Ji Tongzhou gazed silently at the snow-covered wall, where withered, yellow vines struggled to emerge from the snowdrifts. Come the scorching summer, when the ice and snow would melt away, countless heavy clusters of wisteria would cascade down the wall. Their fragrance would linger in the breeze, accompanied by the rhythmic chirping of cicadas, secretly entering a young man’s dreams at night.
He seemed to recall a vibrant memory from long ago. Back then, the sky must have been a clear blue, the vegetation a lush and exuberant green, and the flowers beneath the windowsill a riot of colors. Everything was bright and full of life.
Ji Tongzhou put away the Qilin Bone at his feet. His luxurious brocade boots stepped into the thick snow, seemingly unaccustomed to it, as if he had almost forgotten how to trudge through the snow. As he slowly walked half a circle along the wall, occasional young disciples from the academy passed by in white robes with red skirts or pants. Each had a tender face with bright eyes, curiously yet respectfully observing this white-haired immortal, though none dared to approach and disturb him.
His footsteps halted before a small courtyard gate. He paused for a moment, then slowly raised his hand to brush away some snow, revealing carved words: “Qilin Chamber,” “Thousand Fragrances Chamber,” and “Tranquil Profundity Chamber.”
Pushing open the gate, he saw three familiar yet strange large rooms. The courtyard’s snow had been swept spotlessly clean. For a fleeting moment, several figures seemed to appear before his eyes – still youthful in stature, little girls in white robes and red skirts chattering away, boys whose heights were just beginning to shoot up, secretly comparing who had grown taller.
But in another blink, all the figures vanished. At this moment, in this scene, only he remained standing here. The things were the same, but the people were gone.
The sharp sound of a flying sword piercing through the air came from behind. The newcomer stepped forward and bowed respectfully, “Master, it’s already noon.”
Ji Tongzhou turned around, gazing at the handsome and dignified 11 or 12-year-old boy before him, vaguely seeing his younger self. After 400 years, the royal family of Yue finally produced another child with profound spiritual roots. Four hundred years ago, due to a twist of fate, he had not been directly taken into the Star Rectification Pavilion by Xuanshan Zi. This child was far luckier than he had been.
Ji Tongzhou rarely showed a hint of warmth, his voice softer than usual: “Jingwu, is this your first time at the Fledgling Phoenix Academy? How do you find it?”
Ji Jingwu couldn’t quite grasp his master’s thoughts. This ancestor of the Yue royal family was usually stern and unsmiling, extremely severe and cold. He was quite afraid of him.
After pondering for a moment, he cautiously replied, “Disciple thinks the academy is quite good. Although it’s not as grand and imposing as the Star Rectification Pavilion, the scenery is exquisite, and the atmosphere is much more relaxed. Cultivating here, one should be able to make some kindred friends, right?”
Kindred friends. Ji Tongzhou smiled. At eleven or twelve, children are indeed most eager to make friends.
“Back then, your master once cultivated here,” he said lightly. “And indeed made some kindred friends.”
Ji Jingwu looked at him curiously, as if not daring to ask how he had never seen this immortal with any kindred friends.
The Qilin Bone slung across Ji Tongzhou’s back shot out like a meteor. The white-robed, white-haired immortal leaped up gracefully, his voice once again turning cold: “As for friends, you’ll one day discover they’re useless for cultivation. Your urgent task is to focus on cultivation and figure out where your cultivation heart lies as soon as possible. If you only know how to play all day, how can your master feel at ease to ascend?”
Ji Jingwu agreed obediently. This child’s temperament was vastly different from his own back then. Perhaps it was because Yue had been prosperous for over 400 years under his protection, expanding its territory to the utmost. The royal family didn’t understand the crisis or urgency at all. Even though they finally had someone with spiritual roots, that internal string remained slack, still not grasping why they should cultivate. He couldn’t be compared to his former self, who had been anxious all day long.
Countless immortals had already gathered above the main hall on the floating island at the center of the academy. Two days ago, the last long-lived founder of the academy, Master Zuoqiu, had closed his eyes and passed away, causing sighs throughout the cultivation world.
Most of the now-famous immortals and elders of various families had come from the academy, and almost all held affection and respect for this kind-hearted elder immortal. An immortal’s lifespan is much, much longer than that of mortals, but as long as one hasn’t achieved the Great Dao, one still can’t escape the cycle of life and death.
Two hundred years ago, Sang Hua Jun, the longest-lived immortal in the cultivation world, passed away. He had been the first person everyone believed might achieve the Great Dao, but ultimately he fell short by that one step. In the following years, the academy’s founders perished one after another. Finally, it was Master Zuoqiu’s turn. After arranging the academy’s successors, he quietly ascended in the dead of night.
The replacement of the old with the new is the way of heaven, and the cultivation world is no exception. Once, the elder immortals had silently watched their seniors ascend. Now it was the turn of these newly promoted ones, and later, it would be their juniors continuing the great cause of cultivation. Although those who achieve the Great Dao are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns, almost an impossibility, there are still so many people striving for that tiny glimmer of hope.
A thousand-year crystal bed was placed before the main hall, with Master Zuoqiu’s body lying peacefully upon it. The nine arranged successors of the academy surrounded him, bowing deeply. Thousands of immortals above the floating island silently paid their respects in unison. After the ceremony, heavenly fire instantly consumed Master Zuoqiu’s body. Although cultivators’ bodies don’t return to dust, Master Zuoqiu had devoted his entire life to the academy, so being cremated within it was likely his wish.
As the bright red flames gradually extinguished, the body on the crystal bed turned into the finest dust, no longer visible. The immortals descended from the clouds one by one, greeting and paying respects to the nine new academy successors. Ji Tongzhou led Ji Jingwu, flying swiftly forward. The surrounding immortals, upon seeing him, immediately made their way and bowed respectfully, filled with awe.
This immortal of the Star Rectification Pavilion, now known by the Daoist title Xuanhua Zi, was considered the most renowned in the cultivation world. It was said he was a once-in-a-millennium genius who achieved immortal status in just twenty short years after beginning cultivation, causing a sensation at the time. Three hundred years ago, he further distinguished himself by becoming the youngest elder of the Hua Gate. His Daoist title, Xuanhua, was taken from the founder of the Star Rectification Pavilion, Xuanhua Zi, with the character “Xuan Hua” referring to the extremely special flame they possessed – the Xuanhua Fire.
While Xuanhua Immortal’s fame was great, he was also known for being difficult to get along with. This man was ambitious; under his protection, Yue had annexed neighboring countries year after year, many of which were under the protection of other sect elders and immortals. Hindered by his strength and difficult to defeat, with the now-declining Dragon Name Sect serving as a cautionary tale, others could only be angry but not dare to speak out.
After paying respects to the nine academy successors, Ji Tongzhou casually exchanged a few words with them. Seeing that it was getting late and concerned that Ji Jingwu’s day of cultivation had not yet begun, he was about to leave when he looked back and saw the boy hiding far away, laughing and playing with a little girl in the corner of the main hall.
Ji Tongzhou felt annoyed and immediately walked over, coldly calling out, “Jingwu.”
Ji Jingwu was startled and hurriedly knelt to pay his respects, “Master, I… I was just casually chatting with this junior sister…”
Ji Tongzhou ignored him, only glancing indifferently at the little girl beside him wearing the disciple’s uniform of the Moonless Pavilion. She was also only eleven or twelve years old, but exceptionally beautiful, with a white dress, black hair, and red flowers. His heart suddenly stirred, and those long-sealed distant memories involuntarily leaked out. For a moment, he forgot to reprimand Ji Jingwu.
“It’s in children’s nature to love playing. Why must Xuanhua Immortal be so stern?” A cold female voice sounded from behind. Following it, a middle-aged woman wearing the elder’s robe of the Moonless Pavilion approached gracefully. She appeared to be in her forties, yet was extraordinarily graceful and beautiful. This was Zhao Min, the elder of Falling Jade Peak in the Moonless Pavilion. She was also quite a famous female immortal, known for not taking a Daoist title after becoming an immortal, always allowing people to address her by her given name, Zhao Min, which was quite rare.
Seeing her, the little girl immediately smiled and bowed, “Disciple greets Master.”
Zhao Min said gently, “You and this senior brother from the Star Rectification Pavilion can go play elsewhere. Don’t be too noisy.”
The little girl answered yes, then boldly took Ji Jingwu’s hand, pulling him away while he kept looking back as they went to continue their chat elsewhere.
Ji Tongzhou cupped his hands in greeting. His relationship with the Moonless Pavilion had always been poor, with too many past frictions, especially with this Immortal Zhao Min before him. Although they had never had any direct contact, there were various grudges, both open and hidden, from even before he became an immortal. He and she had nothing to say to each other.
Zhao Min looked at him for a moment. This immortal who had become famous at a young age, though with a head full of white hair, still had a face as handsome and dignified as in his youth. This snow-white hair seemed to be the result of exhausting his essence in his eagerness to achieve immortal status back then. That episode was no longer remembered by many, and most who did remember had died by his hand. The grudges between her and this man were too numerous to recount.
She suddenly spoke, “I’ve long heard of Xuanhua Immortal’s great name. Seeing you today, your bearing is indeed impressive, and your cultivation profound.”
Ji Tongzhou replied indifferently, “Immortal Zhao Min is too kind.”
He didn’t believe this female immortal had specifically sought him out for small talk. She was more likely harboring hatred, probably planning some way to take revenge on him. In four hundred years, some too many people held grudges against him, so many that he was completely unmoved, not even his heart-stirring. Any overwhelming hatred under his invincible Xuanhua Fire could only be burned to ashes with resentment. He feared nothing.
Zhao Min smiled and said leisurely, “The other day, while idly sorting through some dusty objects, I came across some rather nostalgic items. I think they might be interesting to Xuanhua Immortal as well.”
With that, she took out an ancient dressing-case from her sleeve. It was only the size of a palm, with faded black lacquer patterns. If not maintained with spiritual energy, it would have long since decayed.
Ji Tongzhou finally felt surprised. Even if she had suddenly attacked him, he could have understood, but what was this woman’s dressing case about? Moreover, the faint spiritual energy fluctuations remaining on that dressing-case after four hundred years – so familiar yet so strange –made his heart, steady as a rock for many years, begin to beat violently.
Zhao Min slowly opened the worn dressing case. It had two layers; the upper layer was empty, but the lower layer contained a lacquered wooden comb that looked as new as ever. It was adorned with golden powder depicting a pattern of a hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix, quite exquisite. Beside the lacquered comb was a small, lifelike purple jade cricket, so vivid it seemed it could hop up at any moment.
Ji Tongzhou drew in a sharp breath. He heard a door being quietly opened in the depths of his heart. In a blink, a young woman in a white dress with red flowers seemed to appear before him, cupping the purple jade cricket in her palm, smiling at him like a man: “Lend it to me for a couple of days, and I’ll return it to you.”
Play for two days? Turbulent waves surged in his heart, and he felt like laughing out loud.
Four hundred years had passed. Four hundred years gone by. A thousand autumns, one grand dream. What did this heart desire now?