A word from Zhou Wutai caused Wang Lin’s hand, clutching his goblet, to still.

Before his eyes, an image shimmered – the proud, solitary soul of Hongdie. A crimson spirit, imbued with both pride and loneliness, blazing with brilliant light upon the planet of Suzaku.

Hongdie’s life was short, yet the glorious splendor of her existence remained etched in Wang Lin’s memory, unforgettable even now.

A woman who would rather embrace death than submit to bondage. A woman of such icy hauteur that the younger generation of Suzaku cultivators dared not meet her gaze. Hongdie, like her name, was a butterfly forged from the most radiant crimson light in the heavens!

A butterfly of such exquisite beauty that countless souls would forever remember her.

A look of reminiscence clouded Wang Lin’s eyes as he slowly set down his drink, turning towards Zhou Wutai.

“Hongdie resided within the Snowdrift Kingdom… a kingdom now lost to the relentless march of time, vanished forever. Its demise is intertwined with the seal you placed in those days… the surviving Snowdrift cultivators, if any remain, have scattered, becoming members of the Nine Great Sects…” Zhou Wutai raised his head, meeting Wang Lin’s gaze as he spoke deliberately.

“But after the Snowdrift Kingdom dissolved, I discovered a certain place within that desolate, snow-swept land…” Zhou Wutai’s expression grew solemn as he took a sip of wine.

“Do you recall Hongdie’s Shifu… who foresaw a life-or-death tribulation for her disciple, a trial that, if survived, would grant her the Five Elements physique?” Wang Lin nodded.

“The place I discovered was the sealed resting place of Hongdie’s Shifu! Her cultivation may not have been exceptional, but she possessed knowledge that eludes me even now… How did she accomplish it? How did she craft such an intricate array? Within that array lies a single strand of Hongdie’s hair,” Zhou Wutai recounted in a measured tone.

“What sort of array?” A sense of unease pricked at Wang Lin, and his eyes narrowed.

“My knowledge of arrays is limited. I cannot decipher its deepest secrets. But knowing your history with Hongdie, I suspected you would recognize it. I preserved the array all these years. Now that you have returned, perhaps you can shed light upon it!” Zhou Wutai rose, facing Wang Lin.

Wang Lin glanced at his parents’ graves. His purpose in returning was to pay homage to them. Taking a deep breath, he did not rouse the slumbering madman. Together with Zhou Wutai, he stepped into the sky.

In the northern reaches of Suzaku, amidst a sprawling mountain range, stood a colossal statue of the Suzaku. This very statue, a relic of days gone by, now served as Zhou Wutai’s secluded dwelling.

With a ripple in the heavens, Wang Lin and Zhou Wutai materialized. Zhou Wutai led the way, and together, they entered the gargantuan Suzaku statue. Within its shell lay another world, a vast and sprawling manor.

Inside a stone chamber, Wang Lin beheld the curious array that Zhou Wutai had transported.

The array, spanning ten lengths, dominated the chamber floor, radiating a chilling aura that formed a layer of cerulean ice around its perimeter.

At the array’s very heart, a single strand of ebony hair lay encased in ice. The entire array appeared dormant, frozen in time, showing no sign of activity.

“This is the array…” Zhou Wutai said, his expression still clouded with the bewilderment of years past.

“Given Hongdie’s Shifu’s cultivation at the time, I find it hard to believe she was the one who constructed this,” Wang Lin said, stepping onto the array. He lowered his gaze, scrutinizing it with growing intent. The array was undeniably complex, filled with numerous restrictions, just as Zhou Wutai had described. It was certainly beyond the capabilities of a first-step cultivator. “If this array hadn’t already been dormant when I found it, I would have been wounded by its power, despite my own cultivation,” Zhou Wutai added.

Wang Lin lowered himself, placing his right hand upon the icy surface of the array. Instantly, the ice pulsed with blinding light, and a low rumble resonated through the chamber, hinting at the array’s latent power.

A look of calculation flashed across Wang Lin’s face. After a long moment, he withdrew his hand. The moment his touch broke, the array gradually reverted to its dormant state.

“This is a soul-splitting and transportation array!” Wang Lin announced after a moment of contemplation.

“Likely crafted by a cultivator at the pinnacle of the Netheripping stage, or perhaps even higher… It is certainly not the work of Hongdie’s Shifu, unless she concealed her true power… But if she hid her true power, the events surrounding Hongdie later in life become difficult to explain,” Wang Lin said calmly.

“The purpose of this array is to divide a sliver of soul using that strand of hair, and then transport it elsewhere. The only question is, where? The hair carries Hongdie’s aura. If that’s the case, Hongdie might not be truly dead!” Wang Lin analyzed, his eyes gleaming.

This revelation was unexpected. He never imagined that such a secret could exist on the planet of Suzaku.

“Hongdie’s Shifu foresaw her disciple’s life-or-death tribulation. She likely knew that it would be exceptionally difficult to overcome. It is possible that, using some unknown method, she discovered this array and, before Hongdie faced her trial, extracted a sliver of her soul and sent it away… In doing so, she hoped to preserve a chance for Hongdie to survive…

“This way, even if Hongdie perished, that strand of soul could potentially seize another body and be reborn, thus evading the tribulation!” Wang Lin rose, looking at Zhou Wutai.

Zhou Wutai was deep in thought. After a long moment, he said, “After discovering this array, I delved into the ancient records of the Suzaku Lords. I found a hidden detail. The Snowdrift cultivators, like the Giant Demons, seem to be outsiders.”

Wang Lin left the stone chamber in silence, and stood atop the Suzaku statue, gazing at the heavens. His eyes seemed to pierce through the veil of reality, reaching out to the vast expanse of the cosmos.

“Whatever the truth may be, the fact that Hongdie might be alive is a source of joy… Perhaps she is out there, somewhere in the vastness of the stars, also looking towards Suzaku… Whether she retains her memories, or whether she remembers those bygone days, remains to be seen…” Wang Lin’s voice was like a gentle breeze, reaching Zhou Wutai’s ears.

“I am also pleased that she might live… There are few of us left from those times. I hope, in my remaining years, to meet her again,” Zhou Wutai said, smiling softly. He sighed deeply. The hatred of the past had faded with the relentless passage of time.
A shadow flickered in Wang Lin’s mind, a fleeting vision of a face he might have known. He strained against the mists of two millennia, seeking purchase in the shifting sands of memory, but found only oblivion.

“Let it be,” sighed Zhou Wutai, his voice heavy with resignation. “If she wills us to know, fate will weave our paths together once more. If not… then we must presume she has achieved the Final Dissolution.” He looked at Wang Lin, a question trembling on his lips, yet swallowed it back into the silence.

“Brother Zhou, I must take my leave,” Wang Lin said, turning to face him, offering the traditional clasp of respect.

Zhou Wutai’s expression was a tempest of emotions. He hesitated, then, as he returned the clasp, he whispered, “Have you… have you seen Liu Mei these past years?”

“I have… She has already attained the Final Dissolution,” Wang Lin replied, his gaze lingering on Zhou Wutai for a long moment before the words finally escaped his lips.

The color drained from Zhou Wutai’s face. He shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips, and said nothing more.

Wang Lin departed, his form dissolving upon the ancient Vermillion Bird statue, leaving Zhou Wutai alone, gazing into the emptiness where he had stood, his sorrow deepening with each passing moment.

“Liu Mei… dissolved…” Zhou Wutai murmured, sinking to the stone, drawing a long draught from his wine gourd. Her image remained etched upon his heart, an unyielding flame burning through the long centuries.

He drank, and drank, until the twilight deepened into night. Then, he threw back his head and laughed, a hollow, mournful sound laced with the sharp sting of memory.

None knew the depth of his devotion to Liu Mei, a silent love he had carried for ages.

Even Wang Lin had only just sensed the truth in Zhou Wutai’s haunted eyes, and what could he possibly say?

In the humble Zhao ancestral home, before the graves of his parents, Wang Lin kept vigil for seven days. He remained, a silent sentinel, his gaze fixed upon the resting place of those he loved, sipping wine, and letting the days bleed into one another.

Slowly, a quietude settled within his soul. He became as an old man, unburdened by ambition or regret, oblivious to the warring energies within his own being, lost in the bittersweet solace of their presence, a silent witness to the dance of night and day.

The Madman awoke from his slumber, stretching and yawning, resuming his endless, rambling discourse. He snatched the wine gourd from Wang Lin’s hand, taking a long swig before launching into even more elaborate stories. Perhaps emboldened by the drink, he began to sing, his discordant voice scattering the oppressive stillness that had settled upon the ancient house.

On the eighth day, Wang Lin knelt before the graves of his parents, his forehead touching the sacred earth. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the essence of his homeland, offering a final farewell to their spirits. Then, he turned and strode forth!

With that single step, the weary traveler shed his mortal skin, becoming once more the cultivator, Wang Lin!

The cold, calculating immortal!

That step carried Wang Lin from the embrace of the mundane, back into the maelstrom of the cultivation world. He turned his back on the gentle warmth of family, and faced the treacherous path of deceit, and deadly peril.

This path was a road of no return. Once embarked, he must walk it unflinchingly. There would be no true respite, even a glance backward was but a fleeting indulgence.

“There is one final place I must visit on Suzaku,” Wang Lin declared, turning his gaze toward the distant horizon, the Madman chattering at his heels.

He spoke of the long-abandoned Rune Clan and the ancient pit they called home. There, hidden within its depths, lay the secrets of the Rune Clan, a place that the old Holy Emperor’s avatar, Huang Longzhen, had yearned to penetrate.

What secrets lay buried within the nineteenth layer of the Rune Clan’s pit? It was a question that had haunted Wang Lin for countless years.

With a swift movement, Wang Lin and the ever-babbling Madman transformed into twin streaks of light, hurtling towards the Rune Clan’s abandoned pit!