The woman in violet silk nodded regally, rising to her feet. With a mere sway of her slender frame, she and her emerald-clad companion prepared to depart the humble vessel. As she turned to leave, the violet-clad figure cast a deep, lingering gaze upon Wang Lin, as though etching his very essence into the chambers of her memory.

Yet, as she was about to vanish into the misty air, a moment of hesitation seized her. The maiden in green had already gracefully leaped from the boat, invoking the ancient art of levitation to soar through the rain-laden sky.

“Sister, we must hasten hence!” the youthful voice echoed through the downpour.

Caught in her contemplation, the violet-clad woman turned back towards Wang Lin, his form huddled in the corner of the rickety boat, a tremor of chill passing through his frame. With a soft, deliberate step, she approached. Her slender hand, adorned with rings of jade and silver, brushed against a hidden pouch. From within emerged a cloak of thick, woven wool. She gently draped it over Wang Lin’s shivering shoulders, her voice a mere whisper, lost in the symphony of the rain.

“Is it truly… a fragment of a past life…?” she murmured, a sigh escaping her lips as she turned and followed her companion into the storm.

The rain intensified, cascading upon the river with a relentless fury. Within the inky blackness of the night, the solitary boat drifted aimlessly, exuding an aura of profound loneliness.

Ripples danced upon the water’s surface, disrupting the vessel’s gentle sway. Through the veil of rain, the boat receded into the distance, until it became naught but a phantom shape swallowed by the meeting of sky and water. Only a faint flicker of lamplight pierced the gloom, a stubborn ember in the vast darkness.

From afar, the flickering light atop the humble boat resembled a solitary leaf, adrift in the currents of a dream, sailing ever onward towards the horizon of slumber.

The ceaseless drumming of rain upon the boat echoed through the night, yet Wang Lin remained deep in a peaceful slumber.

A delicate fragrance emanated from the cloak draped upon him, a subtle perfume that tickled his senses and wove itself into his dreams.

“Xu Fei… Sister Zhou… Wang Zhuo… Wang Hao… Zhang Hu…” he muttered in his sleep, a string of names tumbling from his lips. Had the two women remained, they would have been struck dumb with astonishment!

But they were gone, beyond the reach of his murmured words.

Wang Lin’s dream unfolded like another life, a phantom existence where he encountered Xu Fei and Sister Zhou within the hallowed halls of Heng Yue Sect. Even a fleeting image of a white bird, a phantom of the mountain, graced the landscape of his sleep…

As the hours of darkness wore on, the lingering spark of the lamp, once a steady beacon, flickered and died, merging with the all-consuming black.

With the breaking of dawn, the rain ceased its relentless assault. A sliver of light crept over the horizon, yet it could not entirely banish the shadows, leaving the world shrouded in a dimness that seemed to cast a pall upon the heart.

The river, swollen by the night’s downpour, had risen subtly, a fact barely perceptible save for the muddy residue left along the banks.

Borne upon the current, a lone boat drifted lazily towards the shore, drawn inexorably closer by the relentless tug of the water. Soon, it was but a few paces distant.

With a final, resounding thud, the boat became mired in the mud and silt of the bank, grounded fast and unyielding.

Within the humble cabin, Wang Lin’s head struck against the wall as the boat lurched to a halt. He awoke with a start, confusion clouding his eyes as he gazed about the interior. Slowly, fragments of the previous night returned to him, yet the two ethereal women had vanished without a trace.

Memories of the night before, like shards of a dream, lingered in his mind, the faces of the two beauties refusing to fade from his thoughts.

“Was it merely a figment of my imagination…?” he wondered, struggling to discern reality from illusion. He glanced down, his gaze falling upon the cloak, undeniably a woman’s garment, and with that, clarity began to seep back into his mind.

Yet, his thoughts were not solely consumed by the two women. The incredibly vivid dream, the phantom encounter at the Heng Yue Sect, the familiar faces of Xu Fei and the others, all weighed heavily upon him.

Bewilderment clouded his thoughts. The candle, now naught but a cold, blackened stub, offered no solace, leaving the interior of the cabin shrouded in a dim, uncertain light.

After a long silence, Wang Lin cautiously ventured from the cabin, his gaze sweeping over the dim landscape, the朦朧 world that surrounded him. The distance was obscured by mist, yet a gust of wind carried the scent of rain-soaked earth, invigorating his senses. He drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp morning air.

“Could it be that what the heart dwells upon by day, the mind conjures in dreams by night…?” Wang Lin stood at the bow of the boat, the stillness of dawn enveloping him. A profound silence reigned, unbroken by any sound, as if he were the sole inhabitant of this world.

As he gazed out at the world, an unexpected pang of loneliness struck him, a sentiment he could not fully comprehend. It emanated from within, spreading through every fiber of his being. He stared blankly at the dim sky, the feeling of solitude growing ever more intense.

A gentle breeze stirred, whipping his dark hair behind him. His simple garments, creased and rumpled, offered little resistance to the wind.

“It is cold…” Wang Lin muttered, his voice barely audible. He could not fathom why, in this moment, he felt such profound isolation, a yearning for home, for his parents, for everything that was familiar.

He even longed for a woman whose face eluded his grasp…

It was as though an unseen force was coalescing within the very fabric of the world, merging with his spirit. Unbidden, tears welled in his eyes, tracing glistening paths down his cheeks.

“Why… am I weeping…?” Wang Lin raised a trembling hand, wiping away a teardrop. As he stared at the moisture on his fingertip, an overwhelming wave of sorrow washed over him, a grief he could not explain.

“What is happening to me…?” he whispered, sinking down upon the damp deck of the boat, heedless of the puddles that clung to the wood. In the pre-dawn stillness, his tears fell silently, merging with the rainwater.

The sensation of being utterly alone, the sole inhabitant of the world, was strangely familiar, as though he had experienced this profound solitude countless times, wandering the earth in silent contemplation, his soul forever shadowed by loneliness.

A shimmering haze clouded his vision. He saw, as if in a dream, a vast abyss stretching before him, its depths filled with an irresistible force, a hunger that could devour the very sky. Upon the precipice, nestled within a crevice in the stone, sat a solitary figure, utterly alone in the face of eternity.
Silence reigned, broken only by the mournful sigh of unseen currents. A lone figure stood with his back turned, his face hidden from Wang Lin’s view. Yet, even in the stoic posture, Wang Lin sensed an aching loneliness, a profound sorrow that resonated deep within his soul.

A fleeting vision then took form – a youth clad in robes of purest white, long, silver hair cascading down his back, wandering through a starlit void. His silhouette, too, was cloaked in the heavy mantle of solitude.

Wang Lin witnessed much in those moments, and tears welled in his eyes, a grief that seemed to emanate from the very core of his being, from the essence of the world itself. It was as if the world was but a dream, and within its familiar silence and isolation, he had stumbled upon a remnant of ancient pain.

Beneath a somber sky, adrift in a humble sampan, Wang Lin gazed upon the water’s surface for what felt like an eternity.

A sudden gust of frigid wind pierced the air, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, he raised his left hand, directing his fingers towards a nearby candle stand. With a flicker, a tiny flame sparked to life, steadily growing brighter.

Unaware of his own actions, Wang Lin remained lost in his daze, his eyes still fixed upon the water, carrying the weight of an unknown sorrow.

In the deepening twilight, the burgeoning flame gradually formed a flickering beacon, its light casting dancing shadows about. Though faint, the candlelight exuded a fragile warmth, a desperate struggle against the encroaching darkness.

From afar, the figure within the sampan, bathed in the warm glow, seemed to emanate a palpable air of desolation.

As the hours drifted onward, the heavens slowly began to brighten, chasing away the shadows from the sky, the land, and the water. The world began to sharpen into focus, the distant, hazy mountains revealing their verdant hues.

But above, the tempestuous storm clouds still lingered, moving with glacial pace. Then, from the heart of the mountains, a solitary bird, black as ink, took flight. With a cry that seemed to echo in the very air, it pierced the swirling clouds, soaring above the turbulent expanse. Circling several times, it suddenly turned and flew directly towards Wang Lin.

Swiftly, the bird drew near. Bathed in the growing light, Wang Lin slowly raised his head. He beheld a creature of purest white, swooping past him with a piercing cry. It seemed to cast a glance upon him, its eyes reflecting a sorrow that resonated deeply within Wang Lin’s own heart. Stunned, he watched as the bird vanished into the distance.

As the bird faded from view, the sorrow within him began to subside. Inside the sampan, the flickering candle flame dwindled, returning to its original, fragile state.

“What… what has come over me?” Wang Lin whispered, as if awakening from a trance. He looked down at a single tear clinging to his fingertip. As he watched, the crystalline droplet finally broke free and fell.

After a long silence, Wang Lin rose, carrying the lingering echo of the inexplicable grief. He gathered his meager belongings, carefully folding the purple-clad woman’s coat and placing it within his worn satchel. With the bag upon his back, he stepped off the sampan.

As he reached the shore, he cast a final glance back at the weathered vessel, then turned and began to walk.

But then, a deafening roar erupted from the heavens. In the heart of the storm clouds, two streaks of vibrant light tore through the sky, as if cleaving the very fabric of reality. One pulsed with an ethereal, watery luminescence. As it passed directly above Wang Lin, it halted abruptly. The radiant streak dissolved, revealing a woman in robes of azure blue. She gazed down at Wang Lin, a look of bewildered recognition in her eyes.

“Alas…” she whispered, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

“What troubles you, Sister Liu?” A voice echoed from the second, fading streak of light. A handsome young man appeared, his gaze filled with concern.

“It is nothing,” she murmured, shaking her head. “That scholar… I feel as though I have seen him somewhere before.” With a last look at Wang Lin, she transformed once more into a streak of light and sped away.

“He is but a mortal. We must hasten to rejoin our sect and journey towards the source of the golden radiance,” the young man replied, glancing down at Wang Lin before following after the woman.