As he walked, fragments of memory fluttered in and out of reach. Nothing solid, only impressions. He felt that he had walked in forests like this before, long ago, perhaps as a youth. There had been laughter then, and companions. Faces flashed through his mind: stern eyes of an old man with white hair, a laughing boy missing a tooth, a woman with a golden lotus embroidered on her sleeve. Were these real or inventions of his starved mind? He could not tell, and the effort of trying to hold onto these images made his head throb. When he attempted to recall his own name, he found a blank void. That frightened him most of all. To be a person with no name, no past. It was a void far colder than the forest shadows. But the face of the moonlit girl remained the one consistent thread.
Who was she? A loved one? Family?The thought of her being a sister or mother felt wrong; the ache in his soul when he pictured her was something else.
Love? Yes, it must have been love. Perhaps she had been the light of his previous life. If anyone knew who he truly was, it might have been her. Finding her, or learning what became of her, felt as urgent as finding himself. Yet, if centuries had passed, she would be long gone... unless she too was like him, a being beyond the normal span of life. The idea gave him a faint ember of hope: in a world of cultivators and gods, immortality was possible. If she had achieved it or been reborn, perhaps their paths would cross. Or, bitterly, perhaps she was among those who betrayed him. His heart twisted at that possibility, a sharp pain that nearly drove him to his knees. He placed a hand over the shard in his chest until the ache subsided.
No, he thought silently. The girl with moonlit eyes... the feeling she gives me... it cannot be betrayal. It felt like loss, deep and poignant. Not anger, but sorrow. He chose to trust that feeling, for now.
By midday, he found a narrow dirt path winding through the woods. The sight of a path, evidence of humans, made him stop and retreat behind a tree instinctively. Heart pounding, he peered cautiously. The path was rutted and overgrown at the edges, likely not frequently used. Still, it had to lead somewhere. If he followed west, it should take him toward the village he sensed. Gathering his nerve, the man stepped onto the path. A sudden memory overwhelmed him: horses trotting along a mountain road, himself dressed in flowing robes of blue, a sword at his side, laughter on his lips as he traveled with a group of wanderers. It vanished as quickly as it came, leaving him breathless. He looked down at his current self... Naked, dirty, weaponless save for the hidden shard and managed a rueful half-smile. How far he had fallen from whoever he once was.
Along the path, sun-dappled and winding, he walked for an hour when he heard the first real sign of people: voices. He froze, listening. Two voices, speaking in an unfamiliar dialect yet somehow his mind adjusted and the words became intelligible.
"...telling you, I saw it! A ghost light in the eastern woods last night," an older male voice was saying, tinged with fear.
A younger voice replied skeptically, "Probably swamp gas or will o' the wisps. You know the legends around here. The forest is haunted by old spirits. It's nothing new."
They were coming closer. The man without a name stepped off the path and crouched low in the brush, peering through leaves. Two figures rounded a bend in the road: farmers, by the look of them. A middle-aged man with a scraggly beard pushing a handcart and a younger woman carrying a bundle of firewood. They looked ordinary, flesh-and-blood humans, and somehow this eased his fear.
I must look ordinary too, he hoped.
"I'm not so sure," the old farmer muttered. "That light was bright, like a fallen star. And I heard... strange sounds. Might be a yao-guai awakening. Heaven forbid one of those old demons comes out of hibernation."
The young woman rolled her eyes. "Even if one did, the Jade Hollow Sect would handle it. They keep this region safe, father. No demon or ghost would dare trouble us with an immortal sect so near." She spoke with pride, and the man realized she wore a simple talisman around her neck, etched with a jade petal symbol. Perhaps a token of that sect's protection.
The farmer grunted. "Hmph. Maybe. Or maybe that sect is too busy with their own affairs. It's been quieter from their monastery lately... no pilgrims in months. And that storm last night, never seen the like. Strange omens..." His voice trailed off as they walked further down the path, their voices fading.
The listener in the bushes remained crouched long after they passed, mulling over their words. Ghost light in the eastern woods... That could have been him, his awakening. A yao-guai they thought, a demon. Perhaps that is what he appeared to be, a phantom glow in the night. It was good fortune they hadn't stumbled into the glade, or curiosity might have brought them face to face. He wasn't sure how he would have dealt with that. His interaction with living people in this new life was zero.
Seeing them had stirred a strange mix of emotions: relief at not being alone in the world, yearning to speak to them, and also caution — they spoke of demons and ghosts, meaning fear was close to the surface. If he, an unknown naked man with a mysterious aura, approached them suddenly, they might panic or even attack. And they mentioned a sect, Jade Hollow Sect, that protected this area. A sect of cultivators, presumably. The girl believed them benevolent, but the father's tone suggested they were reclusive or unreliable.