Tai Jian left the Medicine Valley under the veil of night, not daring to glance back. He feared not death, nor the decay of his body, but the sight of his daughter's tearful eyes. He knew—if he saw her sobbing, if he felt her tug at his sleeve—his heart would weaken, and the resolve he had forged over a decade would collapse. So he pressed forward, shoulders squared, never turning his head.
The stars above were bright, scattered across the heavens like shattered jade. Their light washed across his face, highlighting the creases of age that had begun to settle in. His steps were steady, yet within his body his strength faltered. His once-endless cultivation, which had shaken armies and terrified monarchs, began to flicker like a dying flame. Each breath carried away more of his life force, each heartbeat a reminder that his borrowed time had finally run out.
He did not resist. This was the path he had chosen long ago, when he sealed his martial arts and devoted himself to healing. For his daughter to live without chains of vengeance, without the shadow of his enemies, he had to fade quietly from the stage of the world.
Yet even a warrior prepared for death cannot silence the ache in his heart. Memories surged unbidden—Tie Hongchen's laughter beneath the plum blossoms, her tears the day they parted, the stubborn light in her eyes when she stood against him. The weight of ten years pressed upon him, heavy, suffocating.
And then, before him, the night split open.
A woman appeared, descending like a phantom woven of moonlight. She was beautiful beyond mortal reckoning, a goddess draped in an aura of eternity. Her presence froze the wind, stilled the cicadas, and made the earth itself seem to hold its breath.
But what truly shattered Tai Jian was her face.
She looked almost exactly like Tie Hongchen.
His knees trembled. His lips parted, yet no words came. He had endured countless battles, faced death a hundred times, but now—before this familiar yet impossible visage—his control broke. His eyes blurred, tears rolled freely down weathered cheeks. He knew she was not his Hong'er, yet the sight was enough to undo him.
For the first time in decades, Tai Jian wept openly.
The woman's eyes softened as she regarded him. "I can fulfill a wish for you."
His heart tightened. "Why?"
Her expression remained serene, yet there was a flicker of something hidden in her gaze. "Because I simply feel like doing so."
Tai Jian's lips curled into a weary smile, laughter bubbling out like the last embers of a fire. "My wish is already fulfilled."
"Are you sure?" she pressed.
He fell silent, head lowering. Slowly, painfully, he thought of the path he had walked. His daughter's small hands, her laughter as she chased fireflies, the way she stubbornly practiced martial forms even when her body ached. He thought of the empire he had abandoned, of brothers long gone, of the title of crown prince that no longer bound him. He thought of Tie Hongchen, waiting alone in the dark earth.
At last, he raised his head. His voice was soft, but firm.
"If you must grant me something… then let me look upon the Qin State one last time."
The woman's brows lifted. Of all the wishes a dying man could make, this was not what she expected. No plea for resurrection, no demand for power, no prayer for his daughter's safety. Just a final glimpse of the land he once called home.
She had seen countless mortals grovel before her, begging for life or glory. Yet this man, stripped of his strength, met her gaze without bowing, without fear.
This mortal truly was unlike the rest.
She was Feng Jiu—the phoenix spirit who had long shadowed Tie Hongchen's fate. Though puzzled, she would honor her word.
---
And so they walked.
Dressed in simple traveler's garb, Tai Jian and Feng Jiu roamed the Qin State. For an entire day they wandered side by side, unrecognized by those around them.
They crossed bustling markets where merchants shouted prices and children darted through alleys, oblivious to the quiet figure who once bore the empire's crown. They passed the palace gates, guarded by men too young to remember his face. They strolled through the training grounds where once he and his brothers had dueled for succession. Now the place rang only with the laughter of fresh recruits who knew nothing of the prince who had bled upon its stones.
Tai Jian paused at an old teahouse, sipping bitter brew while listening to commoners gossip about the new world—about rising sects, strange cultivators, and rumors of an approaching golden era. His name was not mentioned. Not once.
He smiled faintly. That was how it should be.
Before dusk, he paid one last visit to Xue Kai. Hidden from sight, he watched his disciple laugh with his children, saw the warmth of a family built on love. Pride filled his chest. He left without a word, only the echo of a smile lingering on his lips.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, Tai Jian returned to the mansion where Tie Hongchen rested.
The air grew solemn as he entered. Kneeling before her coffin, he bowed deeply, voice trembling.
"Hong'er… it has been too long. I will not let you be lonely any longer. Let me come and accompany you."
His words poured forth like a flood breaking through a dam. For ten years he had swallowed them; now they spilled freely.
"I traveled the lands, healed the sick, and saved many lives. I made a name as the Magic Hand, though I never revealed my true self. Our daughter—she grows strong in the Medicine Valley. She has your spirit, your beauty, your brilliance. I sealed my cultivation within her, passed down all my knowledge. She will carve her own path. I only regret that she never felt a mother's embrace."
Tears slid down his cheeks, but his voice remained steady.
"I feared loving you, yet I could not help but love. I feared losing you, and so I tried to drive you away. Still, I fell. Fate was cruel, but I do not regret. The yin-yang technique is gone; I burned it. I completed the Tai Chen Scriptures, but left them hidden. A new age is coming, Hong'er. Cultivators will rise, and the world will flourish. It is not ours—but perhaps it belongs to Ling'er."
He lifted a trembling hand, resting it against the cold surface of her coffin, as though stroking her cheek one final time.
At that moment, he was not a healer, nor a prince, nor a war god. He was simply a husband longing to reunite with his wife.
A serene smile touched his lips. He closed his eyes. His breath grew shallow, then ceased. His soul drifted free. For the first time in a decade, Tai Jian felt peace.
---
Far away in the Medicine Valley, Qin Tie Ling sat in meditation. Suddenly her heart clenched. Tears welled in her eyes before she understood why. She tilted her head to the heavens, tears streaking her cheeks, and whispered:
"Father… you must be greeting Mother now."
Her sorrow was deep, yet there was no despair. Only relief. Her parents were together at last.
And as she stared into the night sky, a figure appeared before her.
Feng Jiu.
The goddess stood silently, her presence vast, her gaze searching. Though the aura of an immortal pressed down like a mountain, Tie Ling did not flinch. She remained calm, her eyes steady—so much like her father's.
"You are more like him than you know," Feng Jiu murmured, her heart stirred. This child was not only Tie Hongchen's daughter, but in a sense, her own. The bond of spirit tied them in ways mortals could not comprehend.
She studied the girl for a long moment, troubled yet resolute. Finally, she asked:
"Are you willing to come with me?"
Tie Ling tilted her head slightly, voice soft but clear. "Will Father be there?"
Feng Jiu hesitated. "He will. But in that place, he may not be the same. You may not recognize him."
Tie Ling's lips curved into the faintest smile. "That doesn't matter. As long as he recognizes me."