The wind carried whispers of a bygone era, a melody woven from the threads of ancient legends. Beneath the shadow of the Moonlit Peaks, a lone figure stood, his silhouette framed by the cascading glow of a star-strewn sky. His hand, weathered yet unyielding, cradled an artifact—a crystalline shard pulsating with an otherworldly light.

"This... is your legacy," murmured Xiao-Lei, his voice steeped in the weight of a thousand battles. He turned to the boy kneeling before him, a youth whose gaze burned with questions and an unfamiliar determination. "An Echo of who you were. A fragment of the power you must now claim."

Li Ming's fingers trembled as they hovered over the shard. "You're telling me… I've lived before? That I'm supposed to be someone else?"

"You're not meant to be him," Xiao-Lei corrected, a faint smile softening his stern demeanor. "But you must learn from him. The choices he made, the battles he fought, and the burdens he carried—they're yours now."

The shard shimmered, its light casting fleeting shadows that danced like specters around the room. As Li Ming touched it, memories not his own surged forth: battles fought beneath crimson skies, alliances forged and broken, and a single name whispered in defiance of the void.

Jian-Ze.

Li Ming recoiled, his breathing ragged. "That name... why does it feel like a blade to my soul?"

Xiao-Lei's expression darkened. "Because he was once your brother in arms. And now, he's your greatest enemy."

Beyond the ancient walls of the dojo, the world teetered on the brink of chaos. Echoes, coveted artifacts of unimaginable power, were falling into the wrong hands. Factions rose and fell in pursuit of dominance, while the true origin of these relics remained shrouded in mystery.

But for Li Ming, destiny had taken its first step. He was no longer just an orphan. He was the reincarnation of the Whispering Shadow—a legend whose choices would shape the fate of the murim world once more.