A shadow of sentiment, ill-defined, clung to Wang Lin. His memory of Xi Zifeng was not profound, yet indelible. Like a mortal’s life, one remembers those they loved, and those who loved them.

Such a woman, one could gently refuse, one could release from obligations, but never, ever, forget.

The wounds within Xi Zifeng’s spirit were laid bare beneath Wang Lin’s gaze. Scars etched deep in her very essence, repeated over time, festered into an incurable ailment. And but recently, she had suffered yet another grievous assault upon her soul.

“How was she injured?” Wang Lin’s eyes swept over the hundred or so cultivators gathered before him, settling finally upon an elder. A flicker of recognition sparked within him – he seemed to recall this man among those he had led from the Thunder Immortal Realm in days long past.

The elder, pierced by Wang Lin’s gaze, flushed with fervor and excitement. Many of that ancient band held Wang Lin in profound gratitude, and as his name rose to prominence in the centuries since, their respect had only deepened into fervent adoration.

“Benefactor!” the elder cried, his voice trembling, as he bowed deeply, fists clasped in reverence.

At the fore, the Thunder Immortal Palace emissary, the middle-aged man kneeling, shuddered violently. His spirit quaked, and despair bloomed in his eyes as he turned to the elder, pleading etched upon his face. But the plea shattered with the elder’s next words, like the breaking of a dam.

It was as if the heavens themselves were collapsing within his mind, a thunderous roar that deafened all thought.

“It was *him*! Were it not for his constant harassment of Xi Zifeng these past weeks, her spiritual wounds would never have festered so grievously!” The elder pointed a trembling finger at the kneeling man.

“Zhou Congyun, you spout lies from a poisoned tongue!” the middle-aged man shrieked, gripped by terror. “As an emissary of the Thunder Immortal Palace, I am authorized to command obedience! Your slander is baseless! What purpose does it serve?!” He scrambled back, his face contorted with fear, shouting wildly.

“Venerable One, do not heed his venomous words! All I have done, I have done in the name of preparing Luo Tian for war! I would never harm Xi Zifeng; we were once friends! How could I…” He continued to babble as he retreated swiftly, putting a hundred lengths between himself and Wang Lin in the blink of an eye.

Wang Lin, his eyes still carrying the chilling malice that had crushed the remnants of the Xiang clan upon Donglin Star, turned to face the rapidly fleeing man. The truth of the matter, to Wang Lin’s keen mind, was as clear as a starry night.

“To prey upon a woman so fair, you deserve to die.” A palpable killing intent shone in Wang Lin’s eyes. The further Xi Zifeng receded into the shadows, the lower she bowed her head, the greater Wang Lin’s ire became.

Eight centuries had passed, and all was changed. The dreams of red blossoms last night, the obscured visage of today, filled Wang Lin with a sense of loss, the ache of time and the fading echoes of friends gone by.

Fixing the fleeing man with an icy stare, Wang Lin slowly raised his right hand.

“You cannot kill me!” the man cried, his voice cracking with desperation. “I am an emissary of the Thunder Immortal Palace, charged with preparing for war! I bear the seal of the Palace, and to kill me is to make an enemy of the entire Thunder Immortal Palace! You obstruct Luo Tian’s defense, making you an enemy of all Luo Tian! A foe of the Four Great Star Regions and their united war effort!”

“Though my cultivation is meager, I am still a force against the invaders from beyond! I fight for the glory of our realm, I dedicate my very life to its protection! You cannot kill me! Grant me at least a chance to face the enemy, to die on the field of battle!” His voice was laced with the fear of death.

In his youth, he had been famed for his silver tongue, and now, in the throes of mortality, that talent surged forth once more!

“To die in battle, I would have no regrets! But I cannot bear to perish here, before I have even had a chance to offer my life to Luo Tian! I have made mistakes, but none that warrant death! If you must take my life, grant me but a century more, that I might fight for our world!”

Any ordinary cultivator would have been moved by such a plea, perhaps even moved to spare the man, allowing him to flee. His words were filled with righteousness, with the selfless devotion of one willing to die for the cause.

In truth, throughout his life, this man had used his silver tongue to gain great advantage, even securing his position as an emissary of the Thunder Immortal Palace through sheer eloquence.

But today, he faced Wang Lin. A man hardened by countless schemes and treacherous individuals. Wang Lin saw through the man’s facade with ease. Every word was but a wisp of smoke, a fleeting fabrication.

As Wang Lin’s right hand descended, the retreating man uttered a heart-wrenching scream. His body convulsed, and sprays of blood erupted from every pore, transforming him into a crimson phantom.

“That whore has been mistreated by many over the centuries, why do you only slay me? If you were so capable, why not kill them all!” With these last words, the man’s physical form burst asunder with the sound of an exploding star, his soul scattered into the void.

To slay a Nirvana Scryer was no more difficult than crushing an ant beneath one’s heel.

A profound silence fell over the area. Even the elder, who had spoken for Xi Zifeng, stood in stunned awe, his heart pounding in his chest. They had sensed Wang Lin’s power before, but to witness the effortless obliteration of a Nirvana Scryer, extinguished without the slightest resistance, filled them with a bone-chilling dread.

Wang Lin’s icy gaze swept over the hundred or so cultivators, and then he strode forward. With a speed that defied perception, he passed through their midst, and in the blink of an eye, he and Xi Zifeng vanished.

From afar, a gentle beam of light sped towards them, coalescing into a single pill that hovered before the elder.

“Ingest this pill in seclusion, and feel the spirit of the savage beast within. It will amplify your cultivation!”

The pill pulsed with potent spiritual energy. A single breath of its aura left the elder feeling refreshed, as if he had meditated for months.
In the desolate expanse of the Celestial Starfield, upon a half-forgotten cultivation world, snow fell like feathers from the heavens. A pristine blanket shrouded the land, muffling all sound. Upon the northern peak of a solitary mountain, robed in white, silence reigned supreme.

At the summit, Xi Zifeng stood with bowed head, her face ashen. Tears she held captive, trapped within her breast, as she stood in silent sorrow.

Before her, Wang Lin gazed upon the woman with a complex gaze. He sighed softly, and with a gentle wave of his right hand, a stream of primordial energy flowed forth, embracing her very spirit. Within moments, the ravages she had suffered began to mend.

Xi Zifeng trembled, her head lowered further still.

The energy, having healed her wounds, did not dissipate. Instead, it surged towards her face, and a chorus of soft, cracking sounds echoed in the wind. The jagged scars that had marred her beauty, wounds resistant to the healing arts of ordinary cultivators, began to crumble into fragments. The snow-laden wind carried them away, erasing the marks of her pain.

Slowly, amidst the swirling debris of her former suffering, the delicate features of her face were revealed. Save for the subtle traces of time, she was as beautiful as she had been in ages past.

The lithe maiden of old now possessed a subtle aura of sorrow, like a woman burdened by years, yet still untouched by any hand but her own.

Xi Zifeng reached up, touching her smooth skin. Tears flowed anew, unbidden. Eight centuries had passed since she had defiled her own visage, and never did she dream that the figure from her memories would one day restore her to her former self.

“In my life, I have taken but two disciples, named Xie Qing and Shisan…” Wang Lin spoke, his voice soft as the falling snow, his eyes upon the dancing flakes. “Would you, perhaps, become my third?”

Xi Zifeng shuddered, her silence punctuated by a fresh torrent of tears.

Wang Lin said no more, patiently awaiting her choice. He was not a man devoid of compassion, yet he lacked the strength to shoulder all burdens. He could suppress his own desires, but some things, even he, could not control.

He could not erase the love she bore him eight centuries ago, nor the unwavering devotion that had persisted through the years.

Unlike Li Qianmei, who had chosen to forget their shared past, Wang Lin could not bring himself to utter the words of dismissal that would crush the fragile Xi Zifeng.

For within the bonds of men and women, there remained a myriad of choices.

Time slipped by, the snow falling ever thicker, forming a glistening curtain between them…

A tender smile touched Xi Zifeng’s lips. For the first time, she raised her head, gazing long and deeply at the figure standing within the snowy veil.

She sought to etch his image into the deepest chambers of her heart, merging it with the echoes of the past.

And then, with a graceful movement, she knelt upon the snow.

This one act severed the chains of eight hundred years.

This one act resolved an ancient debt.

This one act, though bittersweet, brought Xi Zifeng a measure of release.

Kneeling upon the white ground, she whispered, “Disciple greets Master…” Two final tears traced paths down her smooth cheeks, dissolving into the snow and leaving tiny, fleeting hollows.

But the falling snow soon filled those fleeting tears…

“Come with me,” Wang Lin said softly.

“My home… is in Luo Zhi,” Xi Zifeng replied, her voice barely audible.

Wang Lin was silent for a long moment. Then, with a sweep of his hand, a surge of immense energy poured into Xi Zifeng, fueling her spirit and flooding her with his own profound understanding.

Under this potent infusion, Xi Zifeng’s cultivation soared past the Yang Reality stage, reaching directly to the early Nirvana Scryer realm!

But the transfer did not end there. It continued to surge, forcefully elevating her cultivation to the Cleansing Nirvana stage before gradually slowing and finally ceasing. Three seals were then placed upon her, suppressing her burgeoning power, so she might have time to comprehend and absorb the gifts she had received.

Such a feat of transmission, even for one of Wang Lin’s stature, was a task of immense difficulty.