By dusk, the sky turned yellow-gray — the color of parchment left too long in silence.
Kaifeng and Ren Zhui arrived at a stone-marked settlement nestled in the bend of a dry riverbed. No name on the gates. No guards. Just a weather-worn sign hung above the entry:
"Let no voice rise before the second bell."
Inside, it was quieter than empty.
Shutters closed before footsteps reached them. Markets stood filled but unsold. A woman feeding chickens mouthed a greeting but made no sound.
Zhui looked uneasy.
"This isn't caution. It's memory."
Kaifeng didn't reply. His eyes swept the rooftops, the window creases, the shadows under the eaves.
He recognized the silence.
Not peace.
Fear disguised as discipline.
They stopped at a shrine near the center. Burned incense sat untouched. Prayers were carved, not spoken. One phrase repeated around the altar:
"The whisperer listens still."
Kaifeng turned to a nearby old man sweeping dust into a circle.
"What happened here?"
The man looked up. His lips moved, but no sound came.
Then he wrote, finger in dust:
"A blade was drawn too early."
Kaifeng's jaw tightened. Zhui stepped beside him.
"This place... it remembers death. Not just loss."
"Not just remembers," Kaifeng said softly.
"It still lives with it."
That night, an unnatural fog sank into the village.
Kaifeng stood outside the inn they'd been given. No fire. No torchlight. Just darkness, still and listening.
Then —
A scream.
Sharp. Immediate. Then nothing.
Kaifeng was already running before Zhui had drawn breath.
They reached the courtyard behind the temple.
A body lay there.
Face down. No blood. No visible wound.
Just eyes wide open, and mouth frozen mid-scream.
Zhui bent down. "He's…"
"Not killed," Kaifeng said.
"Taken."
The wind hissed through broken tiles.
And somewhere nearby — just for a moment — a voice spoke behind them.
But neither of them said it.
"You shouldn't have asked."
Kaifeng stood still.
Then, with slow precision, reached into his sleeve and drew the wooden training blade.
Not for war.
For memory.
Zhui narrowed his eyes.
"That's not a weapon."
"No," Kaifeng said.
"That's the point."
In the mountains above the village, a bell rang.
Once.
Then silence.
And below, the town sealed its windows.
Because everyone knew:
If the second bell rings, and a voice speaks…
the whisperer will answer.
End of Chapter 3