In the hallowed reaches of the Ancient God Realm, upon a circular landmass, stood a mountain crowned with snow of seven shimmering hues. At its very heart, two figures lingered, bathed in ethereal light: Wang Lin and Li Muwan. They gazed at a bridge that stretched before them, their voices soft whispers in the otherworldly silence. Wang Lin’s eyes, pools of gentle affection, mirrored the tender serenity in Li Muwan’s gaze. This scene, a vision he had yearned for across eons, had finally come to pass after millennia of longing. The falling snow, no longer carrying the weight of sorrow, was far removed from the tragic tableau he had witnessed within the ancestral temple.

“It is a tale long spun, Muwan,” Wang Lin murmured, his voice resonating with profound emotion. “When we depart this place, let us find a haven, a world of simple joys, where I may spend a lifetime recounting its every thread to you. And there are Ping’er and his beloved Qing Yi… you will surely cherish them.”

Li Muwan gently inclined her head, her eyes fixed upon the man before her. Though his face remained unchanged, she discerned within it the subtle etchings of time and trial, the silent stories of hardship endured. She could only begin to fathom the depths of his sacrifice, the immeasurable toll he had paid to awaken her.

“Now, let me lead you, hand in hand, upon the path to tread the very heavens themselves…” Wang Lin raised his gaze to the bridge, his eyes ablaze with a light that had lain dormant for millennia, devoid of all shadows of grief. He clasped Li Muwan’s hand, never once relinquishing his hold since her awakening, fearful that should he release her, she would be lost to him once more. Together, they walked towards the bridge, the Bridge of Heavenly Ascension, their steps resolute as they approached its end, a point where reality blurred into the ethereal sky.

Li Muwan returned the firm grasp of his hand, never to relinquish it once more. She drew warmth from his touch, a warmth that filled her heart with a peace and solace she had not known in countless ages. As they neared the bridge’s end, about to step into the unknown, Wang Lin paused, his left hand rising in a sweeping gesture toward the land behind them. At his command, three beams of light erupted from the void, descending upon the land below.

Within the first beam resided half of a cosmic compass. It merged with the earth, causing the circular land to tremble. The missing half, once ethereal, solidified into being. Etchings formed into patterns like mountain ranges, and fissures transformed into runes on the land. They blazed with blinding light before settling into a complex and unfathomable pattern.

In the second ray rested a massive hand of a celestial clock, descending toward the mountaintop covered in kaleidoscopic snow. The hand then began spinning in a circle over the land. A surge of power emanated from the land, shaking the very foundations of existence.

The third beam contained a pearl, a pearl of pure white—the Heaven Defying Bead. It hovered in the sky, casting a gentle radiance. Its presence completed the world, bringing the compass to full power.

“Gather!” Wang Lin spoke softly. At his command, the earth rumbled as it rapidly shrunk, swirling with thick mist. In moments, the land, the mountain, everything save for the bridge and Wang Lin and Li Muwan, vanished, leaving behind only a palm-sized compass. The compass hummed, spinning wildly in Wang Lin’s left hand, before shrinking again, until only the Heaven Defying Bead remained.

The Heaven Defying Bead was the key to the compass, its heart, and its completed form, indistinguishable from one another. Clutching the bead, Wang Lin turned, finding himself facing nothing but a vast emptiness. Yet, at the edge of that void, he beheld a figure. It was Gu Dao.

Gu Dao stared in disbelief, witnessing the scene, seeing the bridge, the lone structure in that abyss, and the two figures upon it. “This is the answer…” Gu Dao murmured, his face a mask of complex emotions.

Wang Lin smiled faintly. With a flick of his wrist, a colossal vortex appeared behind Gu Dao, a gateway to the Immortal-Astral Continent. After a moment of silent contemplation, Gu Dao bowed deeply to Wang Lin and stepped into the swirling vortex, disappearing without a trace.

As he departed, Wang Lin clasped Li Muwan’s hand, who had also seen the figure but remained silent, and led her onto the bridge, stepping into the realm of the ethereal and unknown. As Wang Lin left, the bridge dissolved into a shower of crystalline light, fusing into the void, fading from existence.

They found themselves in a place of idyllic beauty, like a garden of paradise. In the distance stood a pavilion, furnished with a stone table and two stone chairs. Beside the table sat a man with his back turned to Wang Lin, clad in a grey robe, his hair ashen, his face hidden from view. Behind him stood a servant, ever watchful.

Wang Lin led Li Muwan, materializing from the void into this pastoral scene. As they did, the servant turned, his face lined with age and a flicker of surprise. Wang Lin studied the servant, whose features, though aged, were still familiar. He recognized him at once.

“Lord Ling Tian,” Wang Lin said softly.

“I am, and am not,” the servant said, not replying directly, though the words came from the grey-robed man, who turned, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “This must be Wang’s wife, indeed a fitting match for the esteemed Wang,” the grey-robed man said, smiling at Wang Lin.

Li Muwan’s expression remained serene, silent, as she stood beside Wang Lin, calmly observing the grey-robed figure. Wang Lin met the gaze of the grey-robed man, a smile spreading across his face. Hand in hand with Li Muwan, he stepped forward and, with a flourish of his sleeve, commanded the single stone chair to split, creating two, allowing them both to sit across from the old man. Upon the stone table between them rested a chessboard, its black and…
White pieces scattered across the board were a testament to an unfinished game. “You left our game unfinished so long ago,” the grey-robed figure said with a knowing smile, placing a black stone upon the board. “I have waited ages for this moment. Let us continue.”

Wang Lin studied the board, then looked at the figure. “Are you a Guardian?”

“I am you, and you are me,” the grey-robed man replied, his eyes twinkling. “Tian Yunzi is a spirit bound to a vessel. I left a wisp of my own divine sense within him, which you see before you, clad in grey.” The figure’s face was identical to Tian Yunzi’s, yet Wang Lin sensed a fundamental difference. This was Tian Yunzi, but draped in shades of ash.

“The Realm of Seven Colors, your own fractured echo, created it—a seed later discovered and exploited by the spirit. I confess, I wondered at it. Now, I see how trivially you view the endless cycle of Rebirth. Each imitation of the Heaven Defying Bead within that realm… are they not echoes of your murderous avatar, striving to grasp the missing fragment of truth through countless iterations? And the Dao Scriptures, the Calamity Sutras, are they not a chronicle of your very life?” The grey figure’s eyes shone with reverence. “‘Devote yourself to the Path of Immortality…’ The very *truth* in this represents the true self within the cycle of Rebirth. This axiom is intended to guide all living beings toward the path of finding their true selves within Rebirth, to ultimately transcend its confines.”

“I bear no name. If I am the first to Ascend to the Heavens within this realm of Reverse Dust, then you are the second. Between us, no other shall rise. Except perhaps… your own reflection.” The grey-robed man smiled faintly.

“The Realm-Locking Compass… you crafted it? The spirit… you imprisoned it within?” Wang Lin asked, his voice low. He held Li Muwan’s hand, never loosening his grip as he faced the enigma before him.

“The Fourth Step, Ascension to the Heavens, is the pinnacle of this realm of Reverse Dust. Yet, beyond, in the vastness of the cosmos, there are those who have walked the Fifth Step… perhaps even the Sixth… Before I came to this place, this chessboard already existed.”

“Enough questions. Let us play. It is your turn.”

Wang Lin pondered for a moment, then a faint smile touched his lips. He raised his left hand, revealing a pristine white bead nestled in his palm. He placed it upon the board.

The moment the white stone landed, the entire board shimmered. The black and white stones shifted on their own, as if guided by an unseen hand, performing an intricate dance. Finally, as Li Muwan watched in breathless anticipation, all the black and white stones merged, resolving into two lone pieces—one black, one white. The white stone rested on Wang Lin’s side of the board, the black stone on the side of the grey-robed figure.

“Do you understand?” Wang Lin asked, lifting his gaze to meet the grey figure’s.

“I… understand,” the figure murmured after a long silence, a sigh escaping his lips.

Wang Lin smiled, rising to his feet. He took Li Muwan’s hand, not glancing back at the figure or the chessboard. Instead, he stepped forward, and with Li Muwan, vanished from the space. As he disappeared, the white stone on the chessboard slowly faded, until it was no more, seemingly following Wang Lin into the void.

Wang Lin was gone, taking Li Muwan with him. Upon the Immortal-Astral Continent, only Gu Dao knew what had transpired within the Ancient God Domain.

On a tranquil mountain peak within the ancient Gu Clan lands, Wang Lin sat in meditative stillness, his legs crossed. Li Muwan stood behind him, her gaze filled with gentle affection. He had been seated there for days, seemingly waiting for something. Li Muwan did not know, nor did she wish to. As long as Wang Lin was beside her, she was content. Yet, a question lingered in her heart, one she longed to ask him when he awakened.

Three more days passed. Then, as dusk painted the sky in somber hues, Wang Lin opened his eyes. He looked up. In the sky above, beyond the boundaries of the Immortal-Astral Continent, a figure materialized. A man clad in black, his long hair the color of midnight, radiated an aura of carnage and destruction. He stood on the edge of the continent, his gaze piercing and cold. He found what he sought within the Gu Clan lands: Wang Lin, staring back at him. The figure was Wang Lin’s exact likeness.

After a moment of silence, the black-clad figure lunged into the Immortal-Astral Continent, becoming a streak of darkness heading straight toward the ancient Gu Clan lands, landing before Wang Lin on the mountaintop. He saw Li Muwan, and his cold gaze softened with affection.

“You did not need to come,” Wang Lin said to his reflection, to the murderous avatar before him.

The black-clad man said nothing. He raised his right hand and plucked a single strand of his black hair. As he released it, the strand floated upward, slowly transforming into white.

As the strand of white hair appeared, Wang Lin raised his right hand. In his palm, there was also a single strand of white hair, but as it appeared, it dissipated into nothing.

The black-clad man gazed one last time at Li Muwan, then closed his eyes. His body dissolved into a cloud of black mist, his will extinguished, the mist merging with Wang Lin’s form. Wang Lin absorbed the entirety of the dark mist, and within him, the murderous true self was once again made whole. He turned to Li Muwan, understanding now why this being of Slaughter, though capable of free thought, chose to return to the source, to merge once more.

“For me, it has been five hundred years… for him, countless cycles of Rebirth…”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Li Muwan asked with a smile.

“Did you see him?” Wang Lin asked abruptly.

“See who?” Li Muwan blinked, surprised. She had seen nothing at all.

“It is nothing. Let us go. Did you not wish to see Wang Ping and his wife? Let us find a place where no one knows us.”
“And live a simple life.” Wang Lin smiled as he rose to his feet.

“No more cultivation?” Li Muwan asked, tilting her head. She stood beside Wang Lin.

“Cultivation lies within the heart. Having found one’s true self, any place will do.” Wang Lin laughed, taking Li Muwan into his arms. Together, they became a streak of light, soaring toward the darkening sky beyond the horizon.

“Wang Lin,” Li Muwan’s voice echoed softly. “After the chessboard game ended, what did you two understand that I did not? I couldn’t comprehend a thing…”

The two figures receded into the distance, slowly disappearing into the embrace of twilight.

Unseen by them, nestled in a shadowed corner of Blackrock City, at the foot of the mountain, a lone figure in white stood with her back to the shimmering tapestry of a thousand lights. Her gaze, tear-filled, followed the fading rainbow arcing across the heavens. A single drop, a glistening jewel born of sorrow, traced a path down her cheek and vanished into the folds of her gown.

“Forget it all,” she whispered, her voice a fragile breath on the night air. “Like the fish of ages past, watching the sky-bird vanish into the vast unknown…”

A misty film clouded her eyes, reflecting the weeping soul of a creature confined to the depths, its tears lost and unseen in the watery expanse. “In a former life, we were bird and fish, forever separated by air and water. But in this life…we are not.”

A voice, soft as the caress of a summer breeze, spoke from behind her. A tremor ran through her slender frame. She turned, with a start, to find him bathed in the golden glow of distant lanterns, his smile a beacon in the twilight…

**THE END**