A painting opens the mystic gate

"Whoosh, whoosh!"

The air surged around her, its edges sharp as knives, swirling furiously around Zhou Shiyu's head and body. The white glow on her forehead made her already fair face even more striking, yet that beautiful face radiated a danger found only in wild beasts. That aura drove the watching students another ten meters back, and they circulated the elemental power within them, ready to defend themselves.

Seeing that she was serious, Fu Yuanyuan's expression changed. He hastily backed down and apologized. "Shiyu, calm down. Please, calm down first. That kid probably isn't dead yet. Now isn't the time to fight."

Zhou Shiyu clearly had no intention of wasting more words on him. All she knew was that she would kill the man before her today, even if it meant facing punishment under school rules.

"Whoosh!" Without another word, Zhou Shiyu pushed off with her toes. Her body shot forward like an arrow, her steps swift as an eagle. Wrapped in a storm of white light, she appeared before him in a flash and brought her palm down.

"Smack!" A wind Elementalist's speed was formidable, and Fu Yuanyuan had no intention of fighting her. The slap landed squarely on his face, its crisp report echoing through all six sections of the theater.

The blow knocked Fu Yuanyuan to his knees. He lowered his head, showing no intention of resisting.

Seeing him like this, much of Zhou Shiyu's anger subsided.

"Shiyu, stop hitting him! Stop!"

"You'll kill him if you keep going!"

"Stop, stop! The principal's here!"

Students and alumni around them began urging her to stop. A man of about fifty jogged through the crowd. At the sight of the principal, Zhou Shiyu knew she would not be able to kill Fu Yuanyuan today. This was as far as it would go.

"Stop. This is no place for sparring. Can someone tell me what happened?" The principal surveyed the scene, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as he spoke gravely.

While the students explained what had happened, Zhou Shiyu went to Zeng Mu and checked his injuries.

When she unzipped his jacket, she saw that the cotton undershirt beneath had been soaked red. Pulling it open, she found an indentation near his heart left by four knuckles. The wound sank two centimeters inward, and the blood soaking his clothes welled from those four depressions like lava from volcanic craters.

"Damn it." She cursed under her breath, bit her fingertip, and slipped it into his mouth. As her elemental power and vital blood flowed into him, his fading consciousness briefly revived.

Several seconds later, Zeng Mu opened his eyes and woke, but his pupils were already unfocused. There was no vitality in him, and he looked utterly hollow.

"Mu, how are you feeling?" she asked, choking back tears.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. My chest just feels a little hot. I don't know why."

He tried to lower his head and look at his chest, but she cupped his chin in her delicate hand, preventing him from seeing the wound.

"No. Don't look. You're badly hurt."

As soon as she finished speaking, Zeng Mu closed his eyes and fainted again.

The principal approached, crouched down, and examined Zeng Mu's wound. He sighed. "Ah, Zeng will be fine. It's only a minor injury. Come on, let's head back first." He waved his hand, and a streak of green light fell from his palm, spreading into a cluster over Zeng Mu's heart. The pain and burning immediately faded.

Under everyone's gaze, Zeng Mu was carried into a car. Zhou Shiyu and the principal got in, and they left the theater entrance.

After five minutes of fast driving, the car stopped outside the gates of the three-story villa.

The driver drove away. Supporting Zeng Mu by his arms, Zhou Shiyu and the principal brought him through the gate.

"Second Uncle! Second Uncle!" the principal called after entering, only to discover Yuan Su standing behind him.

"You're here?"

"Yes. I never expected something like this to happen. I'm sorry."

Yuan Su did not examine Zeng Mu's wound. He merely raised a hand. "Come on. We'll talk inside."

The three made their way to the studio on the third floor. It was exactly as it had been a few hours earlier, with drawing paper and brushes scattered across the floor and paint staining the floorboards and chairs in every color.

"Just put him here." With that, he turned and left the studio, leaving Zhou Shiyu and the principal behind.

After setting Zeng Mu on a chair, Zhou Shiyu voiced her doubts. "Principal, why did you bring Mu here? Shouldn't we be at a hospital right now?"

The principal shook his head at her question. "As you saw, this was all my second uncle's idea. I don't know why he wants to do this either. Of course I originally intended to take Zeng Mu to the hospital, but that call in the car was from him. He told me to bring Zeng Mu here. He said there was no saving him anyway, so we might as well let him handle it."

Zhou Shiyu froze at those words. "You mean... handle it?"

She was just about to cry when Yuan Su's voice came from outside the door. "Don't worry. Although Zeng certainly can't survive, he isn't completely dead yet. There's still a way to save him."

He held a pitch-black helmet. Its material and finish made its considerable value obvious. It was presumably an antique treasure bought from some old pawnshop, a type of ancient Western battle helmet.

"Give me a hand, will you? Lift his face. Yes, yes, just like that." He approached Zeng Mu, and with their help, slipped the helmet onto his head without much effort.

Zeng Mu looked rather comical, but to Zhou Shiyu, he was heartbreakingly pitiful, like a fallen medieval knight in a painting.

"You two should leave now," Yuan Su said, waving them away.

Zhou Shiyu exchanged a glance with the principal. He reached out and patted her shoulder like a father. "Come on. Let's step outside first."

"Make sure you shut the door tight," Yuan Su added. The principal did exactly that.

The room fell quiet. Yuan Su went to the table, picked up the painting Zeng Mu had looked at earlier, and brought it over, setting it at the tips of his toes.

"Whew..." With that done, he turned to look at Zeng Mu, then reached into his trouser pocket and took out the Blackstone Necklace.

"It's been more than twenty years since we last parted, hasn't it? Yet it was also only an afternoon nap. Ha... what a distant dream." He muttered those puzzling words, his gaze settling on Zeng Mu's face.

"This journey is bound to be dangerous. But Grandpa believes in you. You'll return safely, and when you do, you'll have so much to tell me. I'm also very eager to know what became of all those people you spoke of..."

"Go, child. This is a journey beyond imagination, a journey that will change your destiny."

With that, he placed the Blackstone Necklace around Zeng Mu's neck.

He stepped back twice. Silver moonlight fell through the skylight onto the painting, and the beam refracted onto the necklace.

"Flash!" The teardrop-shaped black stone shone, filling the studio with dazzling light.

With a whoosh, Zeng Mu vanished from the chair.

Many years later, when Zeng Mu set foot on his native soil again, he would rejoice for an entire day. Then his heart would grow darker than the night. Only beneath the candlelight would he understand that he had lost his companions, his beloved, and an entire, utterly different world...

The land was barren beyond measure. There was scarcely any green as far as the eye could see, only wasteland, yellow sand, stones, and bodies strewn across the ground.

It was noon, yet the sky was a murky gray. Great swathes of yellow smoke and black clouds drifted overhead. A biting wind swept past scorched, tattered battle flags and fallen warhorses crusted with blood, carrying a thick stench of gore into the nostrils of the man lying on a dune.

He wore close-fitting black leather armor, and a sword emblem marked the center of his battered half-helmet. Sword and axe wounds covered his torso, while bloody holes in his long legs made a horrifying sight. Fortunately, the bones were unharmed, but the dark red blood dried over his body made it hard to believe he was still alive. Suddenly, however, he began coughing. Enduring the agonizing pain throughout his body, he struggled upright and opened his stiff eyelids to survey his surroundings.

Zeng Mu was stunned by the bodies carpeting the ground. Faced with this terrifying, blood-soaked battlefield, he instinctively looked at his palms, wondering whether he was dreaming.

"Impossible. Hell shouldn't look like this..." Zeng Mu muttered, gazing farther into the distance.

It was just as devastated there: burning flames, blackened earth, piles of bent swords and axes, severed limbs and exposed bones scattered like breaking spray. The horrifying sight made his stomach churn, but his throat was too dry for him to bring anything up.

He desperately hoped he was dreaming, but the mounting pain kept reminding him otherwise. His breathing quickened, and the stench in his nose and the howling in his ears intensified, making everything around him painfully clear and real.

Zeng Mu touched his face. His fingers immediately turned dark red as the clinging blood slowly flaked away like mud, confirming more firmly that this was not his own face.

"Wasn't I supposed to be dead?"

Questions flooded his mind, leaving Zeng Mu feeling suffocated. His trembling legs suddenly gave way, and he dropped back onto the gravel.

Only then did he notice, to his astonishment, a necklace around his neck. It was incredibly familiar, with an inky, teardrop-shaped black stone—the very Blackstone Necklace Grandpa Yuan had worn.

Zeng Mu touched the necklace. After a while, a glimmer flashed through his bewildered eyes. He suspected this object was the reason he had appeared here.

His memories were confused and distant, as though he had lain here for years and only just awakened. Intense unease gripped his mind, making him afraid to think any further.

He looked toward the taller dune ahead and murmured that, whatever the case, he should keep moving.

Death filled everything within sight. There was no sound besides the wind. Wearing the leather armor, he left a footprint on the dune with every step, the marks appearing only behind him, like a shadow struggling to follow.

Only after reaching the highest point of the dune could Zeng Mu estimate the number of bodies within several kilometers. Even without counting the bones and severed limbs, they numbered in the tens of thousands.

He also discovered that the bodies belonged not to two factions, but three. Their armor and weapons differed in style, and even their physiques varied greatly. Almost every body in the largest-built faction weighed at least a hundred kilograms, with bones nearly twice as thick as his.

The other two factions were somewhat smaller, but lean and muscular. Their strength was presumably considerable as well.

The helmets of the three factions each bore a symbol at the center: a sword, an axe, or a spear. They were presumably marks of affiliation.

Zeng Mu touched his half-helmet. After confirming the sword emblem at its center, he sighed weakly. He had indeed crossed into another world, and this world was clearly not enjoying an age of peace.

"How do I get back?" He stopped and looked up at the sky.

He had none of this body's memories, only his own. That was a small mercy amid his misfortune, but it also left him at a loss for the moment.

His throat grew increasingly dry. With a thought, Zeng Mu tried to activate his wood elemental mark to produce some water vines and quench his thirst, only to discover, to his shock, that he could not.

"What's going on? Where's my elemental mark?" Zeng Mu's voice trembled violently, and his expression darkened. He could no longer sense his innate elemental mark within his body.

He clenched his fists and tried several more times, but there was still no response.

Zeng Mu's mind suddenly went blank. Intense fear enveloped him. He felt like a lamb that had fallen into an unknown, dangerous land, without any power to rely on. Overcome with emotion, he looked up at the sky and roared several times.

After his roars came an even more helpless terror. Every heartbeat felt painfully distinct, leaving Zeng Mu struggling to breathe. His already weakened body collapsed onto the yellow sand strewn with broken stones.

"If only this really were a dream..." Zeng Mu slowly closed his eyes, unable to accept the loss of his elemental mark.

He only wanted to sleep. Perhaps he risked never waking again, but if he did wake, it might mean this nightmare was over.

The nightmare continued. Blood-scented sand blew into his nostrils, and the howling wind stung his face. None of it would end. This was a real world.

As Zeng Mu began calming down, he vaguely heard footsteps. Their rhythm did not sound human.

"Hey! Friend! Are you still alive?" A clear shout reached him, and Zeng Mu instantly opened his eyes and raised himself.

Before him was a warhorse, trotting unsteadily up from below the dune. Its armor was covered in sword and axe marks, though fortunately none had penetrated to its body.

A man who looked to be in his twenties lay over the horse's back. He had typical Western European features: blue eyes, a high nose, and long, curly, pale blond hair. A silver sword was strapped to his back. His armor was scarred all over, and dried blood covered his face, but his eyes were resolute and alert as he studied Zeng Mu in turn.

"Who are you?" Zeng Mu straightened and looked at the man.

"Whew... so I'm not the only one who got separated."

The man sounded slightly weary. He sat upright, yawned, and lightly jumped from the horse. Approaching Zeng Mu, he offered a hand and introduced himself. "My name's Kanni. I'm a knight in the First Legion's vanguard. What's your name? Which legion are you from?"

Zeng Mu reached out and shook his hand. He was about to speak, but did not know where to begin.

"What? Do I look like an enemy impostor? Is that why you won't even tell me your name?" Kanni's grip tightened slightly, his tone mildly reproachful.

"No. It's not that I don't want to tell you. I don't know."

Kanni withdrew his hand and studied the grime-covered man before him again. His brow furrowed for two seconds, then relaxed. He reached behind his back and offered a waterskin.

"You must be terribly thirsty. Have a drink first."

"Gulp, gulp..." As the sweet water reached his stomach, Zeng Mu immediately felt less dizzy, and his senses grew a little clearer.

"Well? Feeling any better? Remember your name yet?"

Zeng Mu handed back the waterskin, forcing a faint smile onto his stiff face. "Much better. But I still don't know my name, where I came from, or where I'm going."

Kanni took the waterskin and tipped his head back for a gulp. Keeping his face turned skyward, he said ruefully, "To think I'd actually run into someone who lost his memory after battle."

He lowered his head and looked at Zeng Mu's chest, where a tiny line of numbers was engraved. Recognizing what the numbers meant, Kanni blurted out, "You're a vanguard knight from the Second Legion. Don't you remember?"

"At the beginning of last month, we received military orders passed down from the Temple Master. We set out from our respective capitals and came here to fight."

Zeng Mu turned to look at the lifeless bodies. "What caused the war? Who are the other two factions?"

The questions made Kanni chuckle despite himself. He put away the waterskin and answered, "Since ancient times, war has had only one cause: advantage, and the pursuit of a better life."

He turned toward the devastated land and began explaining this world:

This was a chaotic, brutal continent inhabited by tens of millions of people, divided among three great powers. First was the Holy Temple, in the Holy Sword Territory in the west. Second were the Seven Kingdoms, which had remained divided for years following the collapse of the Zhou Dynasty, in the Seven Kingdoms Territory in the east. Third was the Viking Dynasty, commonly called the Viking Tribes, in the Savage Territory in the south.

Each faced a crisis that threatened its very existence, so the three powers fought constantly, seeking only the land and resources needed to survive. Thus, a minor war broke out every five years and a major war every ten. By now, the wars had continued for a century.

"Well? Does that give you some idea?" Kanni turned back to look at him.

"Knightly orders, the Seven Kingdoms, and Vikings, all in the same era?"

Zeng Mu looked astonished. This world was clearly far too chaotic for him to comprehend.

"What crisis is our Holy Temple facing?" Zeng Mu was eager to know the reason.

At that question, Kanni first looked startled, then gave a strained smile and shrugged, spreading his hands. "You're asking me? How would I be entitled to know? That's the Holy Temple's most closely guarded secret. Only the Temple Master and the duke know the reason."

"But for people like us, it doesn't matter whether we know that secret. All we need to know is that if we don't fight, sooner or later we'll run out of food and water. That would mean a slow death."

Looking at Zeng Mu's still-bewildered face, he gave up trying to restore his memory. "Since you've lost your memory for now and don't know your own name, I'll call you Nameless."

"Nameless... the Nameless One. Not a bad name," Zeng Mu said, satisfied.

Kanni pointed beneath their feet. "We're at the junction of the three territories. A century of war has turned this place into the wasteland you see now. As a vanguard knight, this is my third time here. I've been lucky enough to survive every time. But this time, my horse was injured, and I couldn't keep up with the main force when it withdrew. We'll head west and try to find them. Only then can we get back to Sand City."

With that, Kanni turned and vaulted onto his horse. He reached down and pulled the weakened Zeng Mu onto its back.

"Nameless, hold on tight."

"Hyah!" Kanni flicked the reins and squeezed his legs inward, shouting loudly and forcefully.

But after half a day of traveling, the warhorse was already exhausted. With another person's weight added, it struggled even more. No matter how loudly Kanni thundered, the response was little more than a drizzle. Its run barely amounted to a brisk walk, moving at the pace of a mule entering a marketplace.

Watching its trembling hooves, Zeng Mu asked worriedly, "Kanni, are you sure this horse can carry both of us and catch up with the main force?" He thought the horse would collapse after another half hour at most.

"Don't worry. I still have a little elemental meat. I found it earlier on a corpse from the Zhao State. His golden armor told me he was a high-ranking officer. That fellow kept this piece of elemental meat hidden against his chest right up until he died." Kanni rummaged inside his armor, and a pale golden chunk of meat appeared in his hand.

Looking at the elemental meat, he said regretfully, "What a waste. It's meat from a metal Elemental Beast. I could sell it to the Fulin Taiyou People for at least two hundred Livres. But right now, staying alive comes first." After his lament, Kanni patted the horse's head and tossed the meat into its mouth.

As the meat entered its mouth, the warhorse's eyes lit up. It seemed intensely excited and chewed eagerly, while the energy within spread swiftly through every cell in its body.

"What's elemental meat? How can you feed it meat?" Zeng Mu asked in confusion.

"Elemental meat is, of course, meat from an Elemental Beast. They're extraordinary creatures with elemental power inside them. Animals and plants alike crave it. When people eat elemental meat, they can absorb some of that elemental power. Once enough builds up within them, their bloodline mutates, allowing them to produce that element themselves. That marks the birth of an Elementalist."

"An Elementalist?!" Zeng Mu's eyes suddenly lit up. He looked at his palms, abruptly feeling that there was hope again.

This world also had elemental power similar to elemental marks. Although the names differed, their essence was the same.

"Why are you so excited? Did you remember your name?" Kanni asked, lightly flicking the reins.

"I haven't remembered my name, but I'd like to learn about Elemental Beasts and Elementalists."

The meat reached the horse's stomach, and its elemental energy was fully absorbed. The warhorse began to accelerate. Its hooves, which had struggled even at a brisk walk, now blurred. With a piercing neigh, it leaped from the dune to the ground below and galloped toward the hazy distance.