Zhi Xuan stood like a statue atop the arched roofline, letting the clamor of the mortal world below wash away the lingering echoes of silence from the Nine-Level Pagoda that still haunted his mind.

  Below him, steam billowed from street-side stalls, and the laughter of drunkards mingled with the haggling of cloth merchants, creating a symphony of life that stood in stark contrast to the cold laws of reincarnation.

  "Brother, I'm hungry," Mei Hua murmured. Her small stomach let out a soft growl, reminding Zhi Xuan that although they had crossed divine dimensions, this little girl’s frame was still bound by simple worldly needs.

  Zhi Xuan offered a thin smile—an expression he rarely showed to the outside world. He leapt down as light as a feather, landing in a dark, narrow alley before stepping out into the bustling night market.

  His presence, marked by silver hair and robes radiating a cold aura, caused the mortal crowd to part instinctively, like water avoiding hot oil.

  He stopped in front of a mooncake stall where the aroma filled the air. "Give me two boxes of the sweetest cakes," Zhi Xuan said, placing a silver coin onto the oily wooden table.

  The merchant trembled as he looked at Zhi Xuan’s foreign face. His wrinkled hands quickly wrapped the cakes, not daring to meet the sapphire eyes that seemed capable of piercing through one's fate.

  "Keep it," Zhi Xuan said, tossing a gold coin onto the merchant's table.

  The merchant grabbed the gold coin swiftly, not questioning why a gold coin was being used to buy boxes that should only cost silver pieces. "Is the Lord not from Yao Gu?"

  Zhi Xuan did not answer immediately. He accepted the still-warm package of cakes, feeling the soft texture beneath the wrapping paper. He broke off a small piece and fed it to Mei Hua, who was waiting with sparkling eyes.

  Mei Hua chewed the mooncake hungrily, her plump cheeks moving up and down—a sight capable of melting the ice within Zhi Xuan’s heart. "So sweet, Brother! Is there cake like this in the heavens too?"

  "In the heavens, there is only loneliness wrapped in light, Mei," Zhi Xuan whispered. His eyes gazed into the distance, piercing through the city roofs toward the peak of Mount Yao Gu shrouded in eternal mist.

  "I am merely a wanderer from Xing Luo," Zhi Xuan replied flatly. When he turned his gaze back to the merchant, his voice sounded like the fine ring of metal.

  The merchant was stunned, his trembling hand still clutching the gold coin. "Xing Luo... the distant Land of Falling Stars? No wonder the Lord carries a different air. Then, welcome to Yao Gu."

  The merchant flashed a warm, calming smile, tucking the gold coin into his storage bag before looking back at Zhi Xuan. "The Lord comes at the perfect time. Tonight is rumored to be a beautiful night at the Flower Dew Bridge. It is said the Holy Fairy Ye has descended from the heavens and will be plucking her guqin there."

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes, momentarily silent upon hearing the name mentioned by the merchant. "Holy Fairy Ye?" he whispered softly. "Who is that?"

  "She is the miracle of Yao Gu," the merchant replied with a tone of pure adoration, as if merely mentioning her name was a blessing. "It is said that the plucking of her guqin can make withered flowers bloom again and calm even the wildest storms."

  Zhi Xuan paused. "Calm even the wildest storms," he murmured. In his mind, he remembered the turbulence of the Ancient Heaven blood and the Devil Seed still snarling within his meridians.

  If there was something capable of calming these chaotic ripples of energy before he faced the Night Rain Bell, then the music of a music-Dao master might not be a bad idea.

  "Where is this Flower Dew Bridge?" Zhi Xuan asked without turning, while wiping a stray crumb from the corner of Mei Hua’s lip.

  "Just head straight east, My Lord. Follow the silver river that bisects the city. There, where the peach trees begin to shed their petals, is the place," the merchant answered enthusiastically.

  Zhi Xuan gave a short nod and resumed his pace. He slipped through the crowd, walking calmly, yet every step seemed to float an inch above the ground. Mei Hua, now full, began to hum a small tune following the rhythm of her brother's steady heartbeat.

  Zhi Xuan walked along the riverbank, where the clear water reflected the light of colorful lanterns. The fragrance of peach blossoms thickened, filling his senses and bringing a peace foreign to a soul accustomed to the scent of rusted blood.

  In the distance, an arched bridge made of white marble glowed under the moonlight, surrounded by thousands of petals falling slowly onto the water's surface. Around it, townspeople and even cultivators had gathered, abandoning their practice to hear the strings of the Holy Fairy.

  The atmosphere around the Flower Dew Bridge grew quieter as Zhi Xuan drew nearer. Cultivators who usually possessed sharp, oppressive presences now seemed to hold their breath, hiding their energy fluctuations out of respect for the night’s sanctity.

  Zhi Xuan stopped in the shadows of an old peach tree whose branches hung low over the water. From this position, he could see a woman dressed in green—a color so beautiful it looked like leaves falling upon water—sitting cross-legged in the center of the bridge.

  Before her, a black sandalwood guqin sat elegantly, radiating a silvery glow synchronized with the moonlight. Her face was half-covered by a veil, revealing only sorrowful eyes that seemed to carry the grief of all living things. An exquisite bun adorned her hair like a floral ornament on a rainy night.

  Zhi Xuan could tell at a glance that the woman called Holy Fairy Ye was a Soul Transformation stage cultivator, yet her aura was profoundly melancholy, as if carrying a burden she could not release.

  Her slender fingers began to dance across the guqin strings, creating vibrations that rippled gently across the silver river. The first chime heard was no ordinary note; it was the whisper of wind passing through a silent valley, a frequency that instantly silenced the ripples of water and the rustle of leaves.

  TING—

  Zhi Xuan felt his chest pulse. The Heavenly Samsara Wheel, which usually spun with an aggressive rhythm, suddenly slowed. The Four Seasonal Laws he had sealed within his soul core seemed to listen to the song, bowing before a harmony so pure.

  "This music..." Zhi Xuan thought, his sapphire eyes unblinking as he watched the silhouette on the bridge.

  Holy Fairy Ye continued to play, her notes deepening and carrying an overflowing weight of emotion. She was not playing music to show off power, but was weaving her wounds into a symphony. Every pluck of the string contained a Law that felt soothing—a warmth and sadness transmitted through soul vibrations.

  The peach petals falling around the bridge seemed to stop in mid-air, held by the nets of notes filling the space. The cultivators surrounding the bridge began to close their eyes, their faces—once full of ambition—now softening, drowning in the brief enlightenment granted by the melody.

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  Zhi Xuan felt the Devil Seed within him growl softly, trying to reject the invasion of peace brought by the strings. However, on the other side, his Ancient Heaven blood rippled warmly, as if finding a frequency in harmony with the sadness radiating from Holy Fairy Ye.

  Zhi Xuan sat down beneath the tree, seating Mei Hua beside him. He waved his hand and a jar of wine appeared. He took a long draft, feeling a familiar sensation, as if he were returning to a time when his hands were untouched by blood, before he had stepped onto this cruel path.

  The chime of the guqin strings rose higher, yet instead of piercing the ears, it seeped into the pores and washed the meridians like spring rain cleaning dust from black rocks. Zhi Xuan leaned his back against the rough bark of the peach tree, letting the wine burning his throat clash with the melody cooling his spirit.

  Inside his chest, the storms that usually raged began to subside. The image of the old man in winter, the roar of the Ancient Heavens, and the hollow gaze of the Emperor's Silhouette at the river of time—everything seemed to drift away, blocked by the curtain of sound woven by Holy Fairy Ye.

  Zhi Xuan closed his eyes for a moment. In the darkness of his spirit, he no longer saw himself as a slaughtering Demon or of the Ancient Heaven race. He saw a boy in the Village of Stars, running through the meadow without the burden of the Nine Heaven Bead in his chest. Yet, every time the note touched the most wounded part of his soul, Zhi Xuan felt the same pulse of sorrow radiating from the bridge.

  "This feeling," Zhi Xuan whispered in his heart. His eyelids opened slowly, staring sharply at the figure in the green robe. "So comfortable and calm."

  Holy Fairy Ye looked up slightly, her fingers performing a swift circular motion on the final string, creating a low, roaring sound resembling the cry of a lonely phoenix. At that moment, a spiritual ripple radiated from the guqin, sweeping the river surface and touching the branch of the tree where Zhi Xuan leaned.

  Instantly, Holy Fairy Ye's previously somber gaze shifted. Through the gaps in the crowd and the thicket of floating petals, her sorrowful eyes met Zhi Xuan’s sapphire eyes, which were like dead stars. Time seemed to freeze. Holy Fairy Ye felt a tremor in her Dao Heart.

  Beneath that peach tree, she did not see a cultivator hungry for the enlightenment of her music, but rather a deep abyss of emptiness, wrapped in an aura of death and a distorted ancient majesty. The guqin chime went slightly out of tune—just for a second—before she regained control of her play.

  Holy Fairy Ye slightly vibrated her fingertips, trying to mend the gap in notes that had faltered due to the momentary internal collision. However, although the melody flowed again, the harmony she built was now tainted by a burning curiosity.

  She had never felt an aura like that—an existence that seemed to stand at the threshold of reincarnation, turning its back on the light yet radiating a majesty that made the natural laws around it bow and succumb.

  The guqin song slowed further, shifting from a calmed storm to a river flowing toward absolute silence. Holy Fairy Ye ended the last string with a soft pluck that left a long hum in the air—a note that seemed to refuse to die even though her fingers were still.

  Silence. Hundreds of pairs of eyes along the silver riverbank seemed to lose the ability to breathe. They remained transfixed by the remains of the melodic vibration, letting their souls slowly return from a distant internal wandering. Yet, unlike the others, Zhi Xuan remained awake. He raised his wine jar, swallowed the remaining burning liquid, and stared straight at the marble bridge.

  Holy Fairy Ye stood gracefully, her green robe sweeping the bridge surface like sacred moss stroking jade. Ignoring the adoration of the crowd, she stepped down, floating above the water's surface with a movement so light it did not create even a single ripple.

  Holy Fairy Ye moved like dew blown by the dawn wind, crossing the silver river with a grace that transcended worldly bounds. The cultivators watching from afar immediately made way, bowing their heads as if a goddess had just descended from her throne. However, the Holy Fairy's steps were directed toward only one point: an old peach tree where a silver-haired youth sat shadowed by darkness.

  Zhi Xuan remained motionless. He let Mei Hua lean her head against his thigh, while his hand still gripped the wine jar that now only held a sharp aroma. When the tip of Holy Fairy Ye's silk shoe touched the grass before him, the cold brought by the woman immediately clashed with the deathly aura enveloping Zhi Xuan's frame.

  "This Senior has a very cold Dao Heart," Holy Fairy Ye's voice sounded like the whisper of flowing water, clear yet containing a resonance that shook the soul. "My guqin strings have never been out of tune, until meeting Senior tonight."

  Zhi Xuan raised his head slowly, letting the sapphire glow in his eyes meet the Holy Fairy's sorrowful gaze directly. "The Holy Fairy praises me too much; I am just an ordinary person from afar."

  Holy Fairy Ye did not reply immediately. She stared intently at Zhi Xuan's silver hair shimmering under the moonlight, then shifted to Mei Hua, who was now looking at her with innocent curiosity.

  Even though her cultivation was above Zhi Xuan's, Holy Fairy Ye felt a vibration that made her feel as though Zhi Xuan possessed a depth she had never seen—as if she were merely a falling leaf before a devil walking among white swans.

  "This Senior," Holy Fairy Ye murmured. She remained silent as her sorrowful eyes locked with the eyes of the man before her, as if even the flowers falling at the head of the river flowed peacefully along with that gaze.

  But Zhi Xuan gave Holy Fairy Ye no chance to continue. He rose and waved his hand; the wine jar immediately disappeared. He turned around without a word, leaving the shadow of the ancient peach tree as the strands of light departed.

  Zhi Xuan's calm footsteps left tracks of frozen dew on the grass, a contradiction amidst the warmth of a Yao Gu spring night.

  His sturdy back, with Mei Hua once again nestled safely in his arms, slowly distanced itself from the glow of the Flower Dew Bridge.

  Holy Fairy Ye remained frozen under the shelter of the peach tree. Falling petals landed on her shoulders, but her sorrowful eyes did not for a second leave the silver silhouette fading into the darkness of the city alleys. She felt her fingertips still vibrating softly—not from fatigue, but because of the echo of that man's Dao Heart that had just brushed against her melody.

  "So cold and unimaginable..." she whispered softly, her voice swallowed by the sigh of the wind. "Who is he, truly? His Dao Heart... why is it so silent and full of solitude?"

  On the other side, Zhi Xuan kept walking without looking back. He could feel the Holy Fairy's gaze still piercing his back, but he intentionally hardened his internal walls. The peace he had gained from the music was a dull sword he had sharpened again; he didn't need comfort—he needed balance to face the Night Rain Bell that would arrive in two suns.

  "Brother, that Fairy was so beautiful," Mei Hua's voice broke the silence, her tiny fingers twining around the edge of Zhi Xuan's robe. "Her eyes were like a lake in the middle of a forest I once saw."

  Zhi Xuan exhaled, a cold mist escaping his lips. "Beauty is an illusion on the path of cultivation, Mei. A calm lake often hides a vortex capable of swallowing you to the deepest darkness."

  Mei Hua only nodded vaguely, though she didn't fully understand. To her, this world was merely a sequence of colors and sounds, while to her brother, every color was a threat and every sound was a test.

  Zhi Xuan brought Mei Hua back to the Soul Refinement Pavilion as the moon began to tilt toward the western horizon. In front of the pavilion gate, he crossed paths with Ye Ming, who had just emerged from his meditation. The mysterious man stared at Zhi Xuan with a furrowed brow; his sharp spiritual senses caught a change in the rhythm of his comrade's breath.

  "You bring the scent of peach blossoms and a strange melody on your robe, Zhi Xuan," Ye Ming said with his heavy voice. "Did you find something in that mortal city?"

  Zhi Xuan laid Mei Hua, who had fallen asleep again, onto the jade bed inside the pavilion before answering. "Only a reminder that peace can be found in even the noisiest of places. What about you?"

  Ye Ming sighed, sitting cross-legged in the doorway while staring at the night sky. "I have recovered. The Night Rain Bell will strike us not with physical weight, but with the heaviness of karma. I worry Ling Huo will not be able to withstand it if she continues to let her fire blaze without control."

  Zhi Xuan turned toward the corner of the room where Ling Huo was still immersed in deep meditation; her face appeared flushed, and beads of sweat as large as corn kernels continued to pour from her forehead. "Let her be. A fire that does not burn itself will never be able to melt steel. We all have our own ways of facing that bronze executioner."

  The next two days passed in a deathly silence. The Soul Refinement Pavilion seemed isolated from the outside world; only the hum of formations and the circulation of energy were heard. Zhi Xuan spent his time refining the remaining turbulence from the Ancient Heaven blood.

  Every time that heat tried to rebel, he would remember the chime of Holy Fairy Ye's guqin, using that melancholy harmony to lull the ferocity within his veins.

  The dawn of the third day broke with a copper-red color cleaving the mist of Mount Yao Gu. The sky seemed to be on fire, reflecting the tension that had reached a boiling point throughout the plains.

  When the sun began to rise as high as a pole, the toll of a great bell from afar—not the trial bell, but a summoning bell—echoed seven times, calling the remaining dragons and phoenixes to fulfill their promise of destiny.

  Zhi Xuan opened his eyes. The sapphire glow was no longer overflowing, but had condensed into a very sharp point of light at the center of his pupils. All his deathly aura and demonic darkness had been pulled into his shoulder blades, hidden behind the calm he had borrowed from the melody of the Flower Dew Bridge.