The echoes of Nameless

Chapter 3

~A letter in wind~

The wind howled through the narrow streets, carrying with it the scent of dust and the faint promise of rain. The sky was a muted gray, but the storm had not yet arrived. It was a dry wind, carrying with it the tension of something about to break. The occasional gust sent dust swirling through the town, rustling the leaves of the few trees that lined the streets. It was a restless sort of day, the kind that warned of a storm, but offered no certainty.

---

At the small steam bun stall, the few remaining customers hurried through their business, eager to escape the wind that whipped through the air. The market was quieter than usual, the typical hustle and bustle dampened by the dry wind, but Li Xin remained unfazed. His hands moved with practiced precision, rolling dough, shaping it, and steaming it, while the scent of freshly made buns filled the air.

He was alone in his world, his mind untangled from any distractions. His eyes flickered up only when a man approached the stall. The stranger was plain in appearance—no more than a traveler caught in the dry wind. His cloak was damp from the air, his face hidden beneath the hood, his posture unremarkable.

"Two buns," the man said, his voice low, with a hint of urgency beneath the calm.

Li Xin handed over the buns, his face expressionless. There was nothing special about this customer, nothing that drew his attention. He returned to his task without another word.

But the man did not leave. He paused, his gaze flickering over the street, then back to Li Xin.

"There's something I need to give you," the man said, his tone barely audible in the dry wind. With a swift motion, he pulled a letter from within his cloak and placed it on the counter beside the buns. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, disappearing quickly into the crowd, his footsteps swallowed by the gusts of wind.

Li Xin didn't move. His hands continued their work, his eyes never lingering on the letter. It was as if the letter had no more significance than the buns he was preparing. The man's presence, the letter—it was all a passing breeze, unnoticed and unimportant.

---

Later, in the quiet of his room, Li Xin sat by the window, the letter resting on the small table beside him. The storm had not yet broken, the dry wind still carrying the scent of rain, but inside the room, all was still. The candle beside him flickered in the stillness, casting long shadows on the walls.

His eyes moved to the letter, but for a long time, he made no move to open it. The world outside could be as restless as it liked, but inside, it was always this quiet. The letter, untouched, lay in front of him, waiting, as if nothing else mattered. After surpassing the hardest storm of life, the experience has art to make a person quiet. The storm might come, the world might change—but it was not his concern. The only thing that had ever mattered to him was the stillness within.

The letter remained on the table, untouched, while the storm outside waited, just on the horizon.

---

Meanwhile, a day's journey away from the town, two martial artists moved with purpose along the dirt road that wound through the forests and hills. The wind picked up as they walked, swirling dry leaves around them, carrying a feeling of anticipation.

The man leading the way was tall, with sharp eyes that seemed to see everything around him. His features were handsome, though worn by the years and the journey he had undertaken. His dark hair was tied back, a few strands escaping as the wind tossed it. His posture was straight, commanding, and his movements deliberate, as if he had a purpose beyond just the journey. His name was unknown to most, but his reputation was not—he was a martial artist of considerable skill, perhaps an old friend or a bitter enemy to someone long forgotten.

The woman walking beside him was equally striking, though her beauty was tempered by a sharp, calculating look in her eyes. Her dark hair was braided tightly, and her robe fluttered lightly in the wind. Her demeanor was one of quiet intensity, her movements graceful but filled with a warrior's confidence. She, too, had a purpose in this journey, but unlike her companion, she had not yet spoken of it in full.

They walked in silence, their destination unclear, but their resolve firm. Their thoughts were focused on one thing—the man they were searching for. A man from their past. A man whose name was now lost to the winds of time, but whose actions had not been forgotten.

---

As they walked, the woman finally broke the silence. "Do you think he is here?" she asked, her voice calm, though a hint of doubt lingered in the words.

The man glanced at her, his expression unreadable. His gaze returned to the path ahead, the answer unspoken but clear. The sword could not remain lost

They walked in silence, their destination unclear, but their resolve firm. Their thoughts were focused on one thing—the man they were searching for. A man from their past. A man whose name was now lost to the winds of time, but whose actions had not been forgotten.

"What if he doesn't want to be found?" the woman asked, her tone laced with both curiosity and caution.

The man glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "We'll find him regardless. He has something we need."

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she processed his words. She had always admired the man's unshakable confidence, but this quest felt different. The sword was more than just a weapon—it was a force that could shake the foundations of the martial world.

"We'll find him," she said again, this time with more certainty. "Before it's too late."

They continued their journey, the wind whipping around them as the storm seemed to loom closer on the horizon. Whatever they faced, they would be ready. This was not just about finding a man; it was about controlling the chaos that threatened to engulf the martial arts world chaos.

The wind howled louder, the storm just beyond reach, but they continued their journey, their minds focused on only one thing. The sword. And the man who had once possessed it.