The path narrowed until it was barely a trail, swallowed by hanging vines and soft wisteria-colored mist. Leaves whispered above them as if ancient spirits murmured secrets through the branches. Each step carried them deeper into untouched wilderness—untamed, sacred, strangely welcoming.
The river sprite floated ahead, its form flickering like a lantern made of water. When it turned back to check on them, its glowing eyes reflected the surrounding forest as if it held the memories of every river that had ever flowed here.
Rong Qi peeked out of Jiang Yunxian's lapel, his feather shimmering in soft flame-like hues.
"Oh, this place is old," he whispered. "Older than the Cloudpeak Sect. Older than the mortal clans."
Jiang Yunxian frowned. "Old as in… good old or dangerous old?"
"Both," Rong Qi said cheerfully.
They stepped under a natural archway formed by intertwining trees whose trunks twisted like serpents frozen mid-dance. The branches overhead formed a canopy so thick it muted the world, letting only scattered ribbons of sunlight drip through like golden paint.
The hum they'd heard earlier grew clearer—soft, melodic, as though the forest itself breathed in rhythm.
Finally, the path opened.
And the sight before them stole their breath.
A hidden spring lay cradled in a basin of pale jade rock, its waters glowing with faint turquoise light. Mist hovered above the surface like drifting clouds. Lotus-like blossoms floated upon the water, their petals shaped like crystalline feathers, refracting light in shimmering arcs.
The air felt different here—thick with spiritual qi, warm despite the mountain cold, sacred in a way that hushed every careless thought.
Xing Yue stepped forward, her voice a whisper.
"An Aether Spring… those were believed to have vanished ages ago."
The sprite dipped its hand into the water, causing ripples of blue-white qi to spread like veins of light across the surface.
Jiang Yunxian knelt near the edge, watching as the turquoise glow reflected on his skin.
"It feels… calm," he said. "Like something is easing the air around us."
Rong Qi's feather shimmered even brighter, the colors shifting into deeper, rarer shades—obsidian red, molten gold, a faint glimmer of white flame that only Phoenix bloodlines could summon.
Xing Yue noticed at once.
"Rong Qi… you're reacting to the spring."
He fluttered proudly. "Of course I am! This spring—"
A tremor ran through him.
"—was once touched by phoenix fire."
Xing Yue straightened in quiet awe. "Phoenix fire…? From your ancestors?"
"From the very first flames," Rong Qi whispered, suddenly soft. "This spring wasn't created. It was awakened. Phoenixes used to bless certain places during celestial eras… places meant for rebirth, memory, and healing."
Jiang Yunxian blinked. "So… this is a Phoenix sanctuary?"
"Not quite." Rong Qi glowed like a living ember.
"It's a fragment of one. A forgotten echo."
The sprite climbed onto a rock and bowed again, this time deeper—its little body trembling. It motioned toward the spring, clearly offering it to them.
Xing Yue knelt gently, her hand hovering just above the water.
"We shouldn't take from something so sacred."
"You're not taking," Rong Qi murmured. "It's inviting. These springs don't open unless someone with Phoenix qi is nearby."
Jiang Yunxian looked at him.
"Because of you, then?"
Rong Qi hummed modestly. "Well, I do have excellent timing."
Xing Yue's expression softened—not quite a smile, but a gentler gaze than her usual stern serenity.
"This place… it feels like it remembers something important."
The wind stirred, sending petals from the crystalline lotus flowers gliding across the surface. The water's glow brightened, casting halos of light around their faces.
Rong Qi whispered,
"Maybe it remembers us."
Jiang Yunxian touched the water lightly with his fingertips.
Warmth spread through him. Not heat—warmth. A feeling of something ancient yet gentle brushing against his spirit, as if acknowledging him… accepting him… welcoming him.
Xing Yue stepped closer, her hair swaying as the breeze shifted.
"This spring isn't just old," she murmured. "It has been waiting."
"For what?" Jiang Yunxian asked.
The sprite, glowing faintly, lifted its hand and pointed not at the spring—
but at Rong Qi.
The feather pulsed.
Rong Qi stilled.
"Oh," he whispered, voice trembling with realization.
"It was waiting… for me."
The forest held its breath.
The spring shimmered with ancient light.
And their journey shifted—quietly, irrevocably—toward something far greater than any of them had expected.
___
The river sprite floated backward, giving space as though aware that something sacred was about to unfold. The turquoise glow of the Aether Spring intensified, its surface now rippling with threads of molten gold — a color unmistakably tied to the Phoenix race.
Rong Qi emerged fully from Jiang Yunxian's lapel, his feather hovering in the air with soft spirals of crimson and ember-like sparks. The spring's energy called to him, humming like a forgotten lullaby.
Jiang Yunxian instinctively reached out. "Rong Qi… wait—"
But the feather drifted forward, no longer guided by mortal or spiritual hands.
The forest stilled.
Even the wind paused.
Rong Qi hovered over the luminous water, trembling like a flame confronting its birthplace.
Xing Yue knelt slowly beside the spring, her voice lowered in reverence.
"Phoenixes are creatures of rebirth… If this is truly a fragment of their sanctuaries, it might awaken what was lost in you."
Rong Qi's usually playful voice was barely a whisper.
"I…think it should be of help to that foolish companion of mine.
Before Jiang Yunxian could retort..
The spring glowed brighter.
As if answering.
He drew closer.
The moment the tip of the phoenix feather touched the water, the spring erupted in light—not violent, but soft and profound, like the sun blooming underwater. Golden ripples spread outward, and the earth itself seemed to hum with recognition.
Jiang Yunxian shielded his eyes, heart pounding.
Xing Yue's robes fluttered as qi surged around them in gentle waves.
The river sprite bowed low, almost collapsing from the weight of spiritual reverence filling the air.
The water rose—not in a splash, but as a smooth column of glowing liquid, swirling around Rong Qi. From within the column, faint shapes formed: wings, flames, constellations that had not graced the sky in eons.
Rong Qi let out a small, broken sound.
"I… I know this…"
His voice shook.
"This warmth… this sound… this light… it feels like—"
The spiraling water reflected scenes not from the world, but from memory:
—A sky set ablaze with Phoenix wings.
—A song sung in a language older than the heavens.
—A nest of pure flame, soft and warm, where a tiny spark waited to be born.
—A great phoenix lowering its beak, whispering to the spark:
"Even the tinest thing feather holds a destiny."
Rong Qi gasped.
"That voice— I know that voice—! I think that was…"
The vision quivered.
The water spiraled faster.
Jiang Yunxian stepped forward, alarmed. "Rong Qi!"
But Xing Yue held out an arm.
"No. Let him see it. This memory belongs to him."
The glowing water tapered gently, curling upward to cradle the feather like hands made of starlight.
The memory shifted once more:
—A battlefield of shattered mountains.
—A rain of crimson fire.
—Phoenix feathers scattering like dying stars.
—A desperate cry—
"Protect… the last spark…"
Then darkness.
A final memory flickered—
A hand—someone's hand—reaching through the chaos, grasping a single phoenix feather as the world burned around them.
Rong Qi choked on a trembling sound.
"That was… me. I was that feather. The last feather…" it was an honest memory. A truthful one. But yet painful.
Because he remembered how that happened. He remembered why that happened. He remembered how it ended and the aftereffects of it all.
He flickered weakly, overwhelmed, dimming like a lantern in the wind.
The light of the spring softened, turning warm and gentle, as if comforting him.
Jiang Yunxian leaned closer, voice uncharacteristically gentle.
"Rong Qi… are you alright?"
Rong Qi trembled, glowing faintly.
"I'm not… just a feather. I'm a remnant. A… survivor. My phoenix… the one I came from… they died protecting something. Protecting me. And I became light this saving..."he allowed the word hang. He wasn't going to say it. Never. Until everything is remembered.
His voice cracked.
Xing Yue exhaled softly. "Then this spring wasn't waiting by coincidence. It was guarding the memory of your origin."
Rong Qi didn't speak.
He only floated lower, letting the spring cradle him, letting the ancient warmth settle into his being.
Then, very quietly, he whispered:
"…I wasn't supposed to be alone."
The words hung in the air like a wound.
Jiang Yunxian looked at him, something complicated stirring in his chest.
"Rong Qi… you're not alone."
Rong Qi glowed faintly—soft, vulnerable, nothing like his usual dramatic flamboyance.
He whispered,
"I… know."
The spring dimmed, settling into calm again. The water returned to its turquoise glow, now tinged with red-gold — a mark of the Phoenix's blessing.
The forest exhaled.
The river sprite rose, circling the three once, its expression serene and satisfied, as if its task had been fulfilled.
The moment lingered—quiet, sacred.
A turning point none of them had expected.
Where a single phoenix feather found its past…
And its place.
____
Here is the continuation — a quiet bonding moment after the memory, gentle, emotional, and full of xuanhuan atmosphere.
---
Rong Qi drifted back toward Jiang Yunxian, slower than before, no longer filled with energetic fluttering. He hovered low, like a flame humbled by wind.
Jiang Yunxian raised a hand beneath him, not touching yet offering steady warmth.
"You look like you need rest," he said softly.
Rong Qi let out a weak puff of light. "I… didn't expect to remember things that should have been closed. I was just…living whatever I am now."
Xing Yue knelt beside the spring, watching him with a rare gentleness softening her cold features.
"You remembered something precious. That alone is more than most spirits ever recover."
Rong Qi turned toward her with a small tremor of his feather.
"It hurts. But it also… feels like myself. It wasn't so hard to just relive the worst days ."
Xing Yue nodded. "Loss always hurts. Memory even more."
Jiang Yunxian lowered himself to sit on a smooth stone by the spring's edge. His earlier stiffness melted in the warm glow of the water. He glanced at Rong Qi, not the way one looks at an object or a tool, but with genuine concern.
"You said you weren't supposed to be alone," he murmured. "That… must've been hard."
Rong Qi drifted closer until he hovered just above Jiang Yunxian's knee.
"When my phoenix died, I think I—" He hesitated. "—I was too proud toto understand. A feather can live on its own, but it loses its… anchor. Its source. I always felt like I was floating without direction."
His glow dimmed for a moment. "That's why I act dramatic sometimes. It… fills the emptiness."
Jiang Yunxian blinked slowly, then sighed.
"Well," he said, awkward but sincere, "dramatic or not… you've saved us more times than you caused trouble."
Rong Qi brightened a little. "That's a lie, but I'll accept it."
Xing Yue smirked very faintly, the ghost of amusement crossing her lips.
Jiang Yunxian continued, looking away as if embarrassed by his own softness.
"And you're not directionless now. You're with us. You have always been with me. You saved me remember?"
Rong Qi's light trembled again—this time warmer, steadier.
"…Thank you. I will never forget that."
Xing Yue rose gracefully, her robes brushing against the grass as she approached.
"This spring recognized your existence. That means your fate isn't dust or wandering. Phoenix flames don't burn without purpose."
She extended a finger, letting Rong Qi rest lightly upon it.
Her voice softened.
"You are not alone, Rong Qi. You were never alone."
For a moment, the three simply stood there—no arguments, no teasing, no tension—just a quiet unity formed from shared steps and unexpected truth.
The river sprite approached again, tiny droplets dancing around it. It circled the trio in a gentle ring, its watery form shimmering with faint joy.
Rong Qi looked at it, then at Jiang Yunxian, then at Xing Yue.
A soft, genuine warmth radiated from him.
"If phoenixes are creatures of rebirth," he whispered, "then maybe… this could be our second chances."
Jiang Yunxian snorted softly. "Your second life is going to be noisy, isn't it?"
Rong Qi twinkled. "Obviously."
Xing Yue exhaled, the faintest sound of amusement.
"Come. We should rest here for a while. The spring's qi will soothe our energy."
So they did.
Jiang Yunxian sat by the water's edge, letting the cool spiritual breeze brush against him. Xing Yue stood watch beneath the jade-colored trees, her gaze distant but peaceful. Rong Qi floated between them, warm and calm for the first time since they'd begun their journey.
Somewhere high above, the sky glowed with streaks of pale sunlight filtering through the canopy—
and for the first time in a long time, nothing felt broken.
Nothing felt lonely.
And nothing felt out of place.