Flint found herself being pulled through the air once again by Seedling, though their flight path now followed a much more disciplined route. Their previous wild adventures through the skies had earned them a stern lecture from an Inner Sect disciple about the importance of following designated flight paths, even for non-sword riders. "You could seriously injure someone flying so recklessly," the disciple had scolded. Seedling had agreed with obvious reluctance, her usual boundless energy now contained within invisible aerial corridors.

The wind whipped past them as they soared between the peaks, but Flint's attention was turned inward. Ever since that thin barrier around her brain had torn slightly during their previous flight, the world had become impossibly loud – not with sounds, but with feelings. Emotions leaked into her consciousness like water through a cracked vessel, each one distinct yet wordless.

She could sense the subtle shift in Seedling's excitement levels – a barely perceptible increase in her friend's joy whenever Spark was present compared to their time alone together. During meals, she caught the undercurrent of anxiety in Spark's voice when he asked about her recovered memories, his apparent casualness betrayed by the nervous energy that radiated from him like heat from a flame.

Yet amidst this cacophony of foreign feelings, Flint's own emotions remained remarkably steady. Even now, as they cut through the air at dizzying speeds, she could feel the Stasis Element natural aura seeping slowly into her mind, like morning dew collecting on a leaf. She waited patiently for that familiar peak in Seedling's happiness – those moments when her friend's joy became so infectious that it would trigger flashes of her past life's happier moments. Sometimes these memories were repeats, but each revisit brought new details into focus, like a painting slowly being restored.

One day's remembrance transported her to a training session with Sage South Rain. In this memory, shadows crawled across the ground from beneath her former disciple's feet as she gripped a hollow copper ring. The ring had been aimed at a puppet, which exploded into splinters when South Rain successfully executed the technique Flint had taught her. Their shared elation at the breakthrough felt as fresh as yesterday. This might be before South Rain had ever picked up a sword, Flint thought.

Flint closed her eyes, hoping to direct her mind toward memories of the man who resembled Spark. Lately, her recollections had been dominated by scenes with the sage-haired man she'd come to recognize as The Bamboo Sovereign. They had visited numerous mortal cities together, and these memories were invariably tinged with happiness, colored by The Bamboo Sovereign's infectious joy.

One memory surfaced with particular clarity – they were sharing a meal of white-cut chicken, and The Bamboo Sovereign had turned to her with amusement dancing in his eyes. "Look at us," he had said, "a bamboo stalk and a stone, sitting here enjoying chicken." His delight had been so pure it had made her want to laugh. They had shared countless such moments together: sampling street foods in bustling markets, watching puppet shows in town squares, taking shelter from sudden rain under shop awnings, and debating the merits of different tea varieties with passionate vendors.

It occurred to her, without any conscious effort on her part, that The Bamboo Sovereign could have been a lover from her past life. This idea didn't seem far-fetched and she found herself accepting it. However, she couldn't shake off the feeling that there might have been something between her and the man who looked like Spark, especially since he kept asking her about memories. She couldn't very well tell him she was remembering someone else.

Flint opened her eyes, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift between memory and reality. The wind still rushed past her ears as Seedling carried them through the designated flight path, but her mind lingered on the scene that had just unfolded in her memories. Perhaps that Spark-like man wasn't prone to happiness, she mused, the thought settling like a weight in her chest.

She closed her eyes again, letting the steady rhythm of their flight lull her back into the depths of memory. This time, when her past self's vision cleared, she found herself looking at the face of the man who resembled Spark. He sat before her, bare-chested, his torso wrapped in bandages. Was this from when he took that sword blow? No – these wounds were different. They were more scattered, more superficial, yet they covered his entire body like a cruel tapestry.

"I brought you the wine." The words emerged in her memory with startling clarity – Obsidian's voice, her voice, carrying none of the uncertainty she felt now.

The man remained silent, methodically pouring the wine into a leather flask at his side. He drank slowly, deliberately, each sip measured and precise. The silence stretched between them like a tangible thing.

"What's your name?" Obsidian's voice again, steady and unperturbed.

He doesn't look happy. Why am I remembering this particular moment? Flint wondered, the question echoing in her mind even as the memory continued to unfold.

"Blaze... Blaze Mighty... And you?" His voice, when it finally came, carried a roughness that seemed born of more than just physical pain.

"I don't know." The response from Obsidian came with surprising serenity, as if the absence of a name was the least of life's concerns.

A slight smile cracked through Blaze's somber expression, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Now that's interesting." His gaze in the memory seemed to pierce right through her, carrying an intensity that felt startlingly familiar.

"Your eyes are like obsidian," Blaze Mighty said, his smile warming further. "How about we call you Obsidian? What do you think?"

The memory dissolved abruptly, leaving Flint suspended between past and present, the wind still whistling past her ears as Seedling carried them through the air. She found herself reaching instinctively for more of the memory, trying to grasp at details that slipped away like water through her fingers. The feeling of connection lingered, though – that moment when Blaze Mighty had named her past self, his words carrying a weight that seemed to echo across lifetimes.

So that's how I got that name, she thought, the realization settling into place like a missing piece of a puzzle. She opened her eyes to the present, watching the peaks of the Celestial Sword Sect pass below them, each one a silent witness to both past and present stories unfolding in their shadow.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

———

"So you're saying you want to learn cultivation methods and secret arts related to the Stasis Element?" Sage South Rain's eyes widened with curiosity. While she had already learned of Flint's ability to absorb natural aura and begin cultivation, the element of choice surprised her. "Oh, I remember Obsidian telling me her first secret art was Shadow Element-based... I assumed you would start with that too."

She shifted in her seat, her fingers absently tracing the embroidered patterns on her sleeve. "However, I happen to know both. Obsidian taught me Shadow Element cultivation methods and secret arts, and I later learned some Stasis Element techniques on my own, since I have Gifted spirit roots in both Shadow and Stasis." Her voice carried a hint of pride, though tempered with reverence for her former master.

Flint nodded, her hands folded quietly in her lap. The memory of teaching South Rain the Shadow Element secret art was still fresh in her mind – a scene from her recovered memories – but she hadn't realized that Shadow, not Stasis, had been her own first element.

"The main issue is that I'm absorbing Stasis Element natural aura quite slowly," Flint explained, her voice measured and thoughtful. She raised her hand to her temple, as if trying to physically trace the barrier she was describing. "It's as if my mind was originally wrapped in a thin, invisible barrier of force. Now there's a crack in that barrier, allowing Stasis Element natural aura to be absorbed gradually."

She paused, her fingers dropping back to her lap as she searched for the right words. "But there's a cost," she continued, her brow furrowing slightly. "I can hear... 'emotions'. Not in words, just pure feelings – tension, joy, sorrow..." She gestured vaguely at the air around her. "It's rather noisy."

South Rain leaned forward, her scholarly interest clearly piqued. The silver hairpins in her dark hair caught the light as she moved, creating tiny dancing reflections on the wall. "Can you tell me more about these emotions you're sensing?" she asked, her voice gentle but eager. "Are they coming from specific people, or is it more like a general emotional atmosphere?"

"Well..." Flint ran a hand through her hair, a gesture of mild uncertainty. "It's all the emotions around me. It was overwhelming at first, but I'm gradually getting used to it."

South Rain nodded slowly, her brow still furrowed in concentration. Her fingers tapped thoughtfully against the wooden table as she spoke. "This kind of perception... I only developed it at Legend level. These emotions are essentially spiritual fluctuations from people." She straightened her posture, her voice taking on a more instructional tone. "That's how Stasis Element accumulation works – you become aware of more and more, but your heart remains calm. It's as if you're in the middle of interference while simultaneously being shielded from it."

She tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes studying Flint with renewed interest. "However, you shouldn't be able to sense these emotions when you're not actively absorbing Stasis Element natural aura. Have you tried stopping the absorption to see if it makes a difference?"

"What?" Flint's eyes widened in surprise. She knew she could only absorb Stasis natural aura when holding Seedling's hand, yet the flood of emotions continued to pour into her consciousness regardless. "No, that's not how it works for me... I can still hear them. Including your emotions – you're feeling very puzzled right now..."

South Rain's eyebrows shot up, and she leaned back slightly, her robes rustling with the movement. The reaction confirmed Flint's reading – surprise and confusion radiated from her former master like ripples in a pond. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly reassessing her understanding of the situation.

"How peculiar..." South Rain leaned forward, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her fingers absently traced the rim of her tea cup as she spoke. "This seems more like an innate ability." She lifted her gaze to meet Flint's eyes directly. "You mentioned a thin, invisible barrier that was preventing Stasis natural aura from entering your mind. Now I'm wondering if its true purpose was to shield you from the emotional bombardment around you."

She rose from her seat and began pacing slowly, her white robes flowing gracefully with each measured step. "I believe," she continued, turning to face Flint again, "that extremely intense emotions might cause you harm." She stopped pacing, her expression growing more serious. "You mentioned how the resentment force severely impacted your mind last time. I suspect if you encounter resentment force again, the consequences could be... unexpected."

South Rain returned to her seat, her movements deliberate and graceful. She touched her left ring finger, where a simple emerald storage ring sat. With a subtle gesture, two books materialized from a soft flash of light. She placed them carefully on the table between them, their covers worn but well-preserved. "I can teach you a Stasis natural aura cultivation method," she said, touching the first book's leather spine, "and then a Shadow-related one." Her finger moved to the second book, its cover adorned with faded silver runes. "You could try absorbing Shadow natural aura and see if you have any affinity for it. What do you think?"

Flint studied the two books laid out before her. The first bore the title "Frost Mind's Mirror" in elegant silver script, while the second was emblazoned with "Moonless Shadow Method" in characters that seemed to absorb the light around them.

She reached out, her fingers hovering over both books. A thoughtful expression crossed her face as she considered South Rain's offer. Her previous experience absorbing natural aura had always required physical contact with someone possessing the spirit root of the opposing element. Having Seedling with her was essential for obtaining the Stasis element. With her powerful Transcendent Flux spirit root, she was able to divide her intangible energy into both Flux and Stasis natural auras.

"Yes, I'd like to try both," Flint said, nodding slowly. She placed her fingers gently on the cover of "Moonless Shadow Method". With determination, she attempted the exercise once more, utilizing Spark's light spirit root to aid in absorbing the natural aura of the Shadow.

Flint withdrew her hand from the book's cover, letting it hover momentarily before settling back into her habitual pose, chin propped on her palm. Her eyes, usually steady and contemplative, flickered with a hint of curiosity as she turned to face South Rain.

"One more thing," she said, her voice measured and calm. "What do you know about The Bamboo Sovereign?"

The emotional shift in South Rain was immediate and intense – so sharp that Flint nearly flinched. A flash of bitter resentment cut through the air like a blade, only to dissolve almost instantly into a deep, heavy sorrow that seemed to settle over the room like evening mist.

South Rain's fingers, which had been resting lightly on the table, curled inward slightly. She took a breath, and when she spoke, her voice carried a weight that hadn't been there moments before.

"He and Obsidian were lovers," she said quietly, her gaze distant. Her fingers uncurled slowly as she continued, "At least, that's what he claimed." She paused, and Flint could feel the sorrow deepening, like water seeping into soil. "But..."

South Rain's shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, "he failed to stop Obsidian from leaving the Abyssal Pavilion when she became a prisoner of the Immortal Alliance."

Her voice grew softer still, barely above a whisper. "And when they executed Obsidian... he couldn't save her then either."

South Rain's voice grew hollow as she continued, her fingers tracing abstract patterns on the wooden table. "The Bamboo Sovereign returned to the Abyssal Pavilion covered in wounds. 'I tried my best,' he said. All he brought back was Obsidian's body." Her lips curved into a bitter smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Or rather, what was left of it – a piece of obsidian stone, cracked and broken."

She drew a shaky breath, her shoulders hunching slightly as if under an invisible weight. "After that, he... lost his mind. He would sit in a pine forest all day, cradling that stone, muttering to himself. We could never make out what he was saying." Flint felt the sharp edge of South Rain's earlier pain gradually soften into a deep, resigned sadness tinged with something gentler – a kind of compassionate pity that made her chest ache.

South Rain's fingers stilled on the table as she continued, her voice growing distant. "One day, I was passing through that pine forest when he suddenly became lucid. He looked at me with such clarity in his eyes and told me to leave." She lifted her gaze to meet Flint's. "I had never broken any of the Immortal Alliance's laws, so they had no record of me. He wanted me to join them... to discover what Obsidian had endured in her final moments."

Her voice cracked slightly on the next words. "He looked so old then... but that should have been impossible. He wasn't supposed to age..." She trailed off, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Suddenly, Flint felt herself drowning in a wave of overwhelming grief. Her vision blurred, and the present seemed to fade away. In its place, she saw The Bamboo Sovereign, his sage-colored hair stark against his pale skin, his body riddled with wounds that went straight through him. She – no, Obsidian – reached out with a trembling hand, her voice breaking as she spoke:

"I'm sorry... I can't survive this."

The vision was so vivid, so raw with emotion, that Flint had to grip the edge of the table to steady herself. The crack in her mental barrier seemed to widen under the strain of the memory, allowing more of the past to flood in. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks, though she wasn't sure if they belonged to her present self or to Obsidian's final moments.