to your left, boy. You can't see me, but I'm here.”

Wu Meng squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the figure. “Who are you?”

“Who am I? Now that’s a question that requires a lifetime to answer,” the voice rasped cryptically. “Who are any of us, really? Merely travelers in the vast expanse of existence.”

Wu Meng frowned. “I’m... Wu Meng. You’re...?”

“Names are fleeting,” the voice said. “As fleeting as the wind, as fleeting as life itself.”

Wu Meng scratched his head. “Okay, right... but what are you doing here? How long have you been locked up?”

There was a long pause before the raspy voice responded. “Does time not bend to the whims of the universe? A day, a year, a century—what is time to one who understands its futility?”

Wu Meng blinked, trying to make sense of the old man’s words. “So... that’s a long time, I guess?”

A laugh, low and almost eerie, drifted from the man’s cell. “You could say that, boy. You could say that.”

Wu Meng shifted his position, a mix of curiosity and frustration bubbling up inside him. “Do you know why I can’t cultivate?”

The voice responded slowly, almost as if it was drawing out each word. “Cultivation... yes. It is the art of reaching beyond the stars, into the very fabric of existence. It is the path that leads you closer to understanding... but understanding of what? What you seek... that is for you to discover.”

Wu Meng opened his mouth to ask another question, but a loud, exasperated voice cut through the conversation.

“Oh, please! Don’t listen to this old fool’s rambling. He could talk circles around you for days and not say anything useful!” The new voice was crisp and clear, with a distinctly youthful tone. It came from a cell further to the left, just beyond the old man’s.

Wu Meng blinked in surprise. “Who’s that?”

“Me?” the female voice said with a laugh. “Just someone locked up in this hellhole, same as you. The name’s Jin. And if you want real answers, you should ask me.”

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Wu Meng leaned closer, intrigued. “What do you know about cultivation?”

Jin’s voice took on a smoother, more confident tone. “I know plenty. For starters, you’re probably here because they saw potential in you. And potential is a dangerous thing around here. The sect wants to control it.”

“Control it? How?” Wu Meng asked, eager to learn more.

“By keeping you under their thumb. By making you dependent on their teachings,” Jin said, his voice dripping with disdain. “But listen, kid. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” Wu Meng echoed, his curiosity piqued.

“That’s right. Get me out of here, and I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Techniques they won’t show you, secrets the elders guard like treasure. I could make you stronger than anyone in this sect.”

Wu Meng hesitated. “You want me to help you... escape?”

Jin chuckled softly. “Of course. Do you really think you’ll last long in here without allies? The sect won’t let you just walk out once they’ve sunk their claws into you. But with me, you’ll have a fighting chance.”

Wu Meng’s mind raced with possibilities. “And how exactly do I help you escape?”

“I’ll walk you through it,” Jin replied. “It’ll be easy. And once we’re out, you’ll have everything you need to make it in this world.”

Before Wu Meng could respond, the raspy voice of the old man interjected again. “The promises of the wicked are as sweet as honey... until the poison reveals itself.”

“Oh, shut it, old man,” Jin snapped, his tone turning venomous. “You’ve been rotting in here for ages. What do you know about the real world?”

Wu Meng’s head spun with the conflicting voices. He wasn’t sure who to trust. Could this Jin girl really help him, or was she just another prisoner with her own agenda?

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor, drawing closer. Lian Hua’s familiar silhouette appeared in the dim light as she approached Wu Meng’s cell.

“It’s time,” Lian Hua said, unlocking the door. “You’re being moved.”

Wu Meng stood, rubbing his wrists as he exited the cell. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” she replied curtly.

As they passed the cells, Wu Meng glanced to his left, expecting to see the old man from earlier. But what he saw stopped him in his tracks. The man sitting in the cell wasn’t old at all. He was a young man, no older than twenty, staring blankly into the distance with hollow, vacant eyes.

“That’s... him?” Wu Meng asked, incredulous. “But... he sounded like...”

Lian Hua nodded, her voice quiet. “He’s been here for years. They say he lost himself a long time ago, his mind shattered. He never says a word unless someone speaks first.”

Wu Meng swallowed hard, his mind spinning. “But he sounded so... wise.”

Lian Hua raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, leading him forward. As they passed the next cell, Wu Meng glanced over and spotted the source of the other voice—Jin. Except it wasn’t a young woman at all, as he had imagined. It was a tall, muscular man with sharp features, grinning wickedly as he lounged against the bars.

“Surprised, aren’t you?” Jin called out, his voice shifting seamlessly from the smooth tone of a young woman back to his own. “I can do a lot more than just talk. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Wu Meng’s blood ran cold as he quickly turned away. Lian Hua glanced at him. “That’s Jin. He’s dangerous, and he’s locked up for a reason. He’s mastered a rare set of art. He can both manipulate his vocal cords and alter his appearance to a certain degree. He... let’s just say he’s done things that got him imprisoned here. Best to avoid him.”

Wu Meng’s steps faltered slightly, the weight of his earlier conversations pressing down on him. He had been completely fooled by both voices. His mind raced, trying to piece everything together.

As they continued walking, the lesson dawned on him. Things aren’t always as they seem. Don’t trust appearances.

For the first time, Wu Meng realized just how little he knew about this world, its dangers, and the people in it.

As Wu Meng and Lian Hua exited the prison, the oppressive atmosphere of the underground corridors gave way to the open air.

The scent of sulfur and the heat from the volcano became stronger as they began to ascend the winding stone path leading toward the summit.

The higher they climbed, the more breathtaking the view became.

Below them, the entirety of the Half-Phoenix Sect spread out, the bustling courtyards and training grounds now far beneath them. Finally, they reached the top of the volcano, where a grand manor stood.

Except for two magnificent phoenix status, no one was standing guard next to the doors.