Speaking falsehoods is a skill. To speak falsehoods brazenly in front of everyone is a great skill. But to speak falsehoods earnestly in front of a group of late-stage Jin Dan cultivators, the barbarian generals, great elders, and great chieftains of various tribes, and even in the esteemed presence of the two Wu Zhu adults—even if he…

Snow fell silently, covering the thousand stone steps of Beiyuan. The snow outside the bronze gate was three chi deep, yet no one dared to clear it, as if not just the Wheel of Destiny, but the heartbeat of an era, slumbered behind that gate.

Bailu, draped in an old formation robe, stood before the gate for three days and three nights, neither eating nor drinking, only connecting her spirit to the Formation of Collective Wisdom. The seventeen Mark-Minded Ones had all dispersed, each retreating to the mountains, teaching in village schools, or practicing medicine in desolate towns. Only she remained here, like a withered bamboo that refused to fall.

“You said you would return.” She gazed at the mottled patterns on the bronze gate, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the wind and snow. “You said it was only slumber, not departure… but for these ten years, I’ve heard the Echo Tower weeping every night.”

Suddenly, a faint light emerged from the crack in the door, like a firefly just igniting. The light was not intense, but it made the entire snowy expanse ripple with a silvery halo. Bailu abruptly looked up, seeing the projection of the Wheel of Destiny slowly emerge from the gap in the door. It was no longer a complete circle, but a broken arc, hanging silently in the air.

You’ve come.

A thought was conveyed, not through words, but directly imprinted into her sea of consciousness. It was Mo Ye’s voice, yet fainter than before, like a wisp of breath drifting from an extremely distant place.

“Where are you?” Bailu asked, her voice trembling. “Are you still alive? Or… is it just a lingering obsession?”

I am alive, and not alive. I am part of the Wheel of Destiny, and also the shadow in your memories.

The projection swayed slightly, showing the scene beneath Beiyuan: the Wheel of Destiny still rotated, but at its center was a humanoid phantom, sitting cross-legged, hands clasped in a mudra, its face indistinct. That was Mo Ye’s soul, which had been refined into the “Light of Vows,” never to depart for all eternity.

“You’re mad!” Bailu shouted furiously. “You said you wanted to be the first ray of light, but no one told you to burn yourself out! You could clearly wake up, you could walk out of here, you could…” Her voice choked, tears streamed down, creating two small indentations in the snow.

If I walk out this door, the Wheel of Destiny will become unbalanced. The pseudo-wish seed is not extinguished, and the fear in human hearts remains. As long as there are people willing to abandon themselves for illusory eternal life, it will be reborn. And I must remain in the deepest part, to be that thorn that reminds the world of the existence of pain.

Bailu was silent for a long time, then finally whispered, “Then tell me, is it worth it? To trade a living person for a world that may never truly awaken?”

The Wheel of Destiny vibrated gently, and the projection changed. This time, scenes from various parts of the Seven Provinces appeared:

In the northwest borderland, an old formation master was teaching children how to draw a rain-calling formation. A child asked, “Grandpa, will setting up formations harm people?” The old man paused his brush, looking into the distance, “Yes. That’s why we must learn, understand, and fear.”

In a southern water village, a woman knelt by the river, casting a paper filled with regret into the flowing water. The writing on the paper was clear: “I once extended my husband’s life by three years, but took the life of a neighbor’s infant. Now I wish to atone with the rest of my life.”

In a central plains academy, students sat in discussion, the topic being “Formations and Emotions.” One person stood up and read aloud: “Formations have no good or evil; human hearts have light and shadow. A true formation master doesn’t control the power of heaven and earth, but understands why they act.”

In an eastern sea fishing village, a long line had formed in front of the Echo Pavilion. People successively placed their hands into the remaining water in clay urns, closing their eyes in contemplation. Some laughed, some cried, some were reluctant to leave for a long time.

They are beginning to remember. Mo Ye’s voice carried a hint of weary tenderness. This is not victory, but a beginning. Like the first leaf of spring, not yet enough to cover the sky, but it proves that winter will eventually pass.

Bailu looked up, letting snowflakes fall on her face, melting into cold streaks of water.

“Do you know about Liansheng?” she suddenly asked.

The Wheel of Destiny paused.

…I know. Ten years ago, when the pseudo-Wheel of Destiny disintegrated, a wisp of black sand did not dissipate, quietly infiltrating Ximo. Three years ago, a “City of Forgetfulness” arose there. Its lord called himself “Mr. Lian” and used the art of pure water soul cleansing to take in all suffering people under heaven. All who entered the city forgot their past, bore smiles, as if reborn.

But the truth was: their memories and emotions were extracted, turning them into walking empty shells. And that pure water was refined from the “pain” of millions of people. Some went blind, some turned white-haired overnight, and many more died silently.

“He has built three hundred pure water pools, with over a hundred thousand followers,” Bailu gritted her teeth. “He says this is true liberation, that you are the obsessed one, trapped in the past and unwilling to let go.”

He is right. Mo Ye actually said, he was also wrong.

Bailu was stunned. Pain should not be erased, but neither should it be imposed. Liansheng wants to save the world, but he forgot that without the memory of pain, love will also disappear. When he returned a mother’s smile to someone, that person no longer recognized her face, because that attachment had already been cleansed away.

The projection changed again, showing the main hall in the center of the City of Forgetfulness: Liansheng sat on a high platform, his white robes like snow, a green lotus blooming between his brows. He looked younger than ten years ago, but his eyes were as hollow as a well.

He held a bowl of pure water, about to drink it. Suddenly, a little girl rushed forward and hugged his leg: “Daddy! Don’t drink it! You’ll forget me!”

Liansheng looked down, his expression subtly shifting, then gently pushed her away: “Be good. Drink it, and I won’t hurt anymore.”

The little girl cried uncontrollably, but was dragged away by guards. Liansheng, meanwhile, tilted his head and drank it all, a serene smile gracing his lips.

In an instant, the last trace of warmth in his eyes extinguished.

He is escaping. Mo Ye whispered, not for others, but for himself. He once watched his wife die in a formation chaos, and his son have his heart carved out for a formation sacrifice by an enemy. He thought he was saving all beings, but in reality, he just didn’t want to remember those scenes anymore.

Bailu clenched her fists: “I will destroy his city.”

No. If you forcibly break the formation, it will only provoke greater resistance. Those people were not deluded; they willingly chose to forget. What you would shatter is not an evil formation, but their last refuge.

“Then what should we do? Let him continue?”

The Wheel of Destiny was silent for a moment, then its light suddenly shifted, and a huai leaf appeared from thin air, passing through the bronze gate and falling into Bailu’s palm.

Take it, and go see him. Don’t take a sword, don’t take formation talismans, only one sentence.

“What sentence?”

Tell him: I am still in pain, therefore I am still alive. If you truly wish to liberate people, let them choose consciously whether to forget everything or to carry their scars and continue forward.

Bailu stared at the huai leaf, her fingertips trembling slightly: “What if he doesn’t listen?”

Then wait. Wait until a child cries “Daddy, don’t go” in front of him, until a mother holds her memory-lost son and murmurs “Why don’t you recognize me anymore”… Humanity will always awaken, even if a little slower.

The wind and snow gradually subsided, and a sliver of dawn appeared on the horizon.

Bailu carefully hid the huai leaf close to her body, then turned and left. Her footsteps crunched the accumulating snow, leaving a line of deep footprints leading into the distance.

Behind her, the bronze gate quietly opened a narrow crack, as if a farewell gesture.

Three months later, outside the City of Forgetfulness.

Bailu stood alone in the wilderness, clad in coarse cloth and hemp, carrying a rusty sword on her back. Beside her were only a solitary lamp and a tattered book. She no longer wore a formation robe nor displayed her cultivation, appearing like an ordinary wanderer.

News quickly spread into the city. On the morning of the third day, the city gates opened, and a team of white-robed envoys emerged, led by Liansheng.

After ten years, his face was still handsome, but he didn’t look like a real person; rather, like a meticulously drawn portrait—perfect, yet lifeless.

“What have you come for?” he asked, his voice calm and unruffled.

Bailu did not answer, but simply took out the lamp and lit it.

The lamplight flickered, illuminating the small characters carved on the inside of the lamp wall: “Shili Village, Bloody Rain Night.”

Liansheng’s pupils constricted slightly. That was the name of his hometown, and the beginning of his lifelong nightmare.

“Do you still remember that day?” Bailu asked softly. “You hid under the stove, seeing your mother shield you from a blade, her intestines spilling onto the ground. Her last words were ‘Run fast, don’t look back.’ But you looked back, you saw her eyes, which even now cannot close.”

Liansheng’s face changed dramatically: “Stop!”

“You later learned formations to seek revenge. When you killed all your enemies, you found that they also had wives and children. Did you hesitate? No. You said they were evil, they deserved to die. But when their children knelt, begging you to spare their father, did you hear your own heartbeat?”

“Stop!!” Liansheng roared, spirit energy surging around him, the water in the pure water pools instantly boiling.

Bailu remained still: “Later you founded this city, saying you wanted to end suffering. But have you ever thought that when your mother died for you, that pain was also a part of love? You erased the pain, and you also erased the evidence of her existence.”

Liansheng trembled all over, the green lotus on his forehead flickering violently.

“I don’t need to remember!” he shrieked. “I don’t need pain! I can create a world without tears!”

“But in that world, there are no smiles either.” Bailu looked at him, tears in her eyes. “Because you forgot who stayed up all night when you had a fever; who mended your torn clothes, stitches crooked but dense; who called your name before their death… These are not things that pure water can give back to you. They can only come from memory, from pain.”

She slowly unfolded the tattered book in her hand, a copy of the wordless book. The pages turned, revealing lines of text:

“My seven-year-old son died of illness. The formation contract backfired. I knew the cost, but still wished to try.”
“My husband died in battle. I set up a soul-preserving formation to extend his life for seven days, just to hear him finish the words ‘Go home’.”
“My father was gravely ill. I stole formation scriptures to save him. Though I fell into the demonic path, I have no regrets.”

Each sentence was a last wish left by a former “formation transgressor.”

Liansheng stumbled back, as if struck by an invisible hand.

“These people… none of them sought eternal life,” Bailu whispered. “They only sought a moment of togetherness. They knew it would hurt, but they chose love.”

In the distance, a pure water pool suddenly exploded, water splashing everywhere. A woman who had just drunk the pure water suddenly clutched her head, screaming: “I remember! I remember! My daughter didn’t die of illness… I sacrificed her to extend my life!!”

She collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

Immediately after, the second, then third pure water pools successively burst. More and more people began to scratch their heads, shouting loudly, crying, laughing wildly, fainting… Sealed memories surged back like a tide.

Liansheng stood unsteadily, dropping to one knee, his hands digging into the soil.

“Why… why awaken them?” he murmured. “They could have been happy…”

“They could have cried.” Bailu walked to him, squatted down, and looked directly into his eyes. “And they could have laughed. This is what it means to be human.”

Liansheng looked up, showing a vulnerable expression for the first time: “But I… I’ve forgotten how to cry.”

Bailu reached out and gently touched his cheek.

“Then start learning now.”

A year later, the City of Forgetfulness was renamed “Awakened City.” The pure water pools were filled in and rebuilt into Echo Pavilions. In each of the three hundred pavilions, a bronze mirror was placed, with a sentence engraved on its back:

“Only by seeing oneself can one see others.”

Liansheng shaved his head and became a monk, living in the simplest hut in the city. Every day he swept the streets and listened to the confessions of visitors. He no longer cast spells or gave teachings, but simply listened quietly, occasionally nodding, or shedding tears.

Some said he had gone mad, others said he had finally awakened.

One night, he was drawing water from a well. Moonlight shone on the water, reflecting an aged face—a face he had never seen before. Wrinkles crisscrossed, eye sockets were deep-set, yet his eyes were clear.

He froze, and after a long while, finally raised his hand to touch his reflection in the water. At that moment, a tear fell, shattering the moon’s image.

Meanwhile, deep beneath Beiyuan, the Wheel of Destiny flickered with a faint light, as if a sigh had passed through.

Twenty years later, spring.

The Seven Provinces were now dotted with Echo Pavilions, Mark-Minded Institutes, and Empathy Altars. Formations were no longer the privilege of a few, but knowledge accessible to all. Schools taught “Formation Principles and Human Hearts,” and exams did not test talismans, but merely asked:

“Why do you form a formation?”

That year, a tsunami erupted in the East Sea, giant waves towering, threatening to engulf dozens of villages. The people fled in panic, only to see a group of young formation cultivators go against the current, setting up a series of formations along the coastline.

They were not masters, at most Tongmai Realm cultivators. Their formation speed was slow, and their spirit energy depleted quickly. One person fell, another immediately took their place. Blood stained the beach, yet the chanting of spells never ceased.

Finally, the grand formation was completed, the giant waves were diverted three li away, and the villages were saved.

Afterward, it was tallied that seventeen formation cultivators were severely injured, and three had died.

Someone asked a survivor: “Was it worth it? You didn’t even know those villagers.”

The young man lay on his sickbed, smiling weakly: “My mother told me that the meaning of a formation lies not in its duration, but in whether one can face their conscience.”

News reached Beiyuan, and the Wheel of Destiny slowly turned, scattering a ray of golden light that enveloped that sea area. Fishermen said that for those few days, huai leaves often floated on the sea. When they landed on the pillows of the injured, their pain would subside.

A hundred years later, autumn.

A white-haired old woman, leaning on a cane, climbed to the top of the Echo Tower. She was the last surviving Mark-Minded One who had participated in the Formation of Collective Wisdom. She opened the already yellowed “Nine Pivots True Interpretation,” and on the last page, she wrote a new annotation:

“Mo Ye neither became an immortal nor ascended. He sacrificed eternal life to gain the multitude of lives. The path of formations is not about changing destiny, but about embracing destiny. Embracing the destiny of others, embracing the destiny of an era, embracing the destiny of pain. Henceforth, the first precept of formation cultivation: never promise eternal life; the second precept: always ask ‘Why do you form a formation?’; the third precept: rather fail a formation than betray one’s heart.”

After writing, she closed the book with a sigh and leaped from the high tower.

The wind whistled past her ears, and she seemed to hear a familiar whisper:

“Here.”

A thousand years later, the world was clear and bright.

Formations integrated into daily life, like cooking smoke, like plowing, like poems recited by children. The Nine Stars of Beidou shone constantly, and the two hidden stars, Fubi, would appear every full moon night, with the star Tian Shu being especially brilliant.

Legend has it that whenever a major decision arose in the human world, a faint breath would be heard deep beneath Beiyuan, like a guardian murmuring in a dream.

And that first huai leaf, having endured the passage of time, was nowhere to be found.

Some said it transformed into the spring breeze, some said it sank to the bottom of the sea to become coral, and others said that every Qingming Festival, it would appear outside a child’s window, bearing new sentences:

“When you decide to light a lamp, first confirm if there is already light waiting in the darkness.”
“Formations will not answer all questions, but they will allow you to see yourself asking them.”
“I am not a savior; I just don’t want to see you cry alone.”

No one knew where these words came from.

But everyone who read them would, at some point, suddenly stop, look up at the starry sky, and softly say:

“I understand.”

Then they would turn and walk into the crowd, reaching out to help a fallen elder, wiping away tears from a crying child, or on a stormy night, leaving an unextinguished lamp for a stranger.

The true path of formations has never been in the heavens, but in the human world. In every hesitant choice, in every tear shed for others, in the moment of knowing it will hurt, yet still being willing to reach out.

Deep within Beiyuan, the Wheel of Destiny revolved ceaselessly, silver and gold intertwined, silent. Only that humanoid light figure remained seated within, as if sleeping, yet always awake.

If anyone could listen intently in profound stillness, they might hear an extremely faint response, transcending time and space, falling upon their ear:

“I am still here.”