The fisherman, pulling down his bamboo hat, revealed a man of perhaps thirty years. He was not powerfully built, but rather lean, with a bearing of easy grace, looking more like a scholar than a toiler of the river. He held up his catch, the sunlight glinting off the fish’s belly in flashes of white, hinting at a quality beyond the ordinary.

With a gentle smile, the man placed the fish in a water-filled clay pot. Lifting the pot with a sure hand, he strode away.

Wang Lin watched, his mind swirling with a nascent realization, causing a flicker of unreality before his eyes. Silently, he followed the man, who after a quarter hour’s walk, arrived at a simple dwelling nestled within a bamboo grove along the riverbank.

The cottage was enclosed by a bamboo fence, forming a small courtyard. Within, domestic fowl squawked and pecked, circling a woman great with child, vying for scattered grains.

She wore plain homespun, yet could not conceal her comely features. In her hand she held a winnowing basket, and with a smile, she scattered handfuls of feed to the eager birds.

Pausing with weariness, she placed one hand on her back, her brow furrowed with a light sweat. Raising her head like a startled fawn, she gazed towards the gate, as if awaiting the return of her beloved.

The afternoon sun was mild, and soon, the soft crunch of approaching footsteps echoed through the bamboo. The woman’s smile broadened.

“Su’er, I caught a fish for you!” A voice called, as the bamboo gate creaked open. The man entered, holding the clay pot, his face radiant.

“Just a sudden craving for fish. I could have endured. You shouldn’t…” The woman’s eyes were filled with affection.

The man laughed and embraced his wife, leading her into the cottage.

Soon, smoke curled from the chimney, rising high into the air, a wisp of grey against the green, lending a pastoral beauty to the scene.

Wang Lin’s form hovered within the bamboo grove, watching silently. He understood, with a sinking heart, that this was likely the most recent incarnation of his Third Soul.

Three days later, in the dead of night, the heavens churned. Wind and cloud writhed in a violent dance, as thunder roared and heavy rain lashed the earth, drumming against the bamboo and the cottage. The world seemed joined together by the rain, illuminated only by flashes of lightning that revealed the bamboo grove in stark glimpses.

Inside the cottage, the pregnant woman lay upon her bed, writhing in pain, her hands clenched tightly in the bedclothes. A midwife attended her.

Outside the room, the man stood calmly, gazing up at the storm-wracked night, though the tight clenching of his fists betrayed his inner turmoil.

As time stretched on, the woman’s cries of pain grew weaker, piercing the man’s heart. Yet his expression remained unchanged, his eyes gleaming with an inner light as he looked up at the rain-swept, ink-black sky.

“I, Xie Dongming, have studied the scriptures since childhood, understanding reason and knowing the nature of all things. As an official, I brought prosperity to the people. Since my retirement, I have harbored no grudges. In my thirty-three years, I have never knowingly acted against my conscience!”

“Heaven! As my child is born, why torment my wife so cruelly?!” The man slammed his fist against a bamboo wall, blood trickling down his fingers, mingling with the rain on the ground.

In the instant the blood touched the water, a tremendous thunderclap shook the heavens. In its wake, a newborn’s cry rang out from within the cottage. The man started, his composure shattered by elation. He turned as the midwife emerged, sweat-drenched but smiling kindly, holding a newborn babe.

“Congratulations, Master Xie! Mother and child are safe!”

The man rushed forward, glancing at the child before hastening into the room, his concern focused on his wife. She lay upon the bed, pale but smiling weakly, gazing up at him. “It’s a boy,” she whispered.

“Rest, Su’er. I have already chosen his name. If it were a boy, his name will be Xie Qing! I wish him to grow like the green bamboo, upright and untainted, possessing the grace of a great scholar!” The man laughed joyously. Behind him, the infant in the midwife’s arms seemed to cease its crying, opening its eyes with a strange, inner light. The warmth of the room, the storm raging outside, and the man’s laughter mingled, reaching Wang Lin, who still floated outside the cottage. Wang Lin staggered, a maelstrom of thunderous echoes within his mind. He stumbled backward, staring at the light spilling from the cottage, his eyes wide with disbelief. Though he had suspected the truth, its confirmation struck him like a tempest. In that instant, he heard nothing but a single voice resonating through the heavens.

“Xie Qing… Xie Qing… Xie Qing… The Third Soul is Xie Qing!” Wang Lin opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable. His mind was a chaos of surging waves. He had speculated upon the identity of the Third Soul, imagining a mortal, a cultivator, a beast, or even a plant. Never could he have conceived that the Third Soul would be Xie Qing… his own disciple!

Wang Lin’s face was ashen. He retreated involuntarily. He alone knew the identity of the Third Soul, a truth that presented him with an agonizing choice: to kill, or not to kill! The heavens roared. Lightning flashed and rain fell with renewed fury, whipped by a gale that danced like a heavenly river.

Wang Lin would never forget that on this very planet, Qing Ling Star, he had wandered lost, seeking enlightenment, questioning the great scholars about the Dao. He had asked everyone he could, finally turning to Xie Qing. It was this man who had, in that moment, given him clarity and allowed him to break through. He could never forget that upon the peaks of Qing Ling Star, he sat in meditation, and Xie Qing, though aged, had insisted on climbing to him in his mortal body, kneeling before him, seeking the Dao with all his heart!

“In this life, I have striven to understand the laws of heaven and earth, to illuminate all with knowledge, and to enlighten the people. Now, approaching the age of understanding fate, I have suddenly realized… that I am but a fish in a teacup…” These were the first words spoken by Xie Qing as he ascended the mountain, words Wang Lin had heard, understood only in part, and never truly pondered.

At that time, he had no reason to delve into the meaning of the last phrase. Even if he had, it would have remained an enigma.

But now, after chasing the Third Soul through countless reincarnations, after seeing the Third Soul reborn hundreds of times as a fish in the rivers of Qing Ling Star, at the moment of realizing that the Third Soul was Xie Qing, Wang Lin’s mind reeled. He understood!

“I am but a fish in a teacup…” Wang Lin looked up at the cottage, at the warmth within. His expression was bitter as Xie Qing’s words echoed in his mind. He understood.

Why had he encountered Su Dao in the Dream Dao, and been guided to become a great scholar in Zhao, and even on Vermillion Bird? All was cause and effect. Wang Lin had believed his karmic understanding complete, yet found that karma remained, visible yet intangible.

“Long ago, I inadvertently enlightened Xie Qing, accepting him as a disciple. He is the Third Soul of the Seven-Colored Immortal. Through this event, I created a karmic tie! That was the cause! And because of that, Su Dao appeared in my Dream Dao…”

“In reality, he is my disciple. In the Dream Dao, I am his disciple. This is a karmic cycle! I should have understood sooner…” Wang Lin staggered, taking a step back. As his foot fell, the heavens shook. The entire sky shattered into fragments, the earth heaved and rolled as if dragons stirred beneath. The ground, the bamboo grove, all crumbled and vanished. The rain vaporized, the thunder ceased, leaving only the cottage, radiating warmth and happiness.

Wang Lin took a second step backward. As his foot touched down, the cottage twisted, images flickering as if reality itself had fractured. Then, it blurred, fading into nothingness, consumed by the void. Wang Lin’s form also wavered. When clarity returned, he stood within the first illusion of Clearwater. Clearwater opened his eyes, gazing at Wang Lin with a sigh. His face still etched with bitterness, Wang Lin murmured words only he could hear, taking a third step. As this third step landed, the past of Clearwater, the royal palace of the Qing Shui Kingdom, the blood-soaked land, all collapsed. The collapse shattered the palace, the earth, and the sky. Even the stains of dried blood became dust, swirling upwards to form a gigantic vortex in the sky. The vortex spun faster and faster, transforming into a monstrous visage. The grimace opened its mouth, releasing a silent roar, and swallowed Wang Lin and Clearwater. In an instant, they disappeared into the nothingness. All was scattered into the past. The illusion had broken. The Cave World.

The Immortal World.

Upon a mountain peak, Wang Lin and Clearwater opened their eyes simultaneously. All that had occurred was like a dream, so real that they could hardly distinguish it from reality. Wang Lin’s face was pale. He looked up at the sky, his eyes filled with inner turmoil. “The Third Soul… is him…”