Ji Tongzhou gazed quietly at the snow-laden wall, where withered yellow vines struggled to poke a few branches through the drifts. In the sweltering summer, freed from ice and snow, countless clusters of heavy wisteria would cascade from the walltop, their lingering fragrance mingling with the chorus of cicadas, slipping into the dreams of youths at night.
He seemed to recall a distant memory in vivid color—back then, the sky must have been a clear blue, the plants a bold and unruly green, the flowers beneath the windowsill a riot of hues. Everything had been bright and brimming with life.
Retracting the Qilin Bone beneath his feet, Ji Tongzhou stepped into the thick snow with his luxurious brocade boots, as if unaccustomed, nearly forgetting how to trudge through the snowy terrain. Walking slowly along the wall for half a circle, he occasionally passed young disciples of the academy, dressed in white robes with red skirts or trousers, all fresh-faced and bright-eyed, eyeing the white-haired Celestial with curiosity and reverence, yet none daring to approach and chatter.
His steps halted before a small courtyard gate. Pausing briefly, he slowly raised a hand to brush away some snow, revealing the carved characters beneath: "Qilin Chamber," "Thousand Fragrance Chamber," "Quiet Mystery Chamber."
Pushing open the gate, he was met with three large rooms, both familiar and foreign, the courtyard snow swept clean. In a daze, several figures seemed to materialize before him—youths with the awkward frames of adolescence, young girls in white robes and red skirts chattering away, boys just beginning to shoot up in height, secretly comparing who had grown taller.
But in another blink, all the figures vanished. Here and now, in this scene, he stood alone. The place remained, but the people were gone.
Behind him came the sharp sound of sword flying cutting through the air. The newcomer stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Master, it is nearly noon."
Ji Tongzhou turned to face the poised and delicate-looking boy of eleven or twelve, faintly reminiscent of his younger self. Four hundred years had passed, and at last, the Yue royal family had produced another child with a profound Spirit Root. Four centuries ago, by chance, he had not been taken directly to Star Rectitude Hall by Xuanshan Zi. This child was far luckier than he had been.
Rarely, a trace of warmth crossed Ji Tongzhou's expression, his voice softer than usual. "Jing Wu, is this your first time at Young Phoenix Academy? What do you think?"
Ji Jingwu hesitated, unsure of his master's mood. This elder of the Yue royal family was typically stern and unapproachable, exceedingly harsh—he was rather afraid of him.
After a moment's thought, he answered cautiously, "This disciple finds the academy quite pleasant. Though it lacks the grandeur of Star Rectitude Hall, the scenery is elegant, and the atmosphere much more relaxed. Cultivating here, one might even make some close friends."
Close friends. Ji Tongzhou smiled. At eleven or twelve, children were at the age most eager to form friendships.
"I once cultivated here myself," he said lightly. "And indeed, I made some close friends."
Ji Jingwu watched him curiously, as if wanting to ask but not daring—how was it he had never seen this Celestial with any close friends?Ji Tongzhou leaped gracefully onto the Qilin Bone slung diagonally across his back as it shot forward like a meteor. The white-robed, white-haired Celestial's voice turned cold once more: "So-called friends—you'll eventually find them utterly useless for cultivation. Your priority should be focusing on your practice and soon discerning where your cultivation heart lies. Fooling around all day—how can this master rest assured about ascending in the future?"
Ji Jingwu meekly assented. This child's temperament differed too much from his own younger days. Perhaps it was because the Yue Kingdom had enjoyed over four centuries of prosperity under his protection, expanding its territories to their limits. The imperial clan knew nothing of crisis or urgency. Even after finally producing a Spirit Root bearer, the tension in their hearts remained slack. To this day, the boy still hadn't grasped why one cultivates—utterly incomparable to his own anxious younger self.
Above the main hall of the floating island at the Academy's center, countless Celestials had already gathered. Two days prior, Zuoqiu Xiansheng—the last long-lived founder of the Academy—had closed his eyes forever, eliciting sighs throughout the cultivation world.
Most renowned Celestials and clan elders today had once studied at the Academy, nearly all holding deep affection for this benevolent elder. A Celestial's lifespan far exceeds a mortal's, yet until one achieves the Great Dao, none can escape the cycle of life and death.
Two centuries ago, Sang Hua Jun—then the cultivation world's longest-lived figure—passed away. Once considered the first likely to achieve the Great Dao, he ultimately fell short. In subsequent years, the Academy's founders departed one after another until only Zuoqiu Xiansheng remained. After arranging his successors, he quietly ascended at midnight when all was still.
The replacement of old by new follows heaven's way—so too in cultivation. Former elder Celestials had silently bid farewell to their predecessors; now it was the newcomers' turn. In time, their juniors would continue the cultivation legacy. Though Great Dao achievers remain rarer than phoenix feathers—almost impossibly so—countless still strive for that faint hope.
Before the main hall lay a millennia-old crystal bed bearing Zuoqiu Xiansheng's peaceful remains. Nine designated Academy successors surrounded it, bowing solemnly as countless Celestials above the floating island paid silent tribute. When rites concluded, heavenly flames instantly consumed the elder's body. Though cultivators' forms don't return to dust, Zuoqiu—who devoted his life to the Academy—likely wished for this cremation within its halls.
As crimson flames dwindled, the corpse dissolved into imperceptible motes. Celestials descended from clouds to greet the nine new successors. Ji Tongzhou led Ji Jingwu swiftly forward, nearby Celestials immediately parting ways and bowing respectfully at his approach.
This Celestial of Star Rectitude Hall, now bearing the Dao Title Profound Splendor, stood as the cultivation world's most renowned figure. Hailed as a once-in-a-millennium genius, he'd achieved Immortal Body within twenty years of cultivation—a sensation in his time. Three centuries later, he became the youngest Hua Gate elder. His title "Profound Splendor" derived from Star Rectitude Hall's founder, referencing their shared possession of the extraordinary Profound Splendor Fire.Xuanhua Immortal was renowned not only for his fame but also for his notoriously difficult temperament. Ambitious by nature, under his protection, the Kingdom of Yue had been annexing neighboring states year after year—many of which were under the patronage of elders and Celestials from other sects. Yet, intimidated by his overwhelming power and with the now-decimated sect Long Mingzuo serving as a stark warning, the masses could only seethe in silent fury.
After paying respects to the nine Academy heirs, Ji Tongzhou exchanged a few casual words with them. Noticing the late hour, he grew concerned that Ji Jingwu’s daily cultivation had yet to be settled. Just as he was about to take his leave, he turned and saw the boy hiding far away, laughing and playing with a little girl in a corner of the main hall.
Annoyed, Ji Tongzhou strode over and called coldly, "Jingwu."
Startled, Ji Jingwu immediately knelt and bowed. "Master, this disciple was merely chatting with this junior sister—"
Ji Tongzhou ignored him, his gaze shifting briefly to the young girl beside him, clad in a Moonless Court disciple uniform. She couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve, yet her delicate beauty stood out—pale dress, dark hair, and a red flower. A sudden pang of long-buried memories surged uncontrollably, momentarily distracting him from reprimanding Ji Jingwu.
"Children’s fondness for play is natural. Must Xuanhua be so stern?"
A cool female voice spoke from behind, followed by the graceful approach of a middle-aged woman in Moonless Court elder robes. Though she appeared to be in her forties, her dignified bearing and refined beauty marked her as none other than Zhaomin, the elder of Jade Fall Peak in the Moonless Court. A well-known female Celestial in her own right, she was unusual for refusing a Dao Title after attaining immortality, insisting on being addressed by her given name, Zhaomin.
The little girl immediately beamed and bowed. "This disciple greets Master."
Zhaomin said gently, "Go play elsewhere with this Star Rectitude Hall senior brother, but keep the noise down."
The girl nodded, then boldly took Ji Jingwu’s hand and led him away, the boy glancing back repeatedly as they resumed their laughter.
Ji Tongzhou clasped his hands in greeting. His relationship with the Moonless Court had always been strained, marred by past conflicts—especially with Zhaomin. Though they had never interacted directly, their enmity, both overt and covert, stretched back to before either had attained immortality, leaving little room for conversation.
Zhaomin studied him for a moment. This Celestial, famed from a young age, bore a face as noble and handsome as in his youth, though his hair had turned entirely silver—a consequence of his reckless pursuit of the Immortal Body, which had drained his vitality. Few remembered that history now; most who did had perished by his hand. The grievances between them were too numerous to recount.
She spoke abruptly, "Long have I heard of Xuanhua’s renown. Today, I see his imposing presence and profound cultivation are no exaggeration."
Ji Tongzhou replied indifferently, "You flatter me, Celestial Zhaomin."
He doubted she had sought him out for pleasantries. More likely, she bore grudges and sought retribution. Four hundred years had taught him that hatred was commonplace—so much so that it no longer stirred him, not even a flicker of emotion. Under the invincible might of his Profound Splendor Fire, even the most towering resentment could only burn away in futility. He feared nothing.Zhaomin smiled faintly and said leisurely, "In the past, when I had nothing better to do, I sorted through some long-forgotten objects and came across a few rather nostalgic items. I imagine they might also be of some interest to Master Xuanhua."
With that, she withdrew from her sleeve an ancient dressing case, no larger than a palm, its black lacquer patterns worn and tattered. Were it not for the spiritual energy maintaining it, the case would have long since decayed.
Ji Tongzhou was finally taken aback. Had she suddenly attacked him, he could have understood, but what was this woman's dressing case about? Moreover, the faint traces of spiritual energy fluctuation lingering on the case—so familiar yet so foreign—caused his heart, steady as a rock for so many years, to pound violently.
Zhaomin slowly opened the dilapidated dressing case. It had two layers: the upper one was empty, while the lower one held a lacquer wood comb, gleaming as if brand new, adorned with intricate golden patterns of a hundred birds paying homage to a phoenix. Beside the comb lay a small, lifelike Purple Jade Cricket, so vivid it seemed ready to leap up at any moment.
Ji Tongzhou drew a sharp breath. He distinctly heard a door in his heart creak open quietly. In a flash, a young girl in a white dress with red flowers seemed to appear before him, cradling the Purple Jade Cricket in her palm and grinning at him like a boy: "Lend it to me for a couple of days, and I'll return it."
A couple of days? His heart surged with turbulent emotions, and he nearly burst into laughter.
Four hundred years—four hundred years had passed. A grand dream spanning millennia—what was this heart of his truly yearning for?
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