The old man blinked, his sword lowering slowly, his aura stabilizing as he studied Kael with a mix of awe and recognition.
"You're… not from the sects," he said, his voice hoarse but steady, his spiritual senses probing Kael's radiant presence.
"No," Kael replied, sheathing Abyssal Fang, its edge still humming with residual qi. "I'm following a mark. A Lotus."
The old man's eyes lit up, a spark of hope igniting within his weathered gaze. "You bear the Flame?" he whispered, his voice trembling with reverence. "Then the stories were true—the Warden of the Lotus walks again."
He reached into his tattered robe, producing a half-burnt scroll, its paper shimmering with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with primal qi, their patterns resonating with the crimson mark on Kael's forearm.
