Liu Lixue also stood, uncharacteristically serious. “Then I’ll prepare the ceremony. The royal tomb has been fully constructed, and Lady Liu’s body can be interred there… let’s do it tomorrow. It won’t rain tomorrow; after that, the Beast Realm will have continuous downpours and an unusual frost.”
Su Xuan turned and left, and Sang Dai did not follow.
Liu Lixue sighed and left as well to attend to his responsibilities.
Only Sang Dai remained in the room.
She walked out of the dining hall. It had rained all night, and under the osmanthus tree in the courtyard, many petals had fallen, the fragrance even stronger.
Sang Dai looked up; the sky was dark and overcast.
The sword cultivator murmured, “A Heaven-grade spiritual root awakener…”
As a Heaven-grade spiritual root awakener, was it a blessing or a curse?
It brought them glory but left them with nothing.
—
Outside Linglong Cove, atop the pavilion.
Unlike the Beast Realm’s unending rain, the immortal realm had no rain. Near Linglong Cove, the sun still shone brightly.
On the tall building, the doors were tightly shut. The sound of coughing leaked out continuously. Accompanied by violent coughing fits, blood was vomited all over the floor.
The woman in the pink dress lay prostrate on the bed, her face flushed red. The repeated coughing fits made it difficult for her to breathe, and her once-delicate features contorted, veins bulging beneath her skin.
A young man in red knelt on one knee by the bed, his beautiful brows tightly furrowed. He tried to ease her condition with spiritual energy, only to find it utterly ineffective.
Shi Yao raised her hand to stop him, covering her mouth to block the blood that kept surging out. “Bi Fang, don’t bother.”
“Miss…”
Shi Yao turned her head, wiping the blood from the corner of her lips. With Bi Fang’s help, she sat up.
Panting for breath, she lifted her hand, looking at the palm stained with blood—blood she had just coughed up.
Shi Yao sneered at herself. “…This body of Four Sufferings is truly wretched and decrepit.”
Bi Fang replied, “Miss is of noble lineage; please don’t say such things.”
Shi Yao rolled up her sleeve, revealing her slender, pale arm.
The color of her veins had turned an inky black, thick and conspicuous, as if her entire meridians had been consumed by the darkness.
“I really envy Sang Dai… The Four Sufferings don’t corrode her. She is the only cultivator in this world immune to the torment of the Four Sufferings—a natural body of glass.”
Bi Fang held her wrist, gently brushing over the blackened veins. “Miss, it is precisely because of that immunity that the Heavenly Dao seeks to kill her. There’s nothing to envy.”
Shi Yao gazed at the boy’s slender fingers as he wiped the blood from her palm.
“…But she didn’t die, Bi Fang. Why didn’t she die?” Shi Yao asked blankly. “I followed what the Destiny Book said. Sang Dai was supposed to die in that war. The Heavenly Dao even decreed that her fate was such. Why didn’t she die?”
“She didn’t die, and now all of our fates have been altered. I may not survive, Su Xuan may not die—everything has been thrown into chaos because of her.”
Shi Yao’s voice grew cold. “How can a mere orphan of the Weisheng clan dare compete with me?”
Bi Fang finished wiping the blood from her hand, his gaze lingering briefly on the black markings on her wrist before pulling down her sleeve to cover them.
He said, “Miss, Bi Fang will help you live.”
The young man raised his head, his eyes filled with earnest devotion.
“Miss, you are the most important person to Bi Fang. Whatever Bi Fang does for you, it is only right.”
Shi Yao looked at him, clearly seeing the affection in the boy’s eyes.
Abruptly, she withdrew her hand, her voice icy. “Bi Fang, everyone around me has left. The Sword Sect has ended up like this. Mother has returned to Mount Taixu. Why do you insist on staying by my side?”
Bi Fang lowered his head respectfully. “Because Miss is very important to Bi Fang. Miss saved Bi Fang and raised him.”
Shi Yao’s gaze at him grew complicated.
Raising him had merely been a means of using him, and yet he had never realized it.
Fool.
She lay back down, pulling the brocade quilt over herself. Turning her back to Bi Fang, she said nothing.
The boy remained kneeling on one knee. “Miss, if you are ultimately devoured by the Four Sufferings, Bi Fang will be your last way out.”
Shi Yao closed her eyes and said nothing.
The boy transformed into a spirit crane, quietly curling up on the blue bricks, his breathing faintly carrying traces of calamitous fire.
The room was quiet, with a faint oppressive atmosphere.
—
The River of Forgetfulness lay in the underworld, just a hundred li away from Bairen Alley.
A young man in a black robe walked slowly along the plank path. On either side, the river flowed sluggishly, its surface faintly shimmering with light.
Those lights were the souls unable to cross the River of Forgetfulness, abandoned by the Wheel of Reincarnation and cast into its depths.
Su Xuan carried an ice box in his arms as he walked forward. At the very end of the path, someone stood with their hands clasped behind their back, waiting.
Fu You turned around and fell silent when he saw the ice box in Su Xuan’s arms.
He extended his hand. “Give it to me.”
Su Xuan stopped and did not move.
He held the ice box tightly, lowering his gaze to look at the faint glimmers within.
The aura of Liu Ying still felt gentle.
Fu You spoke, “The Wheel of Reincarnation is about to open. All mortals must face death. If she had entered reincarnation a hundred years ago, she might now be about your age. Don’t delay any further.”
Su Xuan pressed his lips together, lowered his head, and gently brushed his cheek against the cold surface of the ice box.
Fu You was momentarily stunned.
He didn’t know how he had died or what his mortal life had been like. By the time he had memories, he was already a ghost cultivator, with no parents and no understanding of familial bonds. The only person he cared about was Ling Yin.
Thus, he couldn’t understand why Su Xuan was willing to sacrifice six spiritual veins in exchange for this—just to have Fu You open the Wheel of Reincarnation once and send a person who had been dead for a hundred years into reincarnation.
When people die, their souls either become ghost cultivators or linger outside the River of Forgetfulness, waiting to enter reincarnation.
The Wheel of Reincarnation opens once every three years. Ghosts waiting outside the river can only enter reincarnation when it opens. The last time it opened was a year ago.
Fu You withdrew his hand, clasping them behind his back as he continued to wait, reminding, “It will open in just one more quarter of an hour.”
Su Xuan remained still for a long while as time ticked away. When the quarter-hour passed, a massive circular disc appeared behind Fu You. The reincarnation disc began to spin slowly, its speed gradually increasing until it became a blur.
Fu You extended his hand again. “Give it to me.”
The little fox slowly handed over the ice box.
Fu You accepted it and opened it in front of Su Xuan.
Specks of dim light floated out. With a wave of Fu You’s hand, the lights dispersed, revealing an ethereal figure.
Dressed in golden court robes, she looked exactly the same as the one lying in state in Su Xuan’s Beast Palace.
Her expression was vacant, her gaze hollow.
Su Xuan’s breath trembled. He took a step forward, as if to reach out to her.
Fu You quickly blocked him. “You mustn’t. If you wake her, she will form attachments and won’t be able to enter reincarnation!”
Su Xuan’s breathing grew ragged. The tall man’s back hunched over, as if he lacked the strength to stand upright.
Fu You’s expression was unreadable. He turned away and opened the spinning Wheel of Reincarnation.
On the endless River of Forgetfulness, the waters parted down the middle, revealing a narrow path, like a dam dividing the two shores of the river.
Liu Ying slowly walked along the narrow path over the water.
Su Xuan turned his back, afraid that one more glance would make him unable to resist calling out to her.
His shoulders trembled, and the pain in his chest turned into a sharp knife, twisting through his entire body.
Liu Ying continued forward, nearing the edge of the darkness. Just as she was about to disappear, Fu You suddenly spoke. “She has crossed the River of Forgetfulness and is about to enter reincarnation. Do you want to look at her one last time?”
Su Xuan turned around in a panic. The woman in golden court robes was taking step after step into the darkness, walking toward her new life.
His jaw tightened, and he pressed his lips together, not daring to utter a word. If he spoke, Liu Ying would awaken, and she would no longer be able to reincarnate.
He stood there, silently watching her as she crossed the River of Forgetfulness. Her skirts vanished at the end of the narrow path. The once-stilled waters began to flow again, and the divided halves of the river converged, submerging the path she had walked.
Fu You said, “She’s gone.”
Su Xuan covered his eyes.
“Mother…”
At last, he dared to call out to her.
Fu You was silent, unsure of what to say.
Having seen Su Xuan’s usual arrogance and sharp tongue, he had never witnessed such vulnerability in him—like a young cub unable to survive without its mother.
In the distance, someone walked along the path Su Xuan had come.
Fu You turned to look. She was no different from the last time he saw her months ago, still dressed in blue, her hairpiece delicate, her features as clear and elegant as ever.
But there was something different about her.
Months ago, Sang Dai carried an air of cold detachment, keeping people at arm’s length. Now, it was as though something had smoothed her edges, leaving only an endless gentleness. Even her gaze toward him was less distant and more polite.
She nodded slightly in greeting, and Fu You returned the gesture before walking out of the River of Forgetfulness.
On the wooden bridge, only the two of them remained.
Sang Dai walked up to the little fox and tried to pry his hands away from his eyes.
“Su Xuan, let me see.”
The little fox refused.
The sword cultivator sighed softly, coaxing him, “Let me see. Are your eyes red? Did you cry? I’ll comfort you.”
The hands covering his eyes loosened slightly.
Sang Dai successfully pulled them away.
Su Xuan’s eyes were stunning, their pale, glassy hue resembling fine glaze, with faint ripples near the pupils—a pair of extraordinarily beautiful eyes.
His long lashes were now damp, glittering with tears.
As their gazes met, Sang Dai seemed to hear the little fox’s inner wail.
[“Dai Dai… I don’t want her to go…”]
He didn’t want Liu Ying to leave at all.
She had entered reincarnation, embarking on a new life, and from then on, she would no longer have any connection to him.
[“I want to keep Mother… I want my mother.”]
But he couldn’t do that.
He couldn’t let Liu Ying miss her chance at reincarnation because of his selfish desires.
The sword cultivator gently wiped away his tears and spoke softly, “When I was very young, I thought death was a terrifying thing. I lost someone very important to me, someone I would never see again in this life. When my master passed away, I even crossed the River of Forgetfulness, hoping to find his soul.”
But for Heaven-grade spiritual root awakeners, there is no such thing as reincarnation.
When they die, they truly die. Their divine soul vanishes along with the obliteration of their spiritual root, disappearing completely from the world.
The Heavenly Dao grants them the strongest life but denies them any afterlife.
The little fox pressed his face against her palm, silently shedding tears.
“Later, I witnessed more and more deaths. Parents who died for their children, lovers who died for each other, cultivators who perished while ridding the world of evil—too many to count. From all the deaths I’ve seen, I’ve come to understand: every day we live, we are moving toward death. But at the same time, death is also the beginning of new life.”
Sang Dai’s eyes curved slightly as she wiped away the tears from the corner of the little fox’s eyes.
“Perhaps one day I will die too. But, Su Xuan, every day that I live, I am by your side. You hold an important place in my life, and because of that, even if I die, I will have no regrets in this lifetime. So loss is not something to fear. Don’t let it drive you mad, don’t trap yourself in it, and don’t grieve too much.”
The sword cultivator rose onto her toes and hugged the little fox, resting her chin on his shoulder, gently patting his back.
“Keep moving forward. Don’t look back.”
Su Xuan held her tightly, his nose brushing against the crook of her neck. The scent of her presence was calming.
The sword cultivator had always been gentle. Beneath her sharp and imposing sword aura was a tender soul.
He loved her and would only ever love her.
“Dai Dai.”
Sang Dai responded, “Mm, I’m here.”
Su Xuan held her even tighter.
“Stay by my side forever. We were born together, and we will never part, even in death.”