The incense smoke continued to swirl, creating an aroma so calming it washed away every mental anxiety of the practitioners present. Zhi Xuan straightened his body, turned slowly, and looked at the Twelfth Elder Wu, who remained frozen in awe.

  "Elder," Zhi Xuan called softly. "Where are their graves? I wish to see the place where they rest, far from the bustle of this altar."

  Elder Wu immediately bowed respectfully, his now-energized hand gesturing toward the side door of the hall leading to a hidden back garden. "This servant will escort you, Ancestor. They... according to the last wishes of Ancestor Wu and Ancestor Mingling, were buried on the slope facing the sunrise, under the shade of the furthest roots of the Silver Tree."

  Zhi Xuan walked slowly, followed by the elders and young practitioners at a respectful distance. They exited the hall, passing through a corridor adorned with star-flowers blooming under the moonlight. There, on a small, quiet hill isolated from the market crowds, lay a row of simple stone headstones. There was no jade magnificence or gold carvings; only sturdy mountain stone, overgrown with soft green moss and wild flowers.

  Zhi Xuan stopped in front of a headstone bearing the name "Mingling." Beside it, the headstones of "Tang," "Zhuwei," and "Bashan" stood side by side, as if they were still guarding one another even in eternity.

  He sat cross-legged on the ground among the graves. He no longer cared that his black-and-white robes touched the earth. His hand brushed the rough surface of Mingling’s headstone. Through his touch, Zhi Xuan could feel the warmth of the earth that had swallowed his friend's body.

  "You chose a good spot," Zhi Xuan murmured. "From here, you can see the whole city. You can hear the sounds of children playing and the aroma of the wheat bread you always loved."

  Elder Wu and the others stood at a distance, not daring to disturb the moment. They saw the Immortal, a figure capable of toppling mountains, now appearing so humble—like an older brother conversing with his siblings.

  Suddenly, the night wind blew harder, yet it brought no chill. The silver leaves of the giant tree above them jingled melodiously, dropping strands of light that enveloped the burial area. In that silence, Zhi Xuan seemed to hear Mingling’s low, mischievous laughter and Tang’s firm grunt as he sharpened his axe.

  He took out the wine jug given by Li Chen. He poured half of it onto the ground, right in front of the four friends' headstones. "This is the best wine, very fragrant. The taste... it's admittedly not as strong as the wine Uncle Chen used to make, but it's enough to warm the soul."

  Zhi Xuan let the clear liquid soak into the earth, merging with the roots that embraced the bones of his past. The sacred silence seemed to sanctify the air around the slope until not a single night insect dared to make a sound. He turned to look at the headstones of Aunt Lian, Uncle Chen, and Grandpa Wu.

  His slender hand touched Aunt Lian’s headstone, feeling the rough grooves forming the characters of her name. He remembered the red cloth embroidered with star-flowers still wrapped around his arm—a bond of affection that transcended death.

  "Aunt Lian," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice trembling with inner resonance. "The child you found under the banyan tree has seen the ends of the world. Yet, of all the places I have stepped, only here does this soul feel it is no longer wandering."

  He moved to the headstone of Uncle Chen, the man who had once given him his first spiritual pouch. Zhi Xuan poured the remaining wine from the jug over the grave, letting the sharp aroma of alcohol evaporate into the night air. He seemed to see the shadow of the burly man patting his shoulder, giving advice about the harshness of the practitioner world behind his rough laughter.

  Finally, he stood before the headstone of Grandpa Wu, or Ancestor Wu Quezi. This headstone was slightly taller, yet still without excessive decoration, reflecting the humility of the elder who had once sent him away for his own safety.

  "Grandpa," Zhi Xuan said, clasping his hands and bowing deeply. "The youth you worried about has now woven his own path. I am no longer a fallen leaf played with by the wind; I have become the storm that determines its own direction."

  He took out two wooden carvings of the two fairies, Zhu Qinglan and Ye Xishui. He returned to the front of Aunt Lian’s headstone, bowing slowly and placing the two wooden carvings at the side of the grave, like a man who had found his women and was now bringing them home to meet his mother. He adjusted his fluttering hair; the Heart-Nurturing Jade was gone, but the feeling remained eternal.

  “I know, you need that so you look neater. Later, the girls will surely be charmed by your appearance now.”

  Zhi Xuan smiled thinly, remembering those words as Aunt Lian handed him the Heart-Nurturing Jade. Now, here he stood again before the woman who was like a mother to him. He slowly dropped himself down, kneeling before Aunt Lian’s headstone, letting a single tear fall upon her grave.

  The tear fell silently, but to Zhi Xuan’s soul, the impact was louder than the ruins in Yao Gu. The tear of a Weaver Transformation practitioner contained pure essence; as it touched the grave soil, the wild flowers around Aunt Lian’s headstone suddenly bloomed with glowing petals, as if the earth itself reacted to the grief of its lost son.

  "Mother..." Zhi Xuan whispered, a call he had never dared to utter aloud while she was still breathing. "Your son has come home."

  In the distance, the Twelfth Elder Wu and the young practitioners bowed their heads in silence. Witnessing an Immortal prostrate and weep before a stone tablet was a sight that shattered the boundaries between gods and men. They realized that behind the majesty that oppressed the heavens lay a heart formed by wheat, honey, and mortal love.

  "I have become the Dao Protector of two Sacred Fairies," Zhi Xuan whispered, as if hoping Aunt Lian was smiling gently at him. He looked at the two wooden carvings before turning back to the headstone. "Not just 'girls' like you once said, Mother. They... they are the anchors that keep me remembering the meaning of home, just like you."

  Zhi Xuan remained prostrate for a long time, letting the silence of the night and the pulse of the earth on that slope wash away the remnants of coldness from his soul. To him, every gust of wind swaying the grass around the graves was a gentle caress from those who were gone. He no longer felt the pressure of responsibility as the ruler of the Six Paths, but only as a traveler who had finally found the pier to drop his anchor.

  After a long time passed in a suffocating yet sanctifying silence, Zhi Xuan slowly straightened his body. He wiped the trace of moisture from the corner of his eye with a calm motion, then stood with a majesty that was firm once again. His face no longer radiated sharp sadness, but a profound peace, as if the burden of thousands of years of wandering had shed and been absorbed into this ancestral soil.

  He turned, looking at the Twelfth Elder Wu and his group still faithfully waiting at the edge of the burial garden. "Let us return," Zhi Xuan said, his voice now clear and authoritative again, yet carrying a warmth that was no longer distant.

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  They walked down the small hill, returning to the heart of Star City. The city's bustle, which had previously felt like a disturbance, now sounded like the beautiful creak of life in Zhi Xuan’s ears. He saw the lanterns floating high in the sky, carrying the prayers and hopes of thousands of souls sheltered under his silver tree.

  "I am leaving," Zhi Xuan said, stopping just before entering the crowd, his robes fluttering gently. "Do not speak of me to anyone. Let peace continue to fill this place, just as it did before I came."

  Zhi Xuan moved his finger, and a Five Element Disc appeared in his hand like a formation eye. Silently, and like a whistling wind, the disc sped to the center of the city with fluctuations that no one below the Soul Transformation realm could sense. Instantly, Star City's formation was reinforced with the glow of the rotating disc, as if the formation would never stop but would instead constantly rotate and regenerate.

  The Twelfth Elder Wu was stunned as he felt the wave of energy that had just swept through the city. The foundation of the formation, which originally relied only on the massive spiritual energy of practitioners, now felt pulsing like a mighty giant's heart. He knew that with the Five Element Disc, Star City would no longer be easily shaken by natural storms or disturbances from rogue practitioners. This city had been given a shield equivalent to top-tier sects in the Central Continent.

  "Ancestor... this servant understands your will," Elder Wu replied with a trembling voice, bowing as low as possible until his back formed a straight line. "This secret will be locked within our souls and will only become a legend whispered among the core elders. The peace of Star City is our highest mandate."

  Zhi Xuan nodded slowly. He looked at Wu Ren, Wu Hao, and Ming Ye one last time. In their eyes, he saw the passion to go further, but he also saw the sincerity to keep guarding their roots.

  "Guard that tree," Zhi Xuan said, pointing toward the Silver Tree whose canopy glowed. "As long as that tree still radiates silver light, I will always know that my home still stands."

  Without waiting for an answer, Zhi Xuan stepped forward as if walking on invisible stairs. His body began to fade, merging with the glow of the moonlight and the scent of sandalwood filling the night air. His figure disappeared slowly, leaving a grand silence on the burial slope.

  Zhi Xuan now hovered high above the clouds, far beyond the reach of the city dwellers' mortal eyes. From this height, Star City looked like a spread of silver jewels scattered in the middle of the dark Star Wilderness. He saw the lanterns he had passed earlier still dancing in the sky, carrying the light of hope that he now felt he was helping to protect.

  His soul now felt as light as a swan's feather. All the turmoil, resentment, and coldness he had gathered over these hundreds of years seemed to have been sanctified by the tears shed at Aunt Lian’s grave. He took a deep breath, inhaling the essence of the world that now felt purer to his senses.

  He looked back toward the Central Continent, waving his hand, and in his grip was the Snow Phoenix Jade. He could feel the resonance of the karmic bond responding. "Qinglan, I am coming back."

  Zhi Xuan turned his body in the sky, turning his back on Star City, which now looked like a pool of silver light in the middle of the ocean of darkness that was the Star Wilderness. The Snow Phoenix Jade in his hand vibrated, emitting a sacred chill—an inner resonance connecting two souls across thousands of miles of mountains and valleys.

  "Wait for me," he whispered, his voice vanishing in the roar of the strong wind at the heights of the sky.

  He faded into a shadow, his body shifting dozens of miles forward several times, creating energy ripples that cut through the air as he slowly approached Green Cloud City. The city looked different from how it was when he first traveled between continents to enter the Thousand Heavens Sect; it appeared even more majestic, though the Qinglong steps remained the same, carrying the same aura.

  He slowly landed outside the city gates, looking at the southern mountains surrounding Green Cloud City. He stepped inside and gazed at the surroundings that were once again familiar to his eyes. Zhi Xuan’s steps on the streets of Green Cloud City felt incredibly light, yet every tap of his footwear seemed to carry an invisible weight of history. This city, the gateway to the grandeur of the Central Continent, still maintained its arrogance.

  He shifted his gaze from the Qinglong District, looking toward a narrow alley located between two majestic auction houses. He walked without haste, approaching a weapon shop: the Ten Thousand Weapons Gate. He walked in, looking at the same high shelves, storing weapons of all shapes and ages.

  The aroma of cold metal and weapon-sharpening oil greeted Zhi Xuan’s senses as he crossed the threshold. The atmosphere inside the Ten Thousand Weapons Gate seemed frozen in time; dust danced under the remaining light of oil lamps, and rows of swords and spears were lined up neatly on black wooden racks, everything just as it was hundreds of years ago.

  Behind a wooden counter polished by age, a small and thin man was working on a cracked dagger. His hair was whitening at the temples, but his hands remained stable and his eyes as sharp as an eagle's. He did not look up, but his raspy voice echoed in the quiet room.

  "If you're looking for an Earth-grade treasure, you're in the wrong place, Traveler. Here we only serve steel that has a soul, not just shiny display pieces," the man said without looking away from the dagger.

  Zhi Xuan was stunned for a moment. That voice... though heavier and more parau, had a tone he recognized very well. He stepped closer, letting his black-and-white robes sweep the wooden floor with a soft hiss.

  "I am not looking for an Earth-grade treasure, Old Man Dun," Zhi Xuan replied with a flat tone that contained a hidden familiarity. "I have come only to greet the figure who once sold me the Ocean-Shattering Thunder Sword."

  The old man instantly froze. His fingers, which were holding a sharpening steel, stopped in mid-air, creating a haunting silence among the hanging weapons. Slowly, he looked up. His eyes, originally dim, widened as they caught the reflection of the moonlight coming through the door gap, illuminating the man before him.

  "That voice..." Old Man Dun murmured. He set down his cracked dagger with a slightly trembling hand. He squinted, trying to pierce the mist of time that had separated them for hundreds of autumns. "The Ocean-Shattering Thunder Sword?"

  Old Man Dun stood up, his hunched body appearing even smaller before the towering Zhi Xuan. He walked out from behind the wooden counter, stepping closer until he could look directly into those clear sapphire eyes.

  "Only one madman bought that sword back then," Old Man Dun whispered, his voice now trembling violently. "You... the Blood Transformation brat who brought that little girl here?"

  Old Man Dun took a step back, his breath hitching as if he had just seen a ghost emerging from an ancient scroll painting. He rubbed his eyes repeatedly with a rag, then looked back at Zhi Xuan. The majesty radiating from the figure before him was no longer like waves crashing on the shore, but like a deep, endless ocean—calm yet capable of drowning the world.

  Zhi Xuan wore a thin smile, an expression he rarely showed to the outside world. "Time is indeed cruel, Old Man. Correct, I came here with the little girl who was my adopted sister back then."

  Old Man Dun laughed hoarsely, a laugh that ended in a small cough. He leaned against a rack displaying rows of old swords. "Brat... no, now you are a monster capable of shaking the heavens. How is it possible? Hundreds of years have passed since you stepped out of this shop to head to the Thousand Heavens Sect. I thought you would never return to the Southern Continent."

  Zhi Xuan walked slowly, his fingers touching the hilt of a longsword hanging nearby. "Many things have happened. But destiny, it seems, still grants me the chance to set foot in this place again."

  Old Man Dun shook his head, his wrinkled face deepening as he laughed softly. "This cultivation world is truly unfair. I am still here, sharpening steel that can never speak, while you... you have surpassed what an old man like me can even imagine."

  Zhi Xuan shifted his gaze toward the inner racks, where old weapons rarely touched by buyers were kept. "How are you, Old Man? I see your shop still stands tall in the middle of the bustle of Green Cloud City."

  "Surviving, Brat. That's all I can do," Old Man Dun replied while walking toward an old wooden chair in the corner of the room. He signaled for Zhi Xuan to sit, though he knew the chair might be too simple for someone of his stature. "This city is indeed grand, but beneath the shadows of its glory, there is always dust piling up. I am just dust that refuses to be swept away."

  He paused for a moment, his blurring eyes staring intently at Zhi Xuan. "And your little sister? The girl you brought back then... whose aura was so strange and who seemed not to age. Where is she now?"

  Zhi Xuan felt a subtle ripple in his soul. The image of Mei Hua’s cheerful face from back then flashed for a moment; perhaps she was now with the Ancient Hua Clan as he had once requested. "She is in a safe place. Far from the reach of the storms that so often follow me."

  Old Man Dun nodded vaguely; he did not ask more. "You've returned here, surely not just to meet this old man. Tell me, what can I get for you here?"