The night moon cast a cold and dim light. The land was vast and open — there was nothing but the soft rustle of the wind passing through, faint and indistinct in the darkness. The steppe rose and fell like the sea, stretching to the very ends of the earth, a boundless desolation.

In this quiet and desolate night — in this vast and barren expanse of heaven and earth — two figures walked side by side. Like a pair of immortals gliding over water, they strolled beneath the moonlight across a steppe that stretched as far as the eye could see.

For hundreds of thousands of li there was no sign of human habitation. Occasionally a lone wolf howled at the moon, drawing in lunar essence to refine its demon core — and nothing else.

Ye Fan and An Miaoyi said nothing. They drifted through the air in this manner, strolling on and on, absorbing a kind of clarity and gentle ease.

No longer distant. No longer cold. No longer holding the world at arm’s length. Now a soft haze of light connected them — as though they had merged into one.

“I must go to the Western Desert again.” After a long while, An Miaoyi spoke softly. Her dark hair hung loose, setting off the face that was white and luminous as mutton-fat jade.

“Why? Is it not good to stay?” Ye Fan said.

“My Dao lies in the Western Desert. The road I must walk is my own to walk. To reach full perfection, I must experience it firsthand.” An Miaoyi was slender and graceful. In the cold moonlight, she seemed as though she might ride the wind and depart, returning to the heavens above.

“If you journey all the way west alone, how can I be at ease? I said I would guard your Dao — how can I let you go on your own?” Ye Fan looked at her quietly.

“The Dao that is one’s own must be walked by oneself. If I cannot even cross the Immortal Third Severance of the Dao without your help, what right do I have to set foot on that long road of cultivation ahead? I’m not someone to be a burden, you know.” At this, An Miaoyi gave a light laugh, and the entire cold and pure night brightened for a moment. She radiated astonishing beauty — her graceful figure flowing with a holy radiance — and said: “Wait until your Holy Physique is complete, or even fully perfected, and then come guard my Dao.”

Ye Fan gazed at her in a daze, at a loss for words. This was a woman who made the heart stir — stunning, in every way. Many things need not be spoken aloud; they were already perfectly understood.

“The road of cultivation is full of the unpredictable — especially at the threshold of the Immortal Third Severance of the Dao. Even the most brilliant and exceptional of people can meet with accidents. In ancient times, some of the great Sages of the human race have walked through nine deaths before barely managing to cross, nearly severing themselves.” Ye Fan said.

This threshold was full of variables and was deeply complex. The barriers to be severed were exceedingly difficult — the stakes immense. It was said that even ancient Great Emperors in their youth had once nearly perished at this very juncture.

The experiences were different, the circumstances were different, and so the severing of the Dao was different too. Natural talent and genius might not always be an aid — they could even become obstacles.

“Little man, are you worried about me?” An Miaoyi smiled sweetly, a knowing brilliance flickering in her eyes. “This threshold, in the end, must be crossed by oneself. It touches on the road ahead — one can only rely on personal experience.”

Ye Fan saw how resolute she was and felt a sudden jolt of concern. Though it was not absolute, sometimes the obstacles faced by those of exceptional brilliance could be all the greater.

“Then stay. Unless the critical moment arrives, I will not intervene.”

An Miaoyi shook her head, firm and resolute. “My Dao fruit lies in the Western Desert — I can only go there. You need not worry.”

Ye Fan wanted to say something but did not know how to begin. The Immortal Third Severance of the Dao was truly extraordinary. In ancient times there had been several transcendent geniuses — said to be comparable to the greatest of the successive young Great Emperors, even surpassing them in some respects — yet all had fallen at this very threshold. They were inscribed in the history books, unforgettable to those who came after.

People had often wondered: if those few had crossed over, would there have been several more Great Emperors? But there was no “if.” Once they failed, no matter how brilliant they had been in life, they returned to the dust.

The two fell silent once more, drifting along the desolate steppe beneath the moonlight — robes and sleeves swaying in the breeze, like a pair of immortals in all but name.

“Do you believe in past lives?” After an unknowable span of time, An Miaoyi suddenly asked.

“Why do you ask?” Ye Fan looked at her.

“The Buddhist school teaches suffering in this life to cultivate a better next.” An Miaoyi said.

“Who can say anything about a next life? Have you ever seen an ancient Great Emperor reincarnated? People like that never appear twice — how can one believe in it?”

“But how do you know an ancient Great Emperor did not prove the Dao of a past life, and thereby attain Dao in that existence?” An Miaoyi smiled.

“You cultivate in both Buddhism and Daoism, don’t you? Buddhism speaks of future lives; Daoism centers on this life. Do not dwell on things so ethereal and formless.” Ye Fan’s expression was grave.

“You should understand — there are deities in the Dao Palace. It is said that the past self chants sutras for the present self, illuminating this life. I feel as though I have caught a glimpse of my past self — and so I have come to somewhat believe in the self of a future life.” An Miaoyi smiled.

The human body has five great Secret Realms. When any single Secret Realm is cultivated to its ultimate peak, one gains the power to pierce the heavens and overturn the earth. Many wise people of antiquity focused their entire cultivation on a single Secret Realm.

The Dao Palace is the second of the five great Secret Realms. Even Ye Fan had once been lost within it. He had once heard his past self chanting sutras for his present self — though some said it was the Dao self, apprehending the rules and order of the Dao of heaven and earth.

“Do not think so much.” Ye Fan said to her, his eyes on the woman before him — feeling a creeping sense of unreality, afraid that once she left, he would never see her again.

Without noticing, they came to stand before a great mountain. Mountains were rare on the steppe — the land was mostly flat and open — but when one did appear, it was invariably towering and imposing.

On the cliff face, secluded orchids drifted their fragrance. Rare blooms opened in splendor. Dragon Grass swayed gently. Sweet perfume filled the air.

“Look at those flowers — when the autumn wind comes, every one of them will return to the root and turn to earth. Yet after a spring rain passes, there will be flowers blooming again. Perhaps people are the same.” An Miaoyi murmured.

“What’s wrong with you? Have you had a premonition of something?” Ye Fan turned sharply, fixing his gaze on her.

An Miaoyi’s dark hair floated freely. Her body shimmered with a luminous glow. Her brow was clear and pale, her eyes bright and vivid, her figure slender and graceful — spirit and elegance in full bloom. She was like a deity — brilliantly beautiful, striking to the core.

In that moment, she was plainly standing right before him — yet made one feel she was very far away, her voice empty and distant: “If I truly fall, then take it as watching a beautiful shower of flowers bloom brilliantly — and then wither.”

“Why do you say such things?” Ye Fan seized her by the shoulders.

“There is no need to worry. Perhaps in ten or a hundred lifetimes I will appear again — like that withered flower stalk, awaiting the day it blooms once more, one day shining brilliantly upon this world again. The prerequisite is that you prove the Dao — only then can you live to see that day. Perhaps you will meet again a flower that seems somehow familiar as it blooms anew.” An Miaoyi’s smile was radiant, yet it made the heart ache.

“What are you saying? Stop thinking such things. What future life, what past — I only need to be unrivaled in this life. Every last entanglement, every Buddhist decree — I will blast them all apart!” Ye Fan said.

“Little man really is domineering. I hope you are unrivaled in this life too — whatever entanglement, whatever Buddhist fate, whatever wild karma — blast it all apart, smash it all to pieces.” An Miaoyi laughed, like an immortal flower blooming in full splendor at the height of its brilliance.

The two of them climbed the mountain step by step. A long while passed without a word exchanged. They ascended slowly, without using spiritual power to move — like ordinary mortals making the climb.

“Little man, don’t worry about me. Consider it all just my rambling.” An Miaoyi’s laughter echoed through the mountains — melodious and pleasant.

“Why did you choose this kind of Dao?” Ye Fan asked.

“The Dao has ten thousand paths, but for each person there are only two — the right one and the wrong one.” An Miaoyi answered with calm serenity.

“Is there a bodhisattva or a Buddha guiding you on the road ahead?” Ye Fan asked. Then he looked toward the Western Desert and said: “Very well then — once I am unrivaled in this life, I will make a journey there. With these two fists I will blast apart every entanglement, climb Mount Sumeru and have a look.”

“Let’s not speak of these things. The future is too far away. Better to focus on the present — better yet, on this very moment.” An Miaoyi smiled with captivating beauty, her eyes like two pools of warm water — gentle enough to melt tempered steel a hundred times refined.

They climbed to the summit of the great mountain. Ahead, water mist billowed — it was a hot spring, bubbling and flowing, running forward to gather in a pool like a celestial lake, misty vapors rising in tendrils.

Not far away, wildflowers bloomed in riotous abundance — covering the ground entirely — in every hue and shade, vivid and brilliant, every color clashing splendidly, their fragrance rich and permeating the air, leaving one refreshed in body and spirit, as though stepping into a realm of the immortals.

An Miaoyi stood atop the mountain peak. With a single spin, she began to dance lightly — like the fairy of the Moon Palace moving through her steps, graceful and multifaceted.

Her dark hair was beautiful, her face breath-stopping, her large eyes vivid and alive. Her skin was smooth as congealed fat, her neck as white as a swan’s. Like a spirit of the moonlit night, she was beautiful to the point of stealing one’s breath.

Her curves were graceful and abundant. The white gauze skirt could not conceal the fullness of her figure. Her waist was slender enough to be encircled with one hand. Her legs were long, straight, and flawlessly shaped. As she danced with flowing elegance, she carried a kind of seductive charm capable of throwing the world into chaos — her figure absolutely stunning.

Vivid as the Dark Maiden of the highest heavens when she moved — untouched by mortal life. Yet when languorous and brilliantly alluring, a single glance over her shoulder brought a hundred kinds of enchantment — capable of turning the world upside down.

This woman — a legendary beauty from time immemorial — was stunning to all under heaven, so beautiful that no flaw could be found, making one suspect she was the most perfect masterpiece heaven had ever created.

She danced beneath the night moon, then began to sing softly — a wondrous melody lingering in the ears, its spirit and charm inexhaustible, intoxicating all who heard it.

“Little man, I must go now…” Landing lightly on the ground, An Miaoyi turned, ready to ride the wind away. “She is coming back. My time is nearly up.”

Ye Fan seized her hand, saying nothing — only looking at her quietly.

An Miaoyi immediately gave a soft laugh, her gaze bewitching, stirring the heart.

A single spin, and the two pressed close together — beneath the night moon, beside the hot spring with its drifting water mist — white robes like flowers, light and graceful, dancing freely.

It was a body of pure white and luminous warmth, shimmering with crystalline radiance in the moonlight, every inch flowing with light — incomparably holy.

Yet when An Miaoyi smiled, she was fully capable of toppling a city with a single glance — an indescribably captivating beauty. The air of one who could overturn the world and the sacred collided in contradiction — a profound tension.

Holy as a divine maiden — yet with the alluring charm of one who had descended into the mortal world. The body, white as jade, moved with a serpentine grace, light and supple, setting the blood racing.

The two merged together beneath the night moon — vivid and free as immortals — the spring pool misty and hazy around them, where two silhouettes could be faintly glimpsed. It was a realm of the immortals.

Crystalline flower petals drifted through the air, submerging the entire hot spring pool. This place had become a sacred and amorous sanctuary.

When the breeze passed and the mist parted, one could just make out a body white as ivory and a powerful frame shimmering with an ancient bronze treasure-radiance, intertwined together.

The silver moon moved west. No one knew how long had passed. The spring pool grew still and quiet. Two figures lay side by side, gazing up at the starry sky in long silence.

Another half an hour passed. An Miaoyi’s entire body glimmered with crystalline light — holy and flawless. She turned lightly, rose into the air, and a full white gown drifted down, covering that jade-like figure.

Ye Fan rose as well, gazing at her in silence — feeling a vast distance between them.

A crystalline flower bud drifted down, coming to rest between An Miaoyi’s slender jade fingers — setting her off as all the more ethereal and unworldly, elevated and remote.

“Flowers have a day when they bloom again; people have a time when they return. When they look back — the heart is still the same. Even if a flower withers, in ten or a hundred lifetimes there will be another meeting. If you prove the Dao, look with your heart for that flower that seems somehow familiar.”

An Miaoyi laughed amid a shower of flower petals — free and unrestrained — and departed just like that. Yet she left a tremor in Ye Fan’s heart.

That glorious figure was forever seared into the depths of his soul. An Miaoyi, growing ever more distant — like a deity holding a flower and smiling, half in serenity, half in grace. That smile in that fleeting moment became an eternal image.