The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Chen Yu moved silently through the dense forest, the wind brushing gently against his skin like a whisper. His bare chest glistened with sweat, the cool air doing little to ease the heat coursing through his muscles. The Primal Heavenly Body Technique had strengthened his body in ways he could have never imagined back on Earth, and now, every fiber of his being was honed, powerful, and alive. His abs, well-defined from his rigorous training, tensed as he felt the hum of Qi resonating in his core. His muscular arms flexed with every movement, controlled and precise, like a predator stalking its prey.

Around him, the forest was alive with the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves, the branches swaying rhythmically. Each step he took was deliberate, his body moving with an almost ethereal grace as his earth-infused armor made him as light as the breeze. Chen Yu was a blur among the trees, the wind guiding him forward as his senses sharpened, reacting to every subtle shift in the environment.

The Armor he had crafted over the past week clung to his skin like a second layer, enhancing his agility while fortifying his defenses. It wasn't a bulky, heavy suit of stone—no, it was something more refined. The Qi-infused armor allowed him to remain light on his feet, his body moving seamlessly through the forest with the fluidity of a gale. As he darted past the underbrush, the wind seemed to move with him, guiding his movements and keeping his path clear.

His mind, however, was elsewhere.

Almost a week had passed since the battle—a battle where his inexperience had cost lives. The guilt gnawed at him every day since, and now, he returned to that very place. He wasn't here for training this time; he had to confront what had happened. To face the consequences of his amateur mistakes.

Finally, Chen Yu reached the clearing.

The wind seemed to die down as he stepped into the open, the forest behind him quiet, as if holding its breath. His chest heaved as he took in the sight before him—a battlefield long abandoned, but not forgotten. The bodies of the beasts he had fought alongside those cultivators were gone. The forest had claimed them, but the memory of that day hung heavy in the air, thick like a storm about to break.

His eyes, glowing faintly with the power of his Universal Eyes, scanned the area. The earth was disturbed, marked by deep gouges where the battle had raged. But there were no bodies. No signs of the cultivators he had inadvertently condemned to their fate. Only the faint, dried stains of blood marked their passing.

His heart tightened in his chest as he knelt, his fingers brushing against the loose soil. "I'm sorry…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind that had returned, softly rustling the leaves above. Guilt washed over him, but he forced himself to stand. He had to face whatever was left of them.

As he turned to leave, a sudden chill ran down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The wind stopped altogether, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. Chen Yu froze, his senses flaring as a familiar presence began to close in around him—a presence he hadn't expected but one he knew all too well.

He turned slowly, and there, drifting through the trees, was a faint, glowing figure.

It wasn't the ghost of a beast. It was something worse.

The translucent form of a cultivator—a young man, his face pale and ethereal—hovered a few meters away. His robes were tattered, the insignia of a sect Chen Yu didn't recognize, glowing faintly on his chest. The cultivator's eyes, once filled with life, were now empty, hollow, as if the soul had long since been stripped away, leaving behind only this wraithlike shell.

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Chen Yu's breath caught in his throat. "No…" he whispered, backing up a step. He recognized him. One of the cultivators he had accidentally struck during the chaos of the battle. One of the three who had died.

The spirit's eyes met his, and a wave of emotion hit Chen Yu like a tidal wave. Guilt, regret, and the crushing weight of his mistakes. He had tried to help, but in his inexperience, he had only added to the carnage.

The spirit floated toward him, its presence cold and oppressive, but it didn't attack. Instead, it simply stared at Chen Yu with those empty eyes, as if waiting for something.

"I… I didn't mean to," Chen Yu said, his voice breaking. His hands trembled, his heart pounding in his chest as the memories of that day flashed through his mind. He had been careless, foolish. And this—this was the result.

Tears welled up in Chen Yu's eyes, and he dropped to his knees, his face twisted in anguish. "I'm sorry!" he cried, his voice hoarse. "I was reckless... I didn't know what I was doing. You… you didn't deserve this."

The spirit remained silent, hovering in place, but there was no malice in its gaze. If anything, there was a strange, melancholic peace in its presence, as though it had already accepted its fate.

Chen Yu clenched his fists, the tears falling freely now. "If I had been stronger... more careful... you would still be alive. I should have protected you."

A soft breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the faintest of whispers. Chen Yu's breath hitched as the spirit slowly extended a hand, translucent and glowing. The touch of the spirit's energy brushed against his forehead, and in that moment, he felt it—a sensation of understanding, of forgiveness.

The spirit didn't blame him.

"I…" Chen Yu whispered, barely able to speak. "You… forgive me?"

The spirit nodded once, its expression softening. Slowly, it pointed toward the horizon, where the mountains rose in the distance. Its lips moved, but no sound came out—yet Chen Yu understood the message.

As Chen Yu knelt, overwhelmed with guilt, the spirit slowly extended its hand. From the translucent palm, something materialized—a faint, glowing object. Chen Yu's eyes widened as he watched the spirit present him with a small emblem, its surface shimmering in the ethereal light.

The emblem was worn but still recognizable, etched with an intricate design of clouds and mountains. Chen Yu gingerly reached out, his hands trembling as he took the emblem from the spirit's hand.

"Azure Sky Sect…" Chen Yu whispered, recognizing the emblem's design. His voice was thick with emotion. The sect these fallen cultivators had belonged to—it had finally become clear. This was a token, not just of the sect, but of trust.

[System Notification: New Item Acquired – Azure Sky Sect Emblem.]

Chen Yu blinked at the notification, his heart racing. The emblem pulsed with faint spiritual energy in his hand, a lingering remnant of the spirit's connection to the Azure Sky Sect.

The spirit nodded, and though no words were spoken, Chen Yu could feel its message. The emblem wasn't just a token—it was a guide, a way forward. The spirit's lingering regret wasn't for revenge or retribution. It wanted him to take the emblem and return it to the sect, to pass on the knowledge of their fateful encounter.

"Your sect…" Chen Yu murmured, his voice shaky. "You want me to return this?"

The spirit's gaze remained fixed on him, but there was understanding in its eyes. It gestured once more to the horizon, where the towering mountains loomed in the distance, marking the location of the Azure Sky Sect.

Tears welled up in Chen Yu's eyes again as the spirit's form began to shimmer, growing more translucent. His heart clenched as he realized this would be their final moment together.

"I'm so sorry," Chen Yu choked, gripping the emblem tightly in his hand. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

The spirit smiled—a soft, almost imperceptible smile—and nodded in forgiveness. Slowly, it began to fade, its form dissolving into the morning light.

Chen Yu remained on his knees for several long moments, staring at the place where the spirit had stood. The weight of his guilt still pressed on him, but something inside him felt lighter. He had been forgiven, though the pain of his mistake would stay with him as a reminder.

He rose slowly, the emblem of the Azure Sky Sect held tightly in his hand. The wind picked up again, rustling through the trees, as though the forest itself was urging him onward.

"Thank you," Chen Yu whispered, his voice barely audible above the breeze.