At the garden's center stood a man in black robes, his back facing Yu Xuan. The robe itself was unlike anything Yu Xuan had ever seen — its fabric rippled like liquid night, and constellations were woven into it, each star shifting and breathing as if alive.
The man's presence alone distorted the space around him; he didn't radiate power, yet the world seemed to bend to his existence.
Yu Xuan stopped a few steps away, every instinct screaming that this person was not ordinary.
The man spoke, his voice deep and calm, carrying a strange familiarity.
"You've arrived sooner than expected."
Yu Xuan stiffened. That voice…
The man slowly turned around.
And Yu Xuan froze completely, his breath catching in his throat.
It was himself or rather, a version of himself. Older.
His gaze carried warmth, unfathomable wisdom, power — and detachment. The same face, yet not the same man.
Yu Xuan's heart pounded. For the first time in a long while, he couldn't form words.
