The battle with the Wu Jiu tribe resulted in heavy losses: approximately ten thousand barbarian soldiers died, and fifty thousand barbarian slaves perished.

Although the Wu Jiu tribe also lost about fifteen thousand elite warriors, their losses were equally severe in comparison.

However, for Mo Hua, this was nothing to be happy about.

A Pyrrhic victory…

The wind in Beiyuan remained as sharp as a blade.

Mo Ye stood in the center of the ruins, his charcoal pencil still in hand. The array diagram was complete, its lines ancient and unadorned, yet subtly harmonizing with the pulse of heaven and earth. The wind whistled through the crevices, creating a faint hum, as if the earth whispered in response. He closed his eyes and focused, the miniature array diagram in his sea of consciousness spontaneously circulating, echoing the符lines on the ground, creating a sense of resonance.

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet trembled slightly.

A crack spread from the center of the array, and a faint blue glow seeped from underground, like a long-dormant bloodline throbbing anew. Mo Ye opened his eyes, his pupils contracting—that was the aura of a lingering Fateful Wheel! It wasn’t an illusion or a projection of obsession, but a real “Dao mark,” buried deep beneath Beiyuan, enduring for thousands of years without ever fully vanishing.

He slowly knelt, his fingertips touching the ground.

In an instant, his sea of consciousness roared, and the snow plain reappeared. Above the ruins of the ice palace, the figure in the green robe emerged again. This time, Mo Hua was not facing away, but had turned around, his gaze piercing through the void, looking directly into the young man’s eyes.

“You’ve come,” he said, his voice no longer distant, but as clear as a whisper in his ear.

“Teacher…” Mo Ye’s throat bobbed, “There’s still so much I don’t understand.”

“Then you must ask.” Mo Hua raised his hand, and a rotating astrolabe appeared in the void, inscribed with ancient array patterns. “The beginning of array formations was not for killing, nor for immortality. It was born from humanity’s first awe when gazing at the stars, and germinated from a mother’s first protective circle drawn to shield her infant. That was the most primitive ‘power of愿’: I don’t want you to die, so I stand before you.”

Mo Ye’s heart shook violently.

Power of愿? Not spiritual energy, not runes, not array foundation structures?

“True array formations are born from the human heart’s desires,” Mo Hua continued. “When thousands of people share one愿, even without formal teaching, they can move the Dao of Heaven. Conversely, if an array is set up purely for selfish desires, no matter how exquisite, it will eventually backfire. This is why the ‘Soul Devouring Reversion Array,’ though capable of igniting a false lamp, can only illuminate the light of hell.”

Mo Ye looked down at the array diagram he had drawn, murmuring, “Then the ‘Heart Reversion Fate Illumination Array’ I used that day… was it because I wanted to save them?”

“Precisely,” Mo Hua smiled. “You used your blood as a guide, not because of deep cultivation, but because you had ‘compassion’ in your heart. At that moment, the eight hundred imprisoned souls heard your sincerity, and thus awakened. This is not skill; it is resonance.”

As his voice faded, the astrolabe disintegrated, turning into specks of golden light that flowed into Mo Ye’s glabella. The golden “Heart Seal” suddenly brightened, projecting a phantom image onto his forehead—a complete array diagram he had never seen before, named “The Scroll of First Wishes and Dawn’s Enlightenment.”

At the same time, a muffled thud came from deep within Beiyuan, like a giant beast awakening.

Mo Ye turned sharply, seeing that at the previously collapsed entrance, ice and snow receded on their own, revealing a deep, dark passage. At the end of the passage, a massive bronze gate was vaguely visible. Nine layers of chain patterns were engraved on the gate, and a central depression corresponded precisely to the shape of the mark on his forehead.

He knew that was the path to the “Origin of the Fateful Wheel.”

But he did not proceed immediately.

He took out the broken stele he carried with him and gently placed it in the center of the array diagram. Golden light shone again, and the eight characters “Array Seeks Immortality, Only Love Undying” slowly floated up, then dispersed and recombined, evolving into a new meaning:

“Immortality is not a prolonged lifespan, but the unbroken continuation of the Dao;
Undying is not the eternal preservation of the flesh, but the constant burning of the original intention.”

Mo Ye was stunned.

It turned out that this inscription was originally a riddle, and only those who truly understood the essence of arrays could grasp its full meaning.

He put away his charcoal pencil, about to step towards the bronze gate, when he suddenly heard footsteps behind him.

Lin Xiaoman had appeared at the edge of the ruins at some point, with Bai Lu and Elder Chen closely following. All three were not wearing the official robes of the Array Patrol Division, but old-style array cultivator cloaks, each holding a magical artifact: Lin Xiaoman held Mo Hua’s遗笔 (relic brush), Bai Lu carried a glazed lamp, and Elder Chen held a yellowed ancient book, the original “Nine Pivot True Explanations.”

“Are you going in?” Lin Xiaoman asked.

Mo Ye nodded: “The door left by Teacher awaits only me to open it.”

“We cannot go all the way with you,” she walked closer, extending the relic brush. “But we can give you three things.”

Mo Ye took the brush; the handle was warm, as if it contained a heartbeat.

“This is the first artifact of inheritance. It records the insights of previous array masters and seals Mo Hua’s last fragment of consciousness. When you are lost, it can awaken you.”

Bai Lu stepped forward, lighting the glazed lamp: “This is the ‘Lamp of the Heart,’ refined by me with the prayer-fire of the people of Qizhou. It illuminates not external objects, but only the original heart. If evil thoughts approach, the lamp self-extinguishes; where sincerity reaches, all obstacles are broken. This is the second lamp of aspiration.”

Elder Chen opened the ancient book, and countless light runes flew out page by page, forming a circular array in the air: “This is the third array of collective wisdom. The Nine Pivot True Explanations was not created by one person, but is the condensed wisdom of all righteous array cultivators over a thousand years. You can use it to deduce the unknown, and draw upon the experience of predecessors. Remember, the Way of Arrays never belongs to one person, but is guarded by all under heaven.”

Mo Ye’s hands trembled as he received each item.

With the three items gathered, the Heart Seal on his forehead shone brightly, resonating with the distant bronze gate. The nine illusory chains broke one by one, and with a booming sound, the gate opened a crack. Inside, darkness was like an abyss, yet there seemed to be flickering starlight.

“Go,” Lin Xiaoman said softly. “This trial, you must overcome alone.”

Mo Ye bowed deeply, turned, and stepped into the passage.

Behind him, the great gate slowly closed, cutting off light and shadow.

The passage was extremely long, as if it pierced through the center of the earth.

The walls were covered with ancient murals: humans first drawing circles with bone needles to ward off beasts; ancient people tying knots to form arrays to draw water from the Heavenly River to irrigate dry land; array cultivators sacrificing themselves to arrays, becoming lighthouses in storms; and countless faces weeping, praying, and reaching out in the flames of war…

With every step forward, Mo Ye’s sea of consciousness gained another memory. These were not learned knowledge, but resonances slumbering in his bloodline. He finally understood that “铭心者” (Heart-Engraver) was not about extraordinary talent, but about retaining a sense of pain for the world deep in the soul—feeling pain at the suffering of others, anger at injustice, and sorrow at death. It was this softness that allowed him to hear the whispers of the array.

After an unknown period of walking, the path suddenly opened up.

A circular hall stood before him, its dome embedded with nine star models, corresponding to the Big Dipper plus two hidden auxiliary stars. In the center of the hall, a slowly rotating silver light sphere floated—that was the “Origin of the Fateful Wheel,” rumored to be the core that sustained the array laws of heaven and earth, and the energy source of all orthodox array formations.

However, the surface of the light sphere was covered with cracks, and wisps of black energy seeped out, transforming into distorted runes that writhed like living creatures upon touching the ground.

“The poison of corrupted arrays…” Mo Ye murmured.

Just then, a voice spoke:

“You think you’re here to inherit? In truth, you’re here to atone.”

A person emerged from the shadows, thin and gaunt, with eerily bright eyes. He wore a tattered Daoist robe, with a half-lotus embroidered on his chest—the mark of the highest-ranking grandmaster of the “Life Extension Alliance,” yet completely different from the seven known members.

“Who are you?” Mo Ye cautiously retreated.

“I am the eighth,” the other sneered. “And the only one to escape Beiyuan alive. My name is Lian Sheng, and I was once one of Mo Hua’s most favored disciples.”

Mo Ye was shocked: “Impossible! Teacher never mentioned you!”

“Because he erased my name,” Lian Sheng’s eyes flashed with hatred. “Back then, when the Primordial Lamp was about to extinguish, I proposed using the vital essence of ten thousand people to extend the lamp for a hundred years, in exchange for saving countless people from disaster. But he would rather destroy the lamp than sacrifice a single person! He said ‘the Way of Arrays tolerates no compromise,’ and personally cast me into the dungeon, sealed my memories, and exiled me to the frontier!”

Mo Ye shook his head: “What you are doing now is the true betrayal! You create living array puppets, refine infant souls into lamp wicks—how is this different from a demon?”

“Different?” Lian Sheng cackled wildly. “I merely completed his regret! If he had listened to me then, why would so many innocent people have died in vain? All I seek is a world where everyone can live! This is true compassion!”

He suddenly raised his hand, and a black crystal core appeared in his palm, clearly a “false Fateful Wheel” condensed from countless resentments!

“Watch carefully, child!” he roared. “This is the future! No sacrifice, no choice, just offer a little flesh and blood, and you can gain ten years of life! This is not evil; this is progress!”

Before his words finished, the false Fateful Wheel erupted in towering black flames, instantly engulfing half the hall. The true Fateful Wheel vibrated violently, its cracks widening, on the verge of collapsing.

Mo Ye gritted his teeth and swiftly drew an array diagram.

“Heart Reversion Fate Illumination Array – Modified!”

He used Mo Hua’s relic brush as a guide, the heart lamp as a medium, and the array of collective wisdom as a foundation, combining the three to outline an unprecedented composite array formation on the ground. The array’s center pointed directly at the false Fateful Wheel, but instead of attacking, it released layers of ripple-like fluctuations—pure “愿力 waves.”

At first, there was no reaction.

But soon, from within the black flames came the cries of infants, the sighs of old people, women calling for their children, men roaring in anger… countless swallowed souls began to struggle. They had not offered themselves willingly but had been tricked, robbed, and forcibly drained of their lives.

Mo Ye knelt, his voice choked: “I know you are unwilling… but please trust me once, and don’t hate anymore. Hatred only nourishes darkness; only forgiveness can bring back the light.”

His tears dripped onto the array diagram, turning into golden rune points.

A miracle happened.

A child’s soul stopped crying, turned to look at the frenzied vengeful spirits chasing behind, and softly said, “Brother, stop fighting, Mother is still waiting for us to eat at home.”

Another elder released his grip on his enemy’s throat, sighing, “Forget it, everyone’s dead, what’s left to hate?”

A husband and wife embraced and wept: “We can finally be together again…”

As each soul let go of its obsession, the black flames of the false Fateful Wheel gradually weakened.

Lian Sheng roared: “Stop! How can you betray me? It was I who gave you existence!”

“What you gave was pain.” Mo Ye looked up, his gaze burning like a torch. “You say you want to save people, but you don’t see ‘people’ at all. You only see numbers, lifespan, efficiency. But true array formations are about seeing every tear, hearing every cry, feeling the warmth of every heartbeat!”

He stood up, his Heart Seal burning like the sun on his forehead: “What Teacher taught me was not how to draw arrays, but how to love people. You say you were unwilling? I was unwilling too! I was unwilling for that family to die, unwilling for the common people to suffer, unwilling for fate to be so capricious! But precisely because I was unwilling, I must uphold the bottom line—never fight evil with evil, never exchange hope for sacrifice!”

The Origin of the Fateful Wheel sensed this pure will and suddenly erupted in clear light.

The nine stars shone together, silver light cascading down like a waterfall, completely purifying the false Fateful Wheel.

Lian Sheng screamed, his body disintegrating inch by inch, muttering in his dying moments: “Perhaps… I was wrong… but if I had to do it again… I would still choose… immortality…”

His body turned to ash and scattered with the wind.

Silence returned to the hall.

Mo Ye collapsed to the ground, utterly exhausted, but still looked up at the Fateful Wheel.

It was still turning, cracked, but not extinguished.

At this moment, the relic brush suddenly floated in mid-air, its tip dipped in invisible ink, writing three lines of text in the void:

“The Fateful Wheel can be repaired, not by skill, but by heart.
The Array Pavilion does not rely on one person, but on collective will.
From today, widely open the mountain gates, and impart knowledge to all under heaven.”

Mo Ye smiled through his tears.

He knew this was Teacher’s final entrustment, and the beginning of a new era.

Three months later, the Array Pavilion officially issued the “铭心令” (Heart-Engraver Edict).

All who wished to protect all living beings, regardless of birth, status, or aptitude, could sign up for the “铭心试” (Heart-Engraver Trial). The trials no longer focused on rune drawing or spiritual energy control, but instead presented real dilemmas:

A plague is about to spread, and you have only one chance to set up an array. Do you save the sick, or prevent the spread?
Two array cultivators are trapped in a desperate situation; one is your closest friend, the other a stranger. Who do you save first?
If restarting the Primordial Lamp requires sacrificing a hundred strangers, is it permissible?

There was no standard answer, only the original heart.

The first batch of passers was only seventeen people, but they came from all seven prefectures, including farmers, fisherwomen, blind children, old soldiers… They did not possess magnificent array techniques, but they knew what it meant to “not want to see others die.”

Mo Ye personally taught them, the first lesson still in the East Sea fishing village.

He brought his students to the small boat where he had once saved the girl, pointed at the sea, and asked, “Look at the waves, one after another, seemingly chaotic, yet pulling at each other. Array formations are the same. One person’s power is weak, but when hearts are connected, they can unleash a tide that changes the world.”

A student raised a hand: “Sir, what if someone abuses array formations?”

Mo Ye looked north, where the Chang Sheng Xu (Immortal Ruin) once stood, now a school built to take in orphans and teach them basic array principles.

“Then let more people learn to use them correctly,” he said. “Darkness will always exist, but we don’t have to fight it; we just need to light more lamps.”

Late at night, he sat alone on a reef, taking out the Sophora leaf that had fallen into his palm.

The characters on the leaf veins changed again:

“You have become a light for others.”

He gently stroked the leaf, softly responding:

“Because someone first illuminated me.”

The sea breeze brushed his face, Sophora flowers fell like rain.

The Big Dipper hung high, ancient and unchanging.

And in the depths of the distant Western Regions desert, in an ancient city buried by yellow sand, a broken stone stele quietly surfaced. Half an array diagram was carved on the stele, with a line of small characters faintly discernible beside it:

“Await the Heart-Sealed one, to jointly initiate the final chapter.”