The silver threads beneath their feet dissolved into golden mist, and for a moment, the world was still.
No enemies.
No movement.
No trial announcements.
Only silence—deep, immense, and oddly sacred.
From the dissolving battlefield rose a new path. It shimmered like sunlight on water, not woven from thread, but carved from solid light, each step echoing with quiet resonance. Above them, the sky began to clear, the oppressive violet fading into a pale, serene blue.
Zhu Zhuqing leaned lightly on Li Wei's shoulder, her wound freshly bandaged with strips of cloth from his coat to prevent any additional bleeding until it fully heal.
"...Feels different," she murmured.
He nodded slowly. "This isn't a battlefield anymore. It's… something else."
The golden path spiraled upward, vanishing into a floating, radiant gate that seemed to breathe with the rhythm of their steps. Beyond it, the final trial waited—not one of power or combat, but something deeper.
Something older.
They walked.
Flender, stoic but visibly worn, strode at the front beside Liu Erlong and Zhao Wuji, who had finally let down his guard enough to limp. Behind them followed the younger generation, bloodied but proud—Li Wei at the center, Zhu Zhuqing at his side, Xiao Wu, Ning Rongrong, and Meng Yiran close behind.
None spoke much.
Even Xiao Wu, usually quick with teasing words, walked in thoughtful silence, eyes fixed on the shining gate ahead.
_____________
The Loom Beyond Light
The gate opened not with force, but with acknowledgment.
As they passed through, the world transformed.
The team found themselves standing in an endless chamber—a hall of mirrors and threads.
Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of glowing thread-lines crisscrossed the air, forming vast patterns like constellations in a sky made of silk. Every step echoed across the emptiness, yet the space didn't feel cold.
It felt… alive.
Floating in the center of the room was a loom.
Massive, ancient, woven not from wood or metal but from spirit energy itself. Threads passed through it endlessly, spinning across the air and forming images, memories, echoes of the past.
Zhu Zhuqing reached out instinctively as one passed by her face—and it shimmered.
An image appeared: her younger self, alone in the courtyard of the Star Luo Empire, bruised, training under moonlight.
Ning Rongrong breath hitched as another thread passed—her father standing proud and distant beside the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda sect elders.
Xiao Wu reached for a strand and saw Tang San, facing away from her.
Meng Yiran froze as a thread passed her—her grandmother, Meng Shu, watching her solemnly as she walked alone through a snake-infested forest.
Li Wei touched nothing—but he watched them all. Silently.
______________
Then the air shifted.
From the center of the loom, a figure began to form—not flesh, not spirit, but a radiant being of woven energy. Its face was ageless, its voice layered with echoes, male and female, child and elder, all at once.
[You have reached the final loom.]
The group instinctively fell into formation again.
[There is no more battle. No more enemy. Only choice.]
Zhao Wuji frowned. "Choice?"
[Every spirit is a thread. Every bond a weave. You have grown stronger, yes—but to pass the final trial… you must offer something.]
"Offer what?" Flender asked warily.
[A piece of your thread.]
The silence was immediate.
The being raised its arm, and a long golden thread pulsed across the space. One end vanished into the stars above. The other… pointed toward each of them in turn.
[A thread of fate. Of connection. One of you must offer something dear. A bond. A love. A memory.]
[You will not die. But the weave will change.]
The group stood still.
Meng Yiran crossed her arms. "So we give something up, just to move forward?"
[No. You choose to. Or not at all. If no one sacrifices, you may turn back. The path ends.]
Zhu Zhuqing gaze turned to Li Wei.
He met her eyes. A thousand thoughts passed silently between them.
Then Xiao Wu stepped forward.
"I'll do it," she said quietly. "Take… the memory of Tang San. My feelings for him. They don't serve me anymore."
"No." Zhu Zhuqing voice was soft but firm. "That's not a sacrifice. That's letting go of something already fading."
Rongrong brows furrowed. "Then… is it asking us to give up what we still want to keep?"
The figure nodded.
[True strength is not in gain. But in what you are willing to weave into others—even if it means losing something yourself.]
Li Wei took a slow breath.
His voice came low, certain. "I'll do it."
Everyone turned to him.
Zhu Zhuqing froze. "What—?"
"I'll give up the thread connecting me to my Riders." His gaze didn't waver. "Not my powers. But the personal bond—the spiritual connection. The memory that binds them to me. They'll remain tools. Not comrades."
"Li Wei—wait, no." Zhu Zhuqing stepped forward. "That's… that's a part of you."
"They've carried me far. But I've leaned on them too much. I need to walk forward with all of you." His eyes turned to her. "Not just ghosts of heroes long gone."
The weaver glow intensified.
[Are you sure?]
He nodded. "Let my bond with them become a thread for this team."
A pause.
"Well, well, well." A voice suddenly resound throughout the space. "Loom here, loom there, weave here, weave there. You still tried to scam people over and over. You make me sick." The voice sound deeper more guttural.
"What.... What is this sound?" Flender ask skeptically.
"So old scammer. You can die here." A black mist fill out the space and the place where the radiant being of energy, behind him a colossal black claw appear from the portal.
The claw then swipe through the energy being.
[Argh... You!]
The being made of energy can only utter that up before being torn apart.