Gazing at the lone bird, a speck disappearing into the vast canvas of the sky, Wang Lin drew his gaze back to earth. His weathered eyes settled upon the dormant volcano, a monument to forgotten fury. A long silence stretched, measured only by the whisper of the wind. Then, with a sigh that echoed the ages, he turned, each step a testament to the weight of years, and slowly began to walk.

This day marked the nineteenth year of his wanderings since departing the kingdom of Zhao, and the fifty-seventh since a tavern’s cheap wine had first lulled him into a slumber filled with dreams. Yet, Wang Lin was not yet eighty years old.

Beyond the borders of the Fire-Scarred Land, other kingdoms lay scattered across the continent, but Wang Lin held no desire to visit them. The Fire-Scarred Land was his final pilgrimage, a circle closing upon itself.

Here, nestled in a forgotten mountain hollow outside the sect where Li Muwan resided, stood a dilapidated hut. Built by a long-gone watchman, it had fallen into disrepair, abandoned to the slow creep of nature. This was where Wang Lin chose to dwell.

From this vantage point, he could just glimpse the distant spires of Li Muwan’s mountain fortress, could almost feel the faintest whisper of her presence on the wind.

“What is cause and effect?” he mused to himself. “Do not dwell on it, do not seek to unravel its threads. Watch the sun rise and fall, the snows dance and the rains weep. Observe the turning seasons, heedless of their truth or illusion, unconcerned with the mysteries of life and death. Simply… live out your days.”

Each dawn, as the sun crested the horizon, each dusk as it bled into the night, a solitary figure could be seen perched upon a weathered, moss-covered stone, his gaze fixed upon the distant mountains.

“All the world’s entanglements, if you name them cause, then cause they shall be. If you name them effect, so be it… Why cling so fiercely? Why seek the ultimate truth?” Wang Lin’s expression remained serene, unchanged year after year, as if he had become a permanent fixture of the landscape, forever watching the horizon.

He took no sustenance, felt no hunger. He had forgotten the needs of the flesh, forgotten all but the silent contemplation of existence.

A wistful smile touched his lips as he observed the world around him, a smile that held secrets unfathomable to mortal minds. Through the passing years, he witnessed the ebb and flow of the sect’s disciples, saw them soar and dwindle like fireflies in the night. Among them, he sometimes caught a glimpse of Li Muwan.

“This world,” he murmured, “this star-strewn sky, this all, is but a tapestry woven from the threads of circumstance, born from the genesis of connection…” His smile deepened, each day a year, each year a dream.

Seven years slipped by as grains of sand through an hourglass. In those years, Wang Lin gleaned profound truths, absorbing the essence of the world while seated upon his humble stone throne.

Inevitably, the sect of Li Muwan noticed the strange, ancient figure observing them from afar. As time passed, elders of the order cautiously approached, drawn by an unseen force. Observing Wang Lin’s serene state, and hearing his occasional cryptic utterances, they were deeply moved.

Gradually, the mountainside surrounding the weathered stone was no longer the sole domain of Wang Lin. One by one, other figures, robed in the colors of various disciplines, arrived and settled into silent meditation around him, their faces reflecting a newfound peace.

None who came ever departed. They surrounded Wang Lin, listening as if to the voice of a forgotten god.

Year after year, more and more pilgrims felt an irresistible pull emanating from the mountains. From the Fire-Scarred Land and beyond, from every corner of the continent, they came, drawn from every sect and every nation.

Among them were those yet to achieve the foundation, and those who had mastered the metamorphosis of their very souls. One even arrived riding the currents of the air itself, his cultivation bordering upon the legendary ‘Ascension to the Peak’. But upon that mountainside, before the ancient figure seated upon the mossy stone, all cultivation ceased to matter.

Regardless of their power, they found only a single place to rest upon that sacred ground, neither crowding nor competing, merely sitting in humble contemplation, listening for the rare word that might escape Wang Lin’s lips, perhaps only once in a year’s turning.

When he was silent, they fell into a trance-like state, as if an unseen energy permeated the air, guiding their thoughts toward a deeper understanding of the world’s mysteries.

“Circumstances coalesce, and from their union, a consequence is born. This is cause and effect. But in my decades of searching, in my long contemplation, I have come to understand that between these two, a third element exists… Connection.

Without connection, there can be no cause and effect.” Wang Lin spoke again in the passing of another year, his smile filled with an unearthly wisdom.

The number of those who sat in silent meditation around him continued to swell, until at last, the mountainside could hold no more. For leagues in every direction, the slopes were covered in robed figures, their faces turned toward Wang Lin in silent veneration.

From lands far across the sea, from continents unknown, the stream of pilgrims continued, guided by an inner compass. The reclusive disciples of the Soul Refinement Sect, led by Nian Tian and Dun Tian, swelled the throng.

The snow-touched folk of the frozen wastes arrived as well, guided by their implacable queen, cradling an infant in her arms, a child who never seemed to age.

The Four Kingdom Alliance was represented by Zhou Wu Tai, and many other faces that stirred echoes in the depths of Wang Lin’s memory.

The ever-disheveled Yun Quezi squatted amidst the multitudes, as slovenly as ever.

Even Teng Hua Yuan, Huang Long Zhenren, and the familiar faces of Xu Fei, Zhou Rui, and Wang Zhuo, appeared from the distant horizons, and joined the silent ranks before the ancient master.

Until, at last, even Zhu Quezi himself descended from the heavens. He stood above Wang Lin for a long moment, lost in thought, before finding a space among the throng and settling down.

“That I met Liu Mei, and our destinies intertwined, was born from a single connection…”

“That I stand in opposition to the Soul Refinement Sect, is likewise born from connection.”

“Hong Die, and all things in the world, follow this same pattern. Even this dream-woven reality is no exception. Connection, connection, connection…”

“It is an external force, whose touch births a cause. The two unite, and in their union, a consequence is born.

Like a man and a woman, whose union may bring forth a child. The man and woman are the cause, their connection guides them together, and the child is the consequence.” Wang Lin sighed gently, his gaze fixed on a single figure that emerged from the sect below. She was as he remembered, clad in simple white robes, her dark hair flowing freely down her back, her expression gentle and filled with quiet strength. It was Li Muwan.
“…Cometh…” Wang Lin appeared aged beyond measure, yet from him emanated an aura of heaven and earth themselves, as if in those years of profound contemplation, he had become the very sky above, the land below.

He extended his right hand, beckoning to Li Muwan. Tenderness shone in his eyes, and even his voice held a yearning so deep it echoed through the soul.

A daze clouded Li Muwan’s features, yet a nameless feeling stirred within her heart, a sense of familiarity so potent she could not deny it. It was as if Wang Lin was an echo from the dawn of time, imprinted upon her spirit, etched into her very bones, surviving the endless wheel of reincarnation.

Even a thousand lifetimes, even a thousand draughts from the Meng Po’s brew of oblivion, could not erase him! Yet, a seal, like a brand of severance, lay upon her mind, preventing her from grasping the truth, threatening to cleave her from him for eternity.

Unbidden, she moved towards Wang Lin, and he clasped her hand, drawing her to sit beside him upon the ancient stone. Together they rested, exposed to the gazes of countless cultivators scattered across hundreds of leagues.

“But beginnings and karmic echoes, in the end, fade into the void, such is the nature of ’emptiness.’ We speak of fading because there was first existence. Without existence, there can be no fading; without fading, there is only emptiness… it is my understanding, the ending of a certain karmic thread.”

“Yet, whether knotted or unknotted, whether existing or not, it is not truly an end, but an embrace of the void…”

Wang Lin smiled gently and touched the center of Li Muwan’s brow with his left hand.

The touch seemed devoid of power, yet in that instant, the seal upon Li Muwan’s mind shattered. With a gasp, she became the first soul within this woven world to awaken to her true memory.

“Wang Lin…” Tears welled in Li Muwan’s eyes, streaming down her face. She gazed upon Wang Lin’s aged visage, reaching out to tenderly caress his weathered skin, her tears flowing faster.

But within those tears lay a wellspring of happiness and warmth, indifference to his age, and she embraced him tightly.

“I do not exist. None of this exists. Therefore, there is ‘fading’… within this truth lies the illusion, within it lies life and death…”

“Karma, illusion, existence and demise… in truth, all are born from the void… and there is a next line, but should I speak it, this dream shall end…” Wang Lin spoke softly, gazing upon Li Muwan.

This restless dream began over sixty years ago, with a drunken youth in an inn within the kingdom of Zhao.

Beyond the ancient stone, beneath the mountain peaks, across the leagues, the cultivators gathered in ever-increasing numbers until, at last, all those who had even a fleeting encounter with Wang Lin within this dream appeared. They sat silently, their eyes fixed upon the stone atop the peak, upon the two figures seated there.

Time stretched into eternity. They remained there, Wang Lin holding Li Muwan close, watching the sun rise and fall, counting the years.

“Karmic ties cannot be severed, for they are already empty… Karma is simply karma. Beginnings coalesce, and scatter into the void…” Wang Lin’s voice echoed through the heavens, transforming into countless willow wisps. From whence they came was unknown, but their destination was certain.

They danced upon the wind, falling gently upon each cultivator across the leagues, as if they had found the chronicles of their lives.

Two wisps, entangled as one, drifted softly before Wang Lin and Li Muwan, mirroring their own entwined hands, destined to never be parted.

“That day, you watched as I closed my eyes, and your sorrowful visage, in that final moment, was etched upon my heart…”

“Within this dream, I shall remain with you, watching you depart, watching you awaken… I shall remain in this dream, awaiting you…” Li Muwan gazed upon Wang Lin, her eyes reflecting the gentleness of a tranquil pool, caressing his wrinkled face with a soft whisper.