The weaving of the Starlit Memory had left Li Wei, now in his late seventies, with a fragile but radiant spirit, his qi flickering faintly as his frail body edged closer to its end. The hidden valley, with its shimmering pool, ancient tree, and dimming blossoms, pulsed with a quiet energy that seemed to cradle the warmth in his dantian—a warmth he still believed was his nascent Golden Core, nurturing a fledgling Nascent Soul, whether real or a delusion born of a lifetime's striving. Azure Dragon, his elderly and scruffy spirit beast, remained a loyal companion, curled by the stone altar, his clouded eyes and slow breaths mirroring Li Wei's own decline. With trembling, scarred hands, Li Wei turned the scroll's worn bamboo slats, their familiar weight a comfort in his twilight years. The scroll's latest passage unveiled a haunting new challenge: "The Eternal Echo, where the voices of the Dao's past resound, offering wisdom or judgment to the cultivator's waning soul."
In the cultivation novels Li Wei had read in his Beijing days, eternal echoes were profound encounters—spectral voices of ancient masters or the Dao itself, guiding or judging cultivators at life's end. The scroll's description was poetic but poignant: "Listen to the echoes of eternity in the heart's silence, for their wisdom lights the soul's final path. Purity hears the truth, but regret deafens the spirit." Li Wei, tempered by lightning, betrayal, and countless visions, felt a quiet resolve tinged with melancholy. His life's trials—the Lightning Tribulation, the betrayals of Wang Hao and Lin Tao, the visions of starry paths and phoenixes—had shaped his pursuit, and now, as his body faltered, he sought to hear the Dao's final wisdom. His joints ached, his fever lingered, and the infections in his hand and arm throbbed, but the valley's mystical aura and the scroll's promise urged him to listen.
Li Wei prepared with the reverence of an elder awaiting ancestral voices. He sat by the shimmering pool, its surface reflecting the stars like a mirror of eternity. The altar, weathered by decades, bore stones etched with star-like patterns inspired by the Starstone, channeling the valley's fading qi. He placed the scroll, jade slip, Starstone, and stolen booklet at its center, surrounded by the ancient tree's dim blossoms, their light a soft glow in the twilight. Azure Dragon watched, his breathing labored, as Li Wei sipped the valley's crystal-clear water, its coolness a brief balm against his persistent fever. The scroll called for a meditative trance to "hear the echoes," so he chose a moonless night, when the valley's darkness would amplify the whispers, to begin.
As midnight cloaked the valley in shadow, Li Wei settled by the altar, the Starstone in one trembling hand, the jade slip pressed to his chest. He chanted the scroll's incantations, their rhythmic tones blending with the valley's whispers, now faint but resonant, like voices from a distant past. He focused on his dantian, visualizing his Golden Core as a dimming star, his Nascent Soul a frail but glowing figure ready to hear eternity. The scroll urged him to "listen with purity," so he opened his mind, letting the whispers guide his trance. The warmth in his dantian flickered, and he felt a tingling sensation, as if the Dao's voices were drawing near.
Hours passed, his body trembling from the strain, his fever flaring, the pain in his scarred wounds throbbing with each heartbeat. In his trance, the valley faded, replaced by a starry void where a robed figure appeared—its form shimmering like the Starstone's spirals, its eyes glowing with timeless wisdom. "You sought the Dao," it whispered, its voice a chorus of echoes. "What wisdom do you carry?" Li Wei's heart faltered, regrets stirring—his mother's unanswered letters, Mei Ling's lost smile, the scroll's jest—but he answered, his voice frail but resolute: "The Dao is in persistence, in striving despite doubt." The figure's eyes softened, and it spoke again: "Your echo joins eternity." The vision shattered, and he awoke gasping, slumped by the pool, Azure Dragon whining softly and nudging his face.
The Starstone felt faintly warmer, as if touched by the echo's wisdom, and his dantian pulsed weakly, as if his soul had heard eternity. Had he truly heard the Eternal Echo, or was it another fevered vision? The scroll promised wisdom but warned of regret, and Li Wei chose to believe he'd succeeded, finding solace in the Dao's voice. He scribbled in his notebook, hands trembling: "Eternal Echo heard. Wisdom lights, body fades. Dao endures." The valley's whispers softened, the ancient tree's blossoms glowing faintly.
During the next video call with the Order of the Jade Dawn, now led by an aging Liu Mei, with Chen Xiu's fervent mysticism and Zhao Feng's pragmatic leadership, Li Wei shared the vision, describing the robed figure and its timeless words. Zhang Wei, now a chemist, suggested herbal tonics to ease his pain, while Liu Mei, her face lined with age, urged him to seek hospice care: "The echo guides the soul, but the body needs rest." Chen Xiu saw it as proof of ascension, while Zhao Feng, softened but skeptical, called it a memory of faith, their debate tempered by reverence for Li Wei's endurance. He hid his worsening fever and pain, fearing their concern might fracture their unity.
As dawn broke, Li Wei rested by the pool, the Starstone in his hands, Azure Dragon snoring softly, his breaths labored. The scroll promised that the Eternal Echo lit the soul's final path, but hinted at the finality of his journey. The valley's energy, his sect's support, and the scroll's guidance bolstered him, even as his body weakened. With his Golden Core and Nascent Soul flickering as beacons, Li Wei felt ready to face the next challenge, his soul resonating with the Dao's eternal echo, one whispered truth at a time toward eternity.