His steps led him closer to the city center, toward the Ancestral Hall that stood majestically beside the Silver Tree. In front of the hall's doors, he saw Wu Ren and Wu Hao busy unloading jugs of wine.

  "Careful, Hao! If these jugs break, the Twelfth Elder Wu will skin us alive!" Wu Ren shouted while laughing.

  Zhi Xuan stood behind the shadow of a stone pillar, watching them. 'Twelfth Wu?' He smiled faintly. It seemed the name of Grandpa Wu had been passed down as an honorary title for the clan leader.

  Suddenly, Tang Chao, the little boy who had earlier dreamed of a man with sapphire eyes, ran fast and accidentally bumped into Zhi Xuan’s leg. The boy fell backward, but before his bottom could touch the ground, a gentle force caught him.

  Zhi Xuan knelt on one knee, looking at the boy. His sapphire eyes met Tang Chao's large, brown eyes, which were filled with curiosity. "You should be more careful when running, little one," Zhi Xuan said softly.

  Tang Chao froze. He stared into Zhi Xuan’s clear eyes, then looked at the long, untied dark purple hair—there were differences, yet those sapphire eyes remained the same. The boy blinked, his mouth slightly open.

  "U-uncle..." Tang Chao whispered. "Your eyes... they are like the gems in the river."

  Zhi Xuan was stunned for a moment. The boy's innocent words pierced his soul deeper than any sword strike he had ever received. He saw a reflection of his former self in Tang Chao’s eyes—a child growing up with tales of stars and a fear of the wild world outside.

  "Uncle, are you hungry?" Tang Chao asked again, his fear now gone, replaced by the timeless hospitality characteristic of Star Village residents. He held out a piece of fruit candy that was already a bit sticky in his hand. "Grandpa says on Ancestors' Day, no stomach should rumble with hunger."

  Zhi Xuan accepted the candy with a stiff motion. "Thank you, little one. What is your name?"

  "Tang Chao! I will become the strongest practitioner, just like Ancestor Tang!" he exclaimed, puffing out his small chest.

  Zhi Xuan wore a faint, sincere smile—a sight that, if seen by his enemies in Yao Gu, would have made them tremble in disbelief. "A good name. Tang... he would be proud of you."

  Zhi Xuan stood back up, his robes sweeping the dust of the street, which now felt sacred to him. He placed his palm on Tang Chao’s head for a moment, flowing a tiny drop of pure life energy that would strengthen the boy's meridians without triggering a noticeable essence surge.

  "Chao! Where are you?!" Tang Zhen shouted from a distance, running closer with an anxious face.

  However, when he saw his younger brother standing in front of a tall man in black-and-white robes, his pace slowed. He felt a strange pressure—not an oppressive one, but an authority that made his heart want to bow for no clear reason.

  "Forgive my brother, Traveler," Tang Zhen said while bowing deeply, pulling his brother behind his back. "He is indeed a bit lacking in manners."

  Zhi Xuan looked at Tang Zhen, seeing echoes of Bashan’s firmness in the youth's face. "There is no need to apologize. He simply has a great spirit."

  Zhi Xuan then walked past them, toward the Ancestral Hall whose doors were now wide open, emitting a thick aroma of sandalwood incense. He stared straight ahead, ignoring the crowd of hundreds who only dared to look at the ancestral hall from the outside, as only the elders were permitted to enter.

  Zhi Xuan’s pace was not hurried, yet every footstep seemed to merge with the rhythm of the earth's meridians beneath Star City. The guardian practitioners standing at the threshold of the Ancestral Hall, who usually possessed alertness as sharp as swords, suddenly felt their vision blur for a moment. The figure in black-and-white robes passed between them like a night breeze carrying the scent of ancient pine, without triggering a single warning seal embedded in the jade floor.

  Inside the hall, silence reigned. Only the faint crackle of whale-fat candles burning their wicks illuminated thousands of wooden name tablets neatly arranged in tiered rows. At the center of the room hung a massive painting—a silhouette of a man with flowing hair and black robes embroidered with red, standing with his back to the observer while gazing at the moon.

  Zhi Xuan stopped directly in front of the main altar. His eyes swept over the name tablets in the front row, where the founding ancestors rested in the eternity of sandalwood.

  “Ancestor Wu Quezi...” he murmured upon seeing Grandpa Wu’s name tablet. Beside it, he found names that made his chest tighten: “Ancestor Chen”, “Ancestor Lian”, “Ancestor Tang”, “Ancestor Bashan”, “Ancestor Mingling”, “Ancestor Zhuwei”, “Ancestor Shi”, “Ancestor He”.

  Zhi Xuan stood frozen, as if time had stopped ticking inside that silent hall. He reached out a trembling hand, his slender fingers touching the surface of Mingling’s wooden tablet. The wood was cold, yet beneath his Divine Sense, he could feel the remnants of prayers spanning hundreds of years—a resonance of affection that had never faded.

  "Mingling... you truly became an 'Ancestor' now," he whispered hoarsely. A small, bitter laugh escaped his lips as he remembered how Mingling used to whine about wanting to win over a girl named Lin and vowed to become the village's greatest protector. It seemed his friend had kept his promise until his final breath.

  Zhi Xuan then walked toward a small stone chest located beneath his silhouette painting. His Divine Sense caught something familiar inside it—an aura that was very faint yet pure. With a wave of his hand, the chest lid slid open soundlessly.

  Inside lay a notebook with a yellowed and fragile cover, and a cracked jade hair tie. Zhi Xuan reached for the book—it was He Xin’s notebook. On the last pages added after his departure, there were various handwriting styles, apparently written by his friends before they passed away.

  “Zhi Xuan, the wild boars here are getting fewer, but we built this city so you won't have trouble finding them when you come home. – Tang.”

  “The trail I made is now a trade highway. I hope you don't get lost when you return. – He Xin.”

  “I looked after Aunt Lian and Grandma Mu until the end. You are our pride, our Protecting Foundation. – Mingling.”

  A drop of clear mental dew nearly fell from the corner of Zhi Xuan’s sapphire eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. A Weaver practitioner must not be swayed by mortal emotions, yet in this place, the laws of his enlightenment seemed to bow to an uncertain longing and suffocation.

  Zhi Xuan closed the notebook with an extremely slow motion, as if fearing that if he moved too fast, the memories poured within would crumble into the dust of history. He placed the book back into the stone chest, but his hand stopped as his fingers touched a cracked wooden staff—the staff he once used to herd livestock with Mingling.

  "Even this you kept well, Mingling," he murmured, his voice vibrating like a lute string about to snap.

  Zhi Xuan closed his eyes, letting the silence of the hall penetrate the deepest corners of his heart. His Divine Sense caught the figure of an old man in white robes walking with tottering steps, along with young practitioners of Star Village blood.

  The old man in white was the Twelfth Elder Wu, the figure holding the highest authority in Star City today. He stepped inside with a slightly hunched back, but his eyes radiated the firmness of a leader who had weathered many seasons. Behind him, Wu Ren, Wu Hao, Chen Yi, and Ming Ye followed with heads bowed in solemnity, carrying trays of wine offerings and Heavenly Bell flowers.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  The Twelfth Elder Wu stopped in the middle of the room. He did not immediately lead the prayer; instead, he stared at the altar with a furrowed brow. As a practitioner who had reached the peak of the Consciousness Transformation realm, he possessed a mental sensitivity far beyond that of the city's ordinary practitioners. He felt the air inside the hall was no longer stuffy with incense smoke, but felt incredibly pure, as if every speck of dust in the room had been sanctified by the presence of a grand entity.

  "Elder, is something wrong?" Chen Yi whispered, noticing the change in the clan leader's expression.

  Elder Wu did not answer. His eyes, beginning to turn white with age, swept over every corner of the dimly lit room. He felt an existence standing near the ancestors' stone chest—a shadow more real than the darkness itself, yet invisible to mortal eyes.

  Zhi Xuan remained standing still, just a few steps away from the old man. He saw the facial lines of the Twelfth Wu, which were very similar to Grandpa Wu’s in his old age. A primal affection welled up in Zhi Xuan’s heart, causing him to unconsciously soften his mental defenses, allowing a tiny speck of his Weaver aura to seep out like silver dew falling into a calm pond.

  Instantly, every candle in the Ancestral Hall flickered violently. Their originally yellow flames turned into a brilliant sapphire blue, illuminating the entire room with a soothing light.

  "This... what kind of omen is this?!" Wu Hao cried out, nearly dropping the wine jug in his hand.

  The Twelfth Elder Wu trembled. His aged knees felt weak, not from fear, but from the vibration of the blood pulsing hard in his heart. He saw the silhouette painting of the Sapphire Ancestor on the wall behind the altar as if it were breathing. The sapphire blue light from the candles gave the painting dimension, making it look as if the figure in the picture would turn around and step out.

  "The blood... this blood is calling," Elder Wu murmured with a trembling voice. He immediately prostrated until his forehead touched the cold jade floor. "All descendants of Star Village, prostrate! The Guardian... He has shown His blessing!"

  Seeing their leader prostrate, Wu Ren, Ming Ye, and all the young practitioners there immediately threw themselves to the floor in full obedience and wonder. The sound of foreheads hitting the floor echoed in unison, creating a silence laden with devotion.

  Zhi Xuan looked at them all from the height of his enlightenment. He felt alienated, yet deeply bound. He wanted to greet them, to touch their shoulders and say he was proud of what they had built. However, he knew that his presence as a Weaver Transformation expert in this mortal world would disrupt the balance of their destiny.

  Yet Zhi Xuan was ultimately overcome by the unbearable feeling of home, his soul forged by blood and the persistence of a cruel world. Now, as if momentarily unguarded amidst all the resurfacing past, he slowly flicked his hand, revealing his tall figure looming over every person there. He did not turn around, still staring at each memorial tablet.

  Zhi Xuan’s broad and sturdy back was now clearly visible before them. His black-and-white robes no longer swayed in the wind but fell with a majesty that constricted the chest. The Twelfth Elder Wu looked up trembling, tears streaming past the wrinkles on his aged cheeks.

  He saw the figure—no longer as a dead painting, but as the manifestation of an Immortal's maturity. Zhi Xuan’s long dark purple hair flowed down, his black-and-white robes visible. It was different, different from the painting. But what was suffocating was when that head turned, pivoting fully to reveal sapphire eyes that had no equal in the entire Continent.

  The air in the Ancestral Hall seemed to freeze, not from a deadly cold, but from a majesty so pure that the heartbeat of every practitioner there seemed to slow. The Twelfth Elder Wu gaped, his mouth trembling without being able to utter a single word. He saw that face—a face more beautiful and firm than any jade carving, with a pair of sapphire eyes radiating the depths of the ocean and the vastness of the astral sky.

  Wu Ren was frozen; he was like a youth staring at a figure only mentioned in the scrolls of the ancestral hall—a figure who had no descendants in the Star Village, yet whose name was always mentioned as someone who left the village to protect it hundreds of years ago. He felt his eyes heat up at the sapphire glow and the indescribable majesty.

  "Ancestor Zhi," Wu Ren’s voice choked. The name he had only ever uttered in his meditations, curious about his appearance, was now standing before him. "The ancestor of Star Village... there really is an Immortal."

  "Immortal..." Wu Hao gaped like an innocent child, suddenly like a boy staring at a flying dragon in the clouds. "You... you are really real. This... my ancestor is an Immortal."

  Zhi Xuan stood with a calmness that transcended mortality. He looked at the young faces before him one by one, as if reading the still-damp pages of history. In his eyes, they were not just low-level practitioners, but sprouts from the same root he had once watered with drops of blood and sweat in this wheat land.

  "Rise," Zhi Xuan said. His voice did not boom like thunder, yet every syllable that came out seemed to resonate with the heartbeat of Star City. "No one knelt at my departure; this time I have not come to see my family's descendants kneeling before me."

  Hearing that voice, which resembled the echo of a heavenly harp, the Twelfth Elder Wu slowly straightened his back, though he maintained a kneeling position on one knee. The entire room was now enveloped in an aura so warm it erased all the fatigue and ailments afflicting their mortal bodies.

  "You... are Ancestor Zhi?" Elder Wu said, staring in disbelief. "Those eyes... the eyes always remembered by every Wu generation. Long ago when Ancestor Wu passed, he always warned that someday a sapphire-eyed figure would return. The Twelfth Wu has not betrayed Ancestor Wu! Ancestor Zhi has truly returned!"

  Zhi Xuan looked at the old man, his heart trembling to hear Grandpa Wu’s name mentioned with such devotion. He stepped forward, his steps making no sound on the jade floor, yet his presence seemed to fill every inch of the room. He stopped directly in front of the Twelfth Elder Wu, then with an unexpected gentle motion, he reached out his hand to help the old man stand.

  "You have guarded this city well, descendant of Wu," Zhi Xuan said, his voice softening, bringing a warmth that melted the tension in the air. "Grandpa Wu would be very proud to see a man like you leading this clan."

  Zhi Xuan’s touch on Elder Wu’s arm flowed a current of extremely pure spiritual energy. In an instant, the fatigue weighing down the man's old bones vanished, and his meridians, which had begun to narrow due to his nearly exhausted lifespan, suddenly opened wide. The Tree of Life that was almost withered was seen blooming again as if undergoing Reincarnation.

  The Twelfth Elder Wu's eyes widened. He felt his life essence, which had been fading like a lamp running out of oil, now flare up powerfully. The Tree of Life within his heart sprouted sturdy new branches, giving him an extension of longevity he had never imagined before.

  "Ancestor... this kindness is too grand for a humble servant," Elder Wu sobbed while clutching the hem of Zhi Xuan’s robe with trembling hands.

  Zhi Xuan shifted his gaze to the young practitioners still frozen in wonder. He saw Wu Ren, Wu Hao, and Ming Ye. In his eyes, he seemed to see ghosts of the past smiling behind their shoulders—the cheerful Mingling, the steadfast Bashan, and the gentle Lin.

  "Sprouts that are growing, yet have reached the Consciousness Transformation realm," Zhi Xuan said in a low and resonant tone, looking at the reflection of his face in the eyes of the three young practitioners. "Good talent."

  Zhi Xuan moved his fingers slowly in the air. Instantly, the abundant spiritual essence from the Silver Tree outside the hall seemed to be summoned, flowing in through the cracks of the windows in the form of beautiful silver light strands. The light split, entering the foreheads of Wu Ren, Wu Hao, and Ming Ye, granting them an understanding of the natural laws for the Five Element realm.

  "Five Element," Zhi Xuan said, withdrawing his hand. "The path has been opened for you. But whether you succeed or not, that lies in your hands."

  Wu Ren, Wu Hao, and Ming Ye felt a massive shock within their sea of consciousness. Information regarding natural laws that had previously seemed like a blurred riddle to practitioners in this remote continent was now clearly laid out like a star map woven with gold thread. They prostrated deeper, no longer because of the pressure of power, but because of a gratitude so overflowing it touched the depths of their souls.

  Zhi Xuan turned his body, facing the main altar again. His gaze was fixed on the silhouette painting of himself. He felt strange seeing how time had frozen his figure in the form of a legend so revered, while for him, the memories of carrying wheat and stealing meat from Uncle Chen felt like yesterday's events.

  He exhaled softly, reached for three incense sticks, and moved his hand. The incense burned, bringing an aroma of spring that was so clear and fragrant. Zhi Xuan bowed, placing the three incense sticks directly in front of the tiered memorial tablets. He remained like that for several breaths.

  The silence in the Ancestral Hall reached its peak as the Immortal’s back bowed before those memorial woods. For Zhi Xuan, this was not merely a ceremony; it was the surrender of a wanderer finally laying down the burden of thousands of years before the tombstones of his brothers.

  The smoke from the three incense sticks spiraled like silver dragons, soaring high and touching the hall's roof. Unlike ordinary incense that leaves gray ash, the incense lit by Zhi Xuan turned into grains of spring light that fell slowly, enveloping the name tablets of Mingling, Tang, and the others.

  "I have seen the world you told me about, Mingling," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice resonating deeply as if all the Star Village residents were before him. "That world is cruel, but this city you built... is the most beautiful part of it.”