Lord Wang Wei, with utmost care, laid the mortal coil of Qing Lin within the heart of the arcane array, guided by the whispers of the sorceress Hu Juan. He raised his gaze to meet the stoic countenance of Wang Lin.

Without uttering a word, Wang Lin tore a rent in the fabric of reality, from which the corporeal form of Qing Shuang emerged, followed closely by a crystalline gem.

“The body of Qing Shuang, its crown aligned with the crown of the Immortal Emperor,” Hu Juan instructed, her voice taut with anticipation.

Even as her words echoed, Wang Lin manipulated the lifeless vessel of Qing Shuang, placing it opposite that of Qing Lin. Father and daughter lay in perfect alignment, their celestial crowns facing one another.

In that precise moment, the gem, born from the rift alongside Qing Shuang, as if drawn by an unseen force, settled between their skulls. An ethereal cerulean light emanated from its facets, merging with the light woven into the very fabric of the array. In a blinding flash, the entire chamber was bathed in emerald radiance.

Wang Jie and Hu Juan exchanged a knowing glance. They knelt, one on either side of Qing Lin’s form, within the luminous circle. Wang Lin, needing no instruction, his understanding of forbidden arrays keen, perceived the nuances of the ritual and settled beside Qing Shuang.

“One more is needed. Let Zhou Yi stand in, for he knew Qing Shuang in life,” Wang Jie declared, suppressing his own rising tide of emotion. He extended a hand, and from another tear in space, a beam of pure sword-light coalesced into the form of Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi, upon solidifying, turned his gaze upon Qing Shuang, his expression softening with a gentle sorrow. He heeded Wang Jie’s command, kneeling beside Qing Shuang, his eyes never straying from her still form.

“Begin,” Hu Juan whispered, her lower lip trembling. Her heart thrummed with trepidation, for the array had not been fully deciphered. Its success was uncertain.

Wang Lin nodded once, his eyes resting upon Situ Nan and the silver-clad corpse-maiden. “Situ, guard us.”

Situ Nan, his face a mask of grim resolve, offered a curt nod. “Fear not.”

The silver corpse-maiden, needing no spoken command, understood the unspoken order.

Hu Juan’s hands began to weave complex gestures, her fingers dancing in arcane patterns. With a final, decisive thrust, she sent a beam of light into the crystalline heart of the array. The gem erupted in a blinding cerulean brilliance, engulfing the entire chamber. This gem, Wang Lin knew well, had been brought forth long ago in the Vermillion Bird Holy Sect, and had been studied extensively by Wang Jie and Hu Juan.

Simultaneously, Wang Lin raised his right hand, piercing the skin of Qing Shuang’s arm. He forced forth a crimson stream of her lifeblood, which he guided to fall upon the gem’s surface.

Zhou Yi, witnessing this act, recoiled in distress, casting a mournful glance at Wang Lin, but held his tongue.

Now, all was in place: the Rain Realm Honor Hall, the gem, and the blood of Qing Shuang. The gem absorbed the offering, and a flash of crimson appeared within the cerulean light, spreading outward. A low rumble echoed through the chamber, a sign that the array was beginning to awaken.

In that instant, Wang Lin’s eyes blazed with power. He formed a hand seal and, with the fire of his left eye blazing, he focused all of his power on Qing Lin’s brow. “Sacred Artifact blood, receive!” he roared.

Qing Lin’s body shuddered violently. The blood at his brow writhed and, with a sickening pop, tore free from his flesh, flying towards Wang Lin. Without the seal of the sacred artifact’s blood, a wave of black energy surged forth, engulfing Qing Lin’s face. An ever-growing demonic aura spread around him.

Yet, the array remained a tumultuous rumble, but offered no indication of Qing Lin’s resurrection. Instead, as the demonic aura intensified, the ancient demon Taji seemed poised to manifest, an outcome that brought horror to the faces of Wang Jie and Hu Juan. Wang Lin’s expression darkened with dread. Zhou Yi, oblivious to all else, remained fixed on Qing Shuang.

“Something is amiss! Something is lacking!” Hu Juan cried out.

“What could it be?” Wang Jie, his face contorted with strain, was overcome with the frustration and anxiety that accompanied the looming failure of his greatest hope. Hu Juan, ashen-faced, gazed at the ever-mounting demonic power surrounding Qing Lin, a bitter smile twisting her lips.

Wang Lin’s brow furrowed. All that could be done had been done, the three sacred components were present. Yet, Qing Lin could not awaken; only the ancient demon Taji stirred. He stared at the crystalline gem, his mind racing. Despite his efforts, he could not ascertain the missing element. “Qing Lin, you asked us to save you. We have done all that you asked. Why does it still come to this?” Wang Lin growled, with no regard for Qing Lin’s noble status. If the ancient demon awoke, they would all perish. Wang Lin prepared to raise his right hand to reseal Qing Lin with the sacred artifact’s blood, but he lacked the power of the old Holy Emperor. He could not be sure of success. “Master, what is missing?” Wang Jie asked, his voice anguished. He was on the verge of madness. “Missing… could it be… the blood of one named Wang…” a hesitant voice whispered from behind Wang Lin.

Wang Lin spun around, surprised. It was the silver corpse-maiden, uttering her first words. When she met his gaze, she lowered her head.

Wang Lin’s surprise was shared by both Wang Jie and Hu Juan. All eyes were upon the strange woman.

“Continue,” Wang Lin urged, his voice low and dangerous.

“Before… Hua Fei… said that the master’s name was Wang… needed to enter the Immortal Emperor’s cavern…” the silver-clad woman’s voice wavered.

Lightning struck within Wang Lin’s mind. He turned, biting his tongue to draw a mouthful of blood. He spat the blood upon the gem. Qing Lin’s demonic aura was reaching its peak, a shadow taking shape within the darkness. The ancient demon Taji was on the verge of awakening.

But at the instant Wang Lin’s blood touched the gem, the array exploded in cerulean and crimson light. It began to spin at blinding speed, drawing power. Wang Jie and Hu Juan felt the essence of their Immortal Power flow from them, consumed by the array. Quickly, their faces paled and they grew weak.

Wang Lin had little Immortal Power within him. Now, what little he had was being taken.
The crystalline light intensified, a blinding wave that shattered the nascent demonic form. Simultaneously, as celestial energy surged forth, the vortex of power amplified tenfold. Wang Lin felt a disorienting rush, his consciousness fleeing. Not only he, but Wang Gan, Hu Juan, and Zhou Yi, all succumbed to the overwhelming force.

When Wang Lin’s senses returned, he beheld a sight that stilled his heart. Before him stretched a sea of obsidian, its surface roiling with immense waves that crashed upon unseen shores. A chilling wind whipped across the waters, carrying a mournful song.

“You awaken,” a voice, cold as glacial ice, whispered from behind.

Wang Lin whirled around, his breath catching in his throat. A figure floated before him, a woman wreathed in white as pure as driven snow. Her beauty was breathtaking, yet it radiated an almost tangible frost. The very air around her shimmered with a chilling aura.

Had it been merely this, Wang Lin might have steeled himself. But the woman’s face was etched into his memory. It was Qing Shuang, the Rain Immortal, daughter of the Azure Empyrean. “You are… revived?” he stammered, the question spilling from his lips before he could fully comprehend it.

“For now,” the white-clad woman replied, her words as sparse and sharp as winter’s breath.

Wang Lin drew a deep breath and surveyed their surroundings. “Where…?”

“My father’s sea of consciousness,” Qing Shuang stated, her voice devoid of emotion as she gazed upon the ebony ocean.

Even as she spoke, two beams of emerald light erupted nearby, coalescing into the forms of Wang Gan and Hu Juan. Hu Juan’s eyes widened as she recognized Qing Shuang, a flicker of warmth crossing her face.

“Sister Qing Shuang!” she exclaimed.

Wang Gan, too, paused, a hint of relief softening his gaze. “So your soul endured! With the Master’s power, you can be reborn.”

Qing Shuang ignored Wang Gan entirely. Turning towards Hu Juan, a fleeting smile touched her otherwise frigid features. “After so long, that you survived the collapse of the Immortal Realm gladdens me.”

As she spoke, another shimmer of jade emerged, revealing Zhou Yi. The moment he materialized, he trembled, his gaze locked upon Qing Shuang, his voice cracking with a mixture of hope and despair. “Ting’er…? It is Ting’er…?”

Qing Shuang’s brow furrowed, her face hardening into a mask of glacial disdain. “Who do you call Ting’er?” she demanded, her voice laced with chilling menace.

Zhou Yi flinched, his face falling into despair. He shook his head, his voice a mere whisper. “Ting’er is gone…”

Qing Shuang’s expression remained impassive. “I know not how you became the new Sword Spirit of Rain, but your station shall remain unmolested. However, should you continue with such ramblings, I will strip you of your title.”

Zhou Yi recoiled as if struck, the words a physical blow to his chest. He staggered back, his face pale, the taste of bitterness clinging to his tongue. He did not speak, only murmuring, “As you command.”

He understood. His Ting’er was lost, forgotten. Once, she was a fragment of his own soul, born from his grief. That fragment had long since faded into nothingness. Now, only Qing Shuang remained, and she was not his Ting’er.

Yet, to gaze upon the face he had cherished for millennia was a torment beyond imagining. He stood barely three paces from her, yet they were separated by an abyss wider than the ages, further than life and death.

For in this world, there is a chasm that dwarfs even the divide between living and dead: The abyss of forgetting.

Wang Lin frowned, about to interject, but Zhou Yi shook his head, stopping him. He would never blame Ting’er. All this, he had willingly chosen. Two thousand years ago, he had abandoned his sect for a corpse, causing his mentor to die of grief.

A thousand years ago, he had sacrificed his own soul to protect that same corpse. He would sooner die than allow another to take his Ting’er.

And even now, he remained the same as he was a millennium, two millennia ago. Even though the Ting’er before him was a stranger, even though the faintest glimmer of hope had extinguished, despite the chasm of station between them, he remained unchanged.