Li Zhexian staggered back several steps, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.
An illusion?
Yet the gaze of that white-robed youth—why did it stir such inexplicable unease… and familiarity?
He could not explain it.
Only that something deep within him had been lightly touched.
The white-robed youth in the puddle was worlds apart from the weather-beaten shell he now wore.
Li Zhexian stood frozen for a long time.
It was only when the night wind carried a bone-chilling cold that he was dragged out of that strange daze.
He bent down—
And retrieved the small wooden sword from the puddle.
At the very instant his fingertips touched the damp grain of the wood—
The east had already begun to pale.
The first ray of morning light pierced through the darkness before dawn.
It reflected upon the wooden sword's blade, still beaded with water droplets.
Li Zhexian subconsciously turned his wrist slightly.
The wooden sword scooped forward along with that ray of dawn.
Miraculously, that pure, warm morning light seemed truly to be "gathered" upon the blade.
It condensed without dispersing.
Even faintly emitted a clear, resonant hum.
Weng—
A vibration that only he could perceive traveled from the wooden sword into his palm, then straight into the lake of his heart.
At the same time—
The starlight he had previously sensed, its lingering residual energy and intent, resonated mysteriously with the warm, living morning light upon the blade.
One originated beyond the heavens—aloof and cold.
The other was born of the mortal world—vigorous and warm.
These two utterly different "lights" intertwined through the sword in his hand, merging into a faint yet unmistakable intent.
It was no longer merely distant stellar power.
It had taken root in the mortal world—
Yet transcended the mundane.
A wholly new realization.
A flash of insight struck Li Zhexian.
He brought two fingers together and wiped them across the blade that held the condensed light—
Then slashed forward.
A sword glow like starlight flashed and vanished.
Several meters away, a centipede crawling along a stone wall suddenly froze—then silently split into two.
The cut was smooth as a mirror, faint light still shimmering at the break.
Li Zhexian stared blankly at his own palm, then at the severed insect.
He still could not remember who he was.
But that long-lost sense of reality—
was quietly returning,
born from that newborn sword intent.
...
The next morning, mist still lingering,
Li Zhexian walked up to the storyteller and the Spirit Master as they packed their belongings, clasping his hands in farewell.
"Sir, this junior will take his leave here."
The storyteller paused.
The Spirit Master looked surprised.
"These past days, I thank you for letting me read the night rains of the jianghu, and listen to the lives of others."
Li Zhexian gazed into the distance, his eyes noticeably clearer.
"I have heard ten thousand volumes of stories. Now—it is time to walk my ten thousand miles."
The storyteller studied him closely.
In his lifetime, he had seen countless people.
Lord Sword Wine was a bright moon he could only look up to.
And the Li Chen before him—
When they first met, he had lost all memory, yet was like a pearl buried in dust, harboring hidden brilliance.
But over these two-plus months,
he had nearly watched with his own eyes as the boy was soaked through by worldly dust, becoming more slick and worldly than many jianghu drifters.
The speed of it was startling.
As though—
a sheet of paper that was too clean was easier for any color to stain.
Yet now,
he felt something had changed.
He could not say exactly what.
Only that deep in those eyes, there was a hint of calm clarity that had not been there yesterday.
The storyteller placed his scroll into his travel bag.
"Go, young man."
"But…"
"Do not lose the self that belongs in your story, while searching for the story that belongs to you."
Li Zhexian's heart trembled inexplicably.
He clasped his hands once more toward the storyteller and the Spirit Master, then turned away, stepping through the morning dew toward the distance.
The storyteller watched the young man's retreating figure until it vanished into the mist, then let out a soft sigh.
The Spirit Master could not help asking:
"Why do you sigh, sir?"
The storyteller unfolded the folding fan he carried with him, sweeping aside the morning fog before him.
"May your journey be high and long—first see yourself, then see heaven and earth."
The fan closed, the man departed.
Only the lingering echo remained, reverberating through the valley.
...
Li Zhexian entered the mortal world alone.
At first, he carried a sincere heart.
Whenever he saw injustice, he would step in to help.
He lifted fallen elders from the roadside, shared his dry rations with the hungry in remote villages, and even stood up for singing girls who were being humiliated.
He performed many small acts of kindness.
Every word of thanks made him feel that he was touching a human world that still held warmth.
Yet the jianghu was like a vast sea, its waves surging without rest.
He soon discovered…
Every day, countless joys and sorrows unfolded:
The cry of a newborn child in the eastern quarter, and the silent death of an old man in a broken shack on West Street, often happened almost simultaneously.
The festive wedding suona in the southern city could not drown out the wails of families destroyed in the northern alleys.
Good and evil, joy and grief, life and death—
they washed over him densely and without pause.
Gradually, he began to feel powerless.
Today he saved one person; tomorrow, another tragedy would unfold elsewhere—
like trying to drain the sea with bare hands.
And so—
At some unknown point, Li Zhexian stopped.
He no longer intervened.
Instead, he became a purely detached observer.
He stood at the head of a bridge,
watching wedding processions pass by in jubilant celebration.
He lingered at the end of an alley,
watching enemies hack an entire family to death.
Birth, death, union, separation—
all of it merely reflected in his eyes, no longer stirring any ripples in his heart.
Slowly,
his figure began to blur.
Time accelerated around him.
While others felt autumn had yet to turn bleak, he already sensed the biting chill of winter.
Thus he wandered the mortal world with cold, distant eyes, for who knew how many years.
Until one snowy night—
He saw a child crying over a sparrow that had frozen to death.
That crying shook his heart.
"What am I doing?"
"Why have I become so numb… so inhuman?"
He jolted awake.
A chill surged up from deep within.
"If even my emotions are gone, how can I reclaim memories that carry warmth?"
"If I feel nothing for the mortal world, how can I comprehend the supreme path?"
He recalled the storyteller's final words—
Do not lose the self that belongs in your story.
Only now did he understand.
What he had nearly lost was the heart of being human.
From that day on, he reached out once more.
No longer seeking any result or meaning—
He acted simply because his heart urged him to.
He helped merchant caravans push their carts through snowstorms.
He chopped firewood for poor farmers to last the winter.
He even expended his Spirit Power to warm a frozen vagrant.
Strangely enough—
When he stopped clinging to being an "observer" or an "intervener,"
and instead followed his heart to act and to feel—
the Spirit Power he had not sensed for so long began to flow again, like a spring thaw, growing steadily deeper.
A single day felt like a year.
Through every small act of kindness, he gained insight and growth.
Li Zhexian's strength returned quietly—
in a solid, grounded way.
...
Divine Realm Plaza
"Power over time and space—
a lifetime in a single instant."
The God of Destruction tilted his head toward Ji Dong and said in a deep voice:
"Evil, you overstepped."
"Hm?"
Ji Dong frowned.
"When did I overstep?"
"I am the Evil God King. I left an inheritance ground in the mortal world.
This Li Zhexian simply happened upon it, blessed by fortune—what does that have to do with me?"
The God of Destruction spoke slowly:
"Was it not you who deliberately arranged those mortal joys and sorrows, so that Li Zhexian might gain enlightenment?"
"Destruction, even as a Law Enforcer, you cannot slander a God King."
Ji Dong turned to the God of Asura:
"Asura, you are also a Law Enforcer. Have I overstepped?"?"
The Asura God replied calmly:
"No."
Then he added:
"Destruction, if you care so much about gods meddling in mortal affairs,
perhaps you should question the Sea God instead."
"He directly guided a divine inheritance token that had fallen into the mortal world—straight to his chosen successor."