The evening air was crisp, the sun long gone. The Fisherman and his family knelt outside, trembling before Prince Eyrin and the cultivators.
"Replying to Your Highness, it's the truth," the fisherman's wife pleaded. "His body washed ashore, and we thought him dead, but he wasn't. With the water demons attacking at night, we assumed he was a victim."
Prince Eyrin's sword, still unsheathed, pressed against her neck. "And this happened a few days ago?" he asked, his voice cold.
The wife nodded, fear etched on her face. "Replying to Your Highness, yes."
Prince Eyrin's gaze narrowed. "The young man claims his name is Khailian. Is that his true name, or a fabrication?"
The wife stuttered, "T-that..."
Palov's voice cracked like a whip. "Speak now! The prince has no time to waste!"
The wife's words tumbled out in a terrified rush. "Replying to Your Highness, it's not his real name. When he awoke, he claimed to remember nothing—not his name nor his past. So... we gave him the name Khailian.
Prince Eyrin's eyebrows furrowed in skepticism. "He couldn't recall anything, not even his name? Describe his appearance when your husband found him."
The wife's eyes darted about, as if searching for the right words. Then her gaze snapped back to the prince. "Replying to Your Highness, he looked... slashed."
Prince Eyrin's eyes widened, his mind racing. The assassin had indeed claimed to have slashed him before he fell into the sea.
"Are you certain?" he pressed, crouching down beside her, his unsheathed sword still poised at her neck.
The wife nodded fervently. "Replying to Your Highness, I treated his wounds, but the scars remain."
Prince Eyrin withdrew his sword and stood up, pacing a short distance away to collect his thoughts. "Anyone could have been slashed," he mused, "but what if it is really Prince Khane? Perhaps his memory loss is why he doesn't recognize me.
Yet, what about his martial arts skills? Was his meeting with Master K today related to his abilities, or merely a health concern?" The prince's eyes narrowed, his mind whirling with possibilities.
The woman's next words made Prince Eyrin's head snap back towards her. "Replying to Your Highness, there's one more thing I just remembered. When he first tried to recall his name, he pronounced the letter 'k'. As he couldn't remember, my husband named him Khailian."
Prince Eyrin's eyes widened as he rushed back to the woman, grasping her shoulders. "Are you certain? Was it really 'k'?" He demanded, his voice urgent.
"Replying to Your Highness, yes, it was," she confirmed.
Prince Eyrin released her shoulders, his mind racing. "He's not here yet, but when do you expect him to return?" He asked, his heart beginning to pound in his chest.
"Replying to His Highness, he comes back every night, this night included. He takes the straight street when returning," she replied.
Prince Eyrin's thoughts swirled with excitement and a hint of fear. "Slashed, appearing here just days after the D.I.H. attack, unable to recall his name but knowing it starts with 'k'... It must be him," he thought to himself. "This time, I'm sure it must be him."
Prince Eyrin turned to the imperial cultivators and Palov. "We've been out since we arrived. Go to the state governor's residence; accommodations have been prepared for us. Settle there for now."
"Replying to Your Highness, what about you?" Palov asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"I'll meet you there," Prince Eyrin replied, his gaze already distant. "For now, I have somewhere to be. Do not follow me."
With that, he transcended, his body lifting off the ground as he rode the wind. His black hair streamed behind him like a dark banner as he soared through the sky. He came to a stop on a rooftop, his feet landing silently on the tiles.
Unsheathing his sword with a slow, deliberate motion, Prince Eyrin gazed at the blade, his eyes burning with intensity. "Tonight, we meet face to face again, Prince Khane," he whispered to himself, the wind carrying his words away into the night.
************************************
In the dimly lit abandoned warehouse, Arnin lay on a bed of hay, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he replayed the day's events in his mind.
He couldn't shake the memory of how he had narrowly escaped death multiple times, all because of his entanglement with Prince Khane.
"Never again," he vowed to himself, determined to steer clear of the prince and the trouble that seemed to follow him.
Just as Arnin was starting to drift off into a restless sleep, a sudden gust of wind burst through the doors, sending them crashing open.
He sat up with a start, wondering how this was possible, as he was certain he had secured the doors with a sturdy wooden beam.
A shiver ran down his spine as he sensed a presence in the darkness.
With a swift motion, Arnin sprang to his feet, grasping his scabbard from the ground and unsheathing his sword. "Who's there?" he called out, his voice firm and wary, as he prepared to face whatever unknown threat had entered the warehouse.
As the darkness outside seemed to press in, Arnin's gaze fixed on the figure emerging from the shadows.
The wind whipped through the man's hair and robes, but his face remained obscured until he stepped closer. Arnin's grip on his sword tightened, ready to defend himself if necessary.
Finally, the stranger's features became clear, but Arnin didn't recognize him. He was certain they had never met before. Yet, there was something unsettling about the man's piercing gaze.
"Are you Arnin?" the stranger asked, his voice low and mysterious.
"I am he. Who speaks?" Arnin replied, his wariness evident.
"Your friend might be in trouble even as we speak. Help him out," the stranger urged, his eyes glinting with an otherworldly intensity.
Aaron shook his head. "Let me tell you, I don't know how much he paid you, but I've never met Khailian in my life. I'm not close to him. You have the wrong Arnin."
The stranger's gaze didn't waver, his expression unreadable. Arnin sensed that he was dealing with someone extraordinary, someone who might not be entirely human. Little did he know, he was face to face with Immortal Elyon.
"I never mentioned Khailian's name, yet you seem familiar with him.
You're a fourth-phase cultivator, while Prince Eyrin has reached the fifth phase. Why not spar with him to broaden your skills?"
Arnin's grip on his sword hilt tightened, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and trepidation. "You asked for this," he growled, charging towards Immortal Elyon with a swift battle cry.
Elyon stood motionless, his hand rising in a gentle gesture. Arnin's attack was halted mid-air, and he felt himself flying backward, his body crashing into an unseen force. When he regained his footing, Immortal Elyon stood before him, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"You mortals can't touch an immortal," Elyon said, his voice dripping with an otherworldly confidence. "Now, let me show you something."
With that, he grasped Arnin's hand, and they vanished into thin air. When they reappeared, Arnin found himself in a realm that defied reality. The ground beneath his feet felt like clouds, and the sky was filled with beings sporting golden wings.
As they approached a shimmering golden gate, guarded by winged sentinels, Arnin's wonder turned to awe. "What is this place?" he asked, his gaze drinking in the fantastical scenery.
Immortal Elyon's eyes remained fixed on the gate, his voice filled with reverence. "This is the Gate to Heaven in the mortal world. A living mortal can only enter when they've reached the immortal phase."
"Immortal phase is real?" Arnin asked, his eyes aglow with wonder.
"It is, but it's extremely challenging," Immortal Elyon replied. "I've glimpsed your Book of Fate, Arnin. You're destined to reach the immortal stage, so cast aside your doubts."
Arnin's mind reeled as Elyon continued, "The person you know as Khailian is, in truth, Prince Khane, the sole prince of the former king. And Prince Khane is the same individual you've been referring to as 'Nameless'."
Arnin's eyes widened in disbelief. "He's Prince Khane?! And also Nameless?!. You're an immortal, so why can't you help him?"
Immortal Elyon's expression turned enigmatic. "My reasons are my own, Arnin. I can't divulge them. It's up to you to decide whether to trust me or not. Will the great Arnin aid the immortal?"
With that, Elyon pushed Arnin, and Arnin vanished into thin air.