The return journey from the Bamboo Courtyard passed in silence.
The afternoon sun hung low above Heng Ming Sect, bathing the mountain paths in a soft golden light. Disciples continued their training as though nothing had changed. Servants moved between halls carrying scrolls, medicine, and freshly prepared meals. The peaceful rhythm of the sect remained undisturbed.
No one noticed that the Sect Master's sleeve concealed a carefully folded piece of paper.
No one knew that the first tangible clue in a mystery spanning years had just been found.
Only Xiaoyu knew.
She walked calmly through the Sect Master's residence as though returning from an ordinary inspection.
Behind her, Shen Wei maintained his usual distance, followed by two guards.
Not once did he ask what the inspection had revealed.
He had long since learned that Yuchen only spoke when he wished to.
When they reached the residence, Shen Wei stepped forward.
"Sect Master, the remaining reports from the Treasury and the Discipline Hall are awaiting your review."
Xiaoyu looked toward the pile of scrolls resting upon the desk.
"I'll review them this evening."
She paused before adding calmly,
"I wish to be alone for a while."
"As you command."
Shen Wei bowed respectfully.
Within moments, the residence emptied.
The doors closed softly behind him.
Silence returned.
Xiaoyu waited.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
Only after the last trace of footsteps disappeared did she move.
Crossing the room, she placed her hand against the concealed mechanism hidden within the wooden shelf.
A deep rumble echoed beneath the floor.
The hidden passage slowly opened.
She descended without hesitation.
The stone entrance sealed shut above her.
Darkness swallowed the chamber.
One by one, she lit the candles lining the investigation room.
Warm light spread across the walls.
Names.
Letters.
Maps.
Witness testimonies.
The strange symbol.
Every clue she had gathered over the past weeks surrounded her once more.
This room had become the only place where she could think freely.
She walked directly to the center table.
Slowly, she unfolded the sheet of paper she had copied from the bamboo stalk.
Beside it, she placed the drawing of the mysterious symbol.
For several minutes...
She simply stared.
Comparing.
Observing.
Measuring every line with her eyes.
"...No."
Her brow furrowed.
"It isn't incomplete."
"It only looks incomplete."
She picked up a brush and carefully copied the mysterious symbol onto a fresh sheet of paper.
Then another.
Then another.
Each copy became simpler than the last.
Instead of viewing it as one image, she began separating each stroke.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
When she finished, four individual markings lay neatly before her.
She reached for the copied bamboo carving.
With careful fingers, she placed it over the first separated stroke.
They aligned perfectly.
Not approximately.
Perfectly.
A quiet breath escaped her lips.
"So..."
"It was never one symbol."
"It was four."
The realization settled heavily inside the room.
For so long she had searched for a complete mark.
Yet the answer had been hidden within the mark itself.
Someone had never intended it to exist in one place.
Someone had deliberately scattered it.
She sat back in her chair.
Her thoughts immediately began racing.
Why?
Why divide it?
Why leave only one part inside the Bamboo Courtyard?
Her eyes lowered once more.
This time she stopped looking at the shapes themselves.
Instead...
She studied how they had been carved.
The first stroke was shallow.
Its edges were smooth from age.
The cut leaned slightly to the left.
She reached for another brush.
Opening a clean notebook, she carefully wrote:
Investigation Notes
First Stroke
Location: Bamboo Courtyard
Condition: Aged
Depth: Shallow
Orientation: Slightly left
She paused.
Then quietly added another line.
Possibly carved many years ago.
She looked back toward the remaining three strokes.
Something felt...
Different.
She narrowed her eyes.
The first stroke was clean.
The second seemed heavier.
The third curved differently.
The fourth ended with unusual precision.
They looked similar.
Yet...
Not identical.
She quickly sketched each one separately, paying close attention to their edges.
Several moments later, she slowly lowered the brush.
"They weren't carved the same way..."
Whether it was the pressure...
The angle...
Or the movement of the blade...
Each stroke possessed subtle differences.
Differences that should not exist if they had been carved by the same person.
Her heartbeat slowed.
"...Different hands?"
She immediately rejected the thought.
"No..."
"Or..."
"...different times?"
The room became silent once more.
If the markings had been created years apart...
Then whoever began this trail might never have seen it completed.
Her gaze drifted toward the copied map hanging upon the wall.
Without another word, she removed it and spread it across the table.
Carefully, she placed the copied bamboo stroke over the location of the Bamboo Courtyard.
Nothing.
She rotated it slightly.
Still nothing.
Again.
Again.
On the fifth attempt...
She stopped.
The angle of the stroke now aligned naturally with a narrow mountain path branching toward another section of the sect.
Not perfectly.
But intentionally.
She froze.
"This isn't only a mark..."
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
"...It's pointing somewhere."
Her eyes widened.
The Bamboo Courtyard had never been the destination.
It had been the beginning.
The route she believed she had solved...
Had only led her to the first marker.
Everything beyond that remained unknown.
Slowly, she stood.
Returning to the investigation wall, she removed the note labeled:
Unknown Symbol
After staring at it for several moments, she folded it away.
In its place, she pinned the copied bamboo carving.
Beneath it, she wrote in neat handwriting:
First Stroke
Below that...
She drew three empty spaces.
Nothing more.
No guesses.
No assumptions.
Just three blank places waiting to be filled.
Xiaoyu quietly stepped back.
The wall looked almost unchanged.
Yet to her...
Everything had changed.
She had not solved the mystery.
She had only discovered where it truly began.
Her gaze rested upon the wall of clues for a long time.
Then, almost unconsciously, she whispered,
"The comic told the story of a villain..."
Her fingers lightly touched the first stroke.
"But perhaps..."
"It never knew his story at all."
The candles flickered gently.
No one answered.
Yet somehow...
The investigation room no longer felt as though she were searching for Yuchen's secrets.
It felt as though she had begun walking the path he had once walked.