The wind swept through the lifeless branches, casting eerie whispers throughout the forest. Yuan gripped the Sword of a Thousand Faces tightly as he walked, its weight a constant reminder of both his purpose and his lingering questions. Although the sword's discovery had been a breakthrough, it hadn't answered the gnawing mystery in his mind—the memory of a powerful enemy he could not recall.

Yuan paused, his fingers tightening around the hilt. "Yahuo," he murmured, "I know this blade is powerful, yet I still can't remember my last fight. The one where I... lost." The admission tasted bitter. A loss? For Yuan, it seemed inconceivable.

"Master," Yahuo's voice came quietly in his mind, steady but tinged with hesitation, "sometimes our minds choose to forget things that burden us. Perhaps remembering that battle isn't necessary for what lies ahead."

"No." Yuan's voice was cold. "This blade has the answers I seek. If it chose me, then it will reveal the truth."

They arrived at a dense part of the forest, where statues, ancient and worn, rose from the undergrowth. Their stone faces, though eroded, conveyed a sense of silent witness, as if they had seen centuries pass and kept all secrets to themselves. Yuan felt a strange pull, a sense that something in this place resonated with his unremembered past. He brushed his hand along the nearest statue, the sword humming softly in response.

A flash struck his mind. He saw himself on the ground, weaponless, an opponent looming over him. A mocking voice echoed faintly, "…pride… a sin easily punished…" But the vision faded just as quickly, leaving only fragments.

"Master," Yahuo's tone was edged with caution, "we have company."

A man emerged from the shadows, his attire adorned with the crest of the Sinasty Empire. His gaze fixed on Yuan with a mix of intrigue and hostility.

"Yuan Zecchin," he announced, drawing a sleek blade with a practiced hand. "I am Raito, second lieutenant of the Sinasty Empire. You've stirred enough trouble already. It's time to end this."

Yuan's eyes narrowed, holding his blade with renewed resolve. "I've heard enough threats for a lifetime. Draw your sword, Raito, and let's see who stands when this is over."

Raito lunged forward, his movements swift and lethal, but Yuan was ready. Their blades clashed, sending sparks into the shadowed air. The Sword of a Thousand Faces thrummed with power, each swing revealing new facets of its mysterious strength. Despite Raito's skill, Yuan's anger fueled him, granting him a speed and strength that caught his opponent off guard.

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With a final, decisive strike, Yuan disarmed Raito, sending his weapon flying into the shadows. The sword's tip pressed to Raito's throat, Yuan's voice barely a whisper. "Tell your lord this: I am coming for answers. And I will find them."

Under the weight of Yuan's blade, Raito's defiance wavered, but he forced a bitter smile, his gaze meeting Yuan's with a quiet intensity.

"You think answers will bring you peace?" Raito sneered, though his voice shook. "The empire you defy has secrets older than you can comprehend. You're nothing but a lost soldier chasing phantoms."

Yuan pressed the blade a fraction closer to Raito's throat, his eyes fierce. "Then let me chase them. I may be lost, but I'm not blind. Every step brings me closer to the truth."

Raito gritted his teeth, then nodded in defeat, knowing any further resistance would only shorten his life. Yuan removed the sword from his neck and watched as the man staggered back, his breathing uneven. "Go back to Azryen," Yuan commanded. "Tell him he'll face me again soon enough. And tell him I'll be armed with the sword he claimed I'd never wield."

Raito's face twisted with fear as he stumbled to his feet. He glanced once more at the Sword of a Thousand Faces, now glinting ominously in the moonlight, and then fled into the darkness without another word.

As Raito's footsteps faded into the silence of the forest, Yahuo's voice echoed in Yuan's mind.

"Master, if you pursue these memories, you may find things you cannot unsee. Are you prepared for that?"

Yuan's grip tightened. "If I was strong enough to win this blade, I'm strong enough to bear its memories."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and let the sword guide him. His mind filled with faint voices, flashes of faces and places unfamiliar yet hauntingly close. He saw fragments—a vast battlefield shrouded in mist, his own broken form lying prone in the dirt, and a towering figure with eyes as cold as iron. Yuan strained to hear the man's voice, a harsh whisper reverberating through his soul. "Pride… the greatest flaw of all."

Then, just as quickly, the vision vanished, leaving him reeling and panting as he clutched the sword.

"Azryen." The name rolled off his tongue like venom. The realization washed over him with the weight of a tidal wave. His forgotten opponent, the man who had bested him—the Emperor's successor, Azryen of the Sinasty Empire.

"So, I did lose…" Yuan muttered, a storm brewing within him. He could still feel the sting of defeat, the shame that had blotted out his memory. His fists clenched.

But Yahuo's voice steadied him. "Remember, Master. You're no longer who you were then. You have this sword now, and a purpose sharper than any blade."

Yuan turned his face to the shadows of the forest, determination blazing in his eyes. The path before him was no longer a vague hunt for power—it was a reckoning. The kingdom of Lazrya, the Sinasty Empire, Azryen himself—they would all face him. And this time, he would not fall.

In silence, Yuan continued his journey, each step guided by the dark and ancient strength of the Sword of a Thousand Faces.