Kai stood in a field of pale white lotuses that glowed faintly in the moonlight, each bloom as flawless as porcelain, the petals unmoving despite the open sky above. The stars shimmered in still patterns, their constellations familiar—but wrong, as if viewed from a world tilted a few degrees out of place.
Everything was silent. Not the silence of emptiness, but of sacredness. Of something vast and watching.
He turned slowly.
The field stretched endlessly in all directions, the lotuses parting for no one—until they did.
She walked toward him with steps so quiet they barely seemed to touch the earth.
The Immortal Paragon of the Pure Path.
She looked as she had the first time he'd glimpsed her during their last meeting—a vision of grace and luminous stillness, robed in soft light rather than cloth, her long hair tied with a shimmering thread that caught moonlight like water catches flame. She moved like poetry given form, every motion steeped in the gravity of centuries.
Kai bowed low, not out of duty, but reverence.
"Immortal Paragon."
"There's no need for titles here, Kai Feng," she said softly, her voice serene. "This is not the world of sects and banners. It is a place of spirit. And you have earned rest."
Kai rose. "I… didn't expect to meet you again."
"You didn't summon the dream. But your heart opened the way."
She stepped closer, her bare feet leaving faint trails of silver light across the lotus blooms. They did not bow beneath her—they seemed to bloom larger in her wake.
"The Blood Demon is no more," she said. "Because of you."
Kai hesitated. "Because of Han."
She inclined her head. "And yet it was your choice—to offer your life, your power, your place in the balance. That moment of clarity tilted the scales. Do not dismiss it."
The words settled around him like mist.
"You have earned more than rest." She paused. "You have earned a reward."
Kai blinked. "A reward?"
"I can offer one thing," she said. "A gift—rooted in soul, not power. A vision. A clarity. A piece of truth lost to the world, or a question that has long gone unanswered."
Kai didn't speak right away. The weight of that offer was immense. In his mind, so many images raced—Han's final sacrifice, Yin Shuang's tears, Meng Yao kneeling in the ash. A hundred questions, each more worthy than the last, pressed against the edge of his lips.
And yet, none of them left his mouth.
Instead, he looked at her more closely.
She stood no more than two arm-lengths away, head tilted slightly, hands folded with elegance—but there was something more. A flicker in her posture. A softness to her presence that tugged at the recesses of memory.
Something oddly familiar.
It wasn't the way she moved—it was the way she looked at him.
He had seen it before. In another face.
She smiled faintly. "You seem troubled."
Kai's brow furrowed. "It's nothing."
"You've never been one to carry nothing," she said with gentle humor. "Speak it."
The breeze returned—soft, carrying the scent of a memory. Damp earth. Blades clashing. Scrolls unrolling under candlelight. A girl's laughter, fierce and unrefined.
Jiang Xue.
Kai looked back at the Paragon, and for the first time since the dream began, his composure faltered.
It was the eyes.
That same quiet flame. The same way of listening—not just to words, but to the soul behind them.
He swallowed once.
"You resemble someone I've… only recently begun to heard of," he said slowly. "She lived many years ago. I don't expect you to know her."
The Paragon said nothing. She merely waited.
Kai stepped forward, the lotus petals parting without sound.
"A friend of mine, Yin Shuang told me about her. Her name was Jiang Xue, Yin Shuang's mother."
The Paragon's gaze remained calm but her breath, just barely, caught.
Kai saw it.
A fraction of a moment. A slip. If he hadn't spent the last year reading hidden meanings behind seemingly calm composures, he might have missed it.
But he didn't.
"You know her," he said softly.
The Paragon lowered her gaze.
Kai's heart thudded once, hard.
He took another step forward, voice quieter now, charged with something more than curiosity. "I thought it was just resemblance. A trick of spirit. But it's more, isn't it?"
She didn't answer.
"From what Yin Shunag told me of her, she was passionate. Stubborn. Brilliant." His tone sharpened. "And you… you feel like her. Not just in appearance, but in presence."
Still she said nothing. But her silence was no longer passive.
It was shielding something.
Kai's breath grew shallow.
"You spoke about reward. Of truth." His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Then tell me…"
He met her gaze, unwavering now.
"Do you know Jiang Xue?"