Volume One: The Most Heartless Are the Phoenix and Wutong Blossoms Chapter One: Awakening

-----Five Hundred Thousand Years Later-----

A gentle melody from the Goose Sky Zither stirred Zhuo Hua from a hazy slumber; whether it had lasted a day or a century, she could not tell. As her senses awakened, the world around her shifted from misty obscurity to clarity. The Xuanhuang Mirror shimmered with light, and the Goose Sky Zither resonated softly. Gazing into the Xuanhuang Mirror, Zhuo Hua felt as though all that had transpired in her dreams was but yesterday. She reached a hand through the mirror’s glow, longing to seize something from the past, but caught nothing—only the flow of time slipping through her fingers. The cold, unyielding mirror remained unmoved.

This Xuanhuang Mirror was the ancestral treasure of the Xuanhuang Divine Clan, its material unknown. The surface gleamed like silver, its body like jade, its stand like gold. Around it circled the emblems of four sacred birds: the Golden Crow, the Scarlet Luan, the Ink Roc, and the Emerald Oriole. It could reveal five thousand leagues of sky above and divine the void of ages past and future below. It had been damaged in the last war of the gods, a foot broken off and replaced with that of a Golden Martial Mountain Beast.

The Goose Sky Zither, meanwhile, was forged from that severed foot of the mirror by Zhuo Hua herself. In the void of Lanling, it wielded immense power: a strum could summon storms and raze all in its path, leaving desolation for tens of thousands of years, so that no living creature could be found. Yet within the true Void, it held no force at all. When used as an instrument, it could charm or delight the heart, even beguile the mind, its spirit bound in resonance with the Xuanhuang Mirror.

The appointed hour had come. Who could say how many years had passed in the mortal realm, how many times the rivers and mountains had shifted? How fared her old friends? Zhuo Hua’s heart lingered with longing for those she once knew.

A vision unfolded within the Xuanhuang Mirror. With a glance, Zhuo Hua recognized the misty rivers and rain-soaked mountains of Southern Yan Continent. “Is this where I must go this time?” she wondered aloud.

Illuminating the stars and constellations was not always a certain endeavor, but since the mirror now foretold that a new constellation would be born in Southern Yan, Zhuo Hua was resolved to journey there. Besides, she had always loved the mist-shrouded mountains and waters of Southern Yan, she mused. Yet she had left—had vanished on the eve of the Neighboring Battle, when her presence was most needed. She departed without warning, leaving not a trace. Every report confirmed she had not used the art of leaping across the void, which would have left marks to track. But if she had not used such an art, where could she have gone?

The surrounding void had been searched again and again, but yielded no sign. Over all these years, Zhuo Hua had grown weary and gradually abandoned the search, merely hoping she would not cross paths with the dark gods of the Shadow Wraith Clan. Yet Zhuo Hua still wished to see her once more, even hoping for another war of the gods—perhaps then, their paths would cross again.

Zhuo Hua stepped out onto the Cloud Summit, basking in the long-missed gentle air. Though she knew this was not the Xuanhuang Void, it still felt familiar, as if countless eras had passed with everything unchanged.

“Thinking of her again?” came a low voice at her side, faint as mist—its sorrow resonated with Zhuo Hua. “Don’t try to learn that mortal sorrow. It isn’t in you.”

“Jiao Mu Jiao, I always thought those of the Azure Dragon Palace knew the rules of the Cloud Summit. Why have you entered without summons today?” Jiao Mu Jiao stepped beside Zhuo Hua, his snow-white hair flowing freely, his presence serene and at ease.

After a moment, Jiao Mu Jiao spoke, “Where will you go this time, Yuanshang?”

“Southern Yan,” Zhuo Hua replied, striding toward the phoenixwood grove.

Jiao Mu Jiao sounded disappointed. “So many journeys, yet so few chosen in the end.”

Zhuo Hua turned to meet his clear gaze and answered with conviction, “I trust the mirror’s augury.”

She stooped to pick up a phoenixwood leaf, tracing its golden-red veins with her fingers. “Only those who appear in the Xuanhuang Mirror are worthy to have their names inscribed on the Celestial Stele. I sense that another gods’ war is near. The last two constellations must be found swiftly—only when all four palaces’ stars are gathered can we cast the spell to open the Light Screen.”

Jiao Mu Jiao opened his palm. Two leaves, flickering with tiny flames, drifted down. He turned them over, his gaze distant. “We of the Azure Dragon’s End Constellation could forego our place—I alone could control two.” He clenched his fist, and a spark leapt from his fingers.

“With that squeeze, thirty thousand years of essence in those leaves are gone. The new sign to appear is your own End Constellation’s Water Leopard—whether it succeeds or not, that remains to be seen.” Zhuo Hua paused, then added, “No, it will succeed.”

She drew a circle above the leaf with her finger. The dying flame flared anew. She placed the leaf flat in her palm and gently pushed it into the air; it floated back to the bough, glowing gold once more.

“Yuanshang, why not let me go this time? Let me illuminate the End Constellation of my own palace,” Jiao Mu Jiao pleaded, eyes full of entreaty.

Zhuo Hua studied him for a moment, then shook her head. “The task of illuminating constellations is not yours. The four palaces are guardians and overseers; the Yuanshang’s duty is to awaken the stars. Whether you go in my stead or for yourself, it would raise doubts—about the choice, about your motives. The harmony between the four palaces should not be disturbed.”

Jiao Mu Jiao sighed. “I just hate to see you return disappointed, time after time.”

Unknowingly, they reached the Jade Water Bridge, where a woman leaned on the rail, lost in thought.

Jiao Mu Jiao vanished from Zhuo Hua’s side and reappeared next to the woman, slapping her shoulder with a grin. “Jing Mu Han, the lover you’ve pined over has been awakened by the Zither.”

Jing Mu Han was startled, then glared at Jiao Mu Jiao. “You old lizard, always talking nonsense. Want me to stuff your mouth with phoenixwood leaves?”

Jing Mu Han’s hair tumbled to her waist, her face like a blossoming peach, skin as smooth as cream, a blue mark between her brows. She wore a golden and jade Vermilion Bird hairpin, a silver diadem at her forehead, a brocade jacket with golden Vermilion Bird embroidery, a dark skirt spattered with red and moonlight, a lamb-jade belt, and crimson palace sashes. She stood by the rail, a vision of beauty surveying the scene.

“You may take her shape, but you lack her heart. Yours is not as ruthless,” Zhuo Hua said, her joy giving way to disappointment as she leaned against the rail beside Jing Mu Han.

“But,” Jing Mu Han resumed her true form, dressed in plain attire, and smiled gently. “Isn’t it all to ease your longing? Though I wish you wouldn’t always think of her, I’m still willing to do this for you.”

Her voice was soft, like a silken thread caressing the skin—harmless, yet leaving an itch that could not be ignored. She turned to look at Zhuo Hua; the sharpness in her eyes softened, and a tender affection poured forth.

“Hm. The End Constellation of the Vermilion Bird Palace has yet to be revealed,” Zhuo Hua said, her voice dry, heightening the awkwardness.

“Only because fate has not yet arrived,” Jiao Mu Jiao interjected, trying to ease the tension as he played with a golden carp he’d just scooped from the River of Reeds, enclosing it in a sphere of water.

The fish swam forward, and the sphere rolled along with it. Jiao Mu Jiao teased, “Your hearts are like fish in a sphere—leaving is death, remaining is imprisonment.”

“Don’t compare us to Yuanshang and the Palace Master!” the carp retorted, flicking its tail as it leaped back to the river.

“You call Zhuo Hua a fish, but aren’t you the same? At least Zhuo Hua dares enter the sphere—do you?” Jing Mu Han shot back coldly.

“Mortals envy the palace above the clouds, but none are colder than the phoenixwood blossoms,” Zhuo Hua murmured, her weary figure fading into the palace, her mournful words lingering by the Jade Water Bridge.

Petals from the phoenixwood trees drifted down, evaporating into mist before touching the ground. The surrounding grass and flowers shrank or withered away, and the mist dissipated, leaving only deathly silence.

These silver blossoms held a lethal chill, yet who would guess they were divine medicine for healing and tribulation? So it was with the balance of five elements, yin and yang, heaven and earth, sun and moon—mutual creation and destruction.

Zhuo Hua closed the window with a wave and shut her eyes. Thoughts surged anew, images of her homeland arising—beautiful as the Cloud Summit and the Lanling Void, with grass growing, warblers singing, blossoms and birds in fragrant harmony.

“Let’s create our own void,” she had once said, tilting her head, starlight dancing in her eyes. “A world just like this, but ours alone, where none can find us.”

She stepped forward, resting her head on Zhuo Hua’s shoulder, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall. That irresistible feeling seeped into Zhuo Hua, filling every corner of her being, setting her ablaze.

Yet Zhuo Hua could never understand why Lanling had vanished before the Neighboring Battle.

A voice from the Xuanhuang Mirror pulled her back to the bright palace. She composed herself in time to see a new vision: a radiant sun, golden and resplendent, slowly marred by spreading black spots. As the darkness grew, the sun dimmed, then finally was extinguished.

Zhuo Hua frowned and dismissed the image, a chill creeping over her heart. The change was coming sooner than expected; much needed to be done, and quickly.

She plucked the Goose Sky Zither, playing the Willow Wind Tune. In moments, the four palace lords’ phantoms appeared at her sides, the divine beasts behind them shining clear.

Jiao Mu Jiao, lord of the Azure Dragon Palace and foremost among the four, bowed solemnly. “Summoned by Yuanshang, the four palace lords gather at the Cloud Summit to receive your command.” All four bowed deeply, performing the ninefold prostration.

“I know your duties are many and your time scarce, but the situation is urgent. Thus I called you here with the Willow Wind Tune, to discuss a great matter,” Zhuo Hua addressed them.

The Black Tortoise Palace Lord stepped forward and bowed. “Such words from Yuanshang do us too much honor.”

Jing Mu Han knelt, looked up, and murmured, “All the constellation lords have been awakened by Yuanshang, and gladly serve the Cloud Palace. There’s no need for such formality.”

Zhuo Hua nodded, adopting a gentler tone. “Dou Mu Xie, how go the preparations for the commemoration of the star lords and seven clans’ warriors lost in this year’s Neighboring Battle?”

Dou Mu Xie started, glancing at the other three, who were equally at a loss. He stepped forward and bowed nervously. “As last year, the ceremonies will proceed as usual.”

Zhuo Hua considered. “This year, make the ceremony grander.”

Jiao Mu Jiao hesitated, then gathered his courage. “If the ceremonies are to be grand, then… might we also collect and honor the remains of the dragon clan and other three demon clans left behind in the Neighboring Realm?”

Dou Mu Xie sneered, “The four demon clans—dragon, hawk, shark, and whale—lost heart and retreated, leaving the Immortal Allied Army surrounded. By Yuanshang’s decree, not a fragment of their remains was to return home. Have you forgotten?”

Jiao Mu Jiao bristled. “The demon army faced the fiercest enemy; more than half had fallen. My father—the Dragon King—only wanted to preserve a remnant of our line. Was that so wrong? And as for you, was it not your Black Tortoise Palace that promised to reinforce us in three days, yet did not arrive until the seventh? Had you come sooner, would my brothers have…” He trailed off.

Dou Mu Xie faltered, “I… I was with Yuanshang besieging the enemy’s capital, I couldn’t leave—”

Whatever more Jiao Mu Jiao might have said, Zhuo Hua’s voice thundered, “Enough! We will discuss this later. Now, to business.”

With a wave, she projected the earlier vision from the Xuanhuang Mirror into the hall: the golden sun, marred by spreading blackness.

“Observe. This image appeared at noon in the Xuanhuang Mirror and is predicted to occur in ten thousand years. The Light Screen’s activation demands vast quantities of sun essence. Our constant extraction from the Lanling Sun has brought us to an irreversible point—if we cannot replenish the essence, the Lanling Void’s sun will go dark in five hundred thousand years.”

Silence filled the hall; outside, the phoenixwood trees rustled and the River of Reeds murmured. In the distance, the splashing of carp could be faintly heard.

“Blessing and misfortune are intertwined. Each constellation lord throughout history has vowed to protect the Lanling Void and its sun. Now, only two posts remain vacant in the Celestial Palace, and the four palaces’ constellations are nearly complete. The day of opening the Heaven-Mending Array is not far off,” declared the Black Tortoise Lord, Dou Mu Xie. The other three nodded in agreement.

The White Tiger Lord, Kui Mu Lang, stepped forward. “The White Tiger Palace stands ready to strike. The Xuanhuang Mirror has revealed dozens of suitable voids. At your word, Yuanshang, we will rend the void, destroy their suns, and seize the essence to save Lanling.”

“But…” Zhuo Hua sat upright, “the mirror has not finished divining whether any sacred spirits dwell in those voids. Moreover, the End Constellations of the Azure Dragon and Vermilion Bird have yet to be awakened. Without all four palaces aligned, we cannot launch the Solar Eclipse Array to seize sun essence. Would you, White Tiger Palace, resort to the Shadow Wraiths’ vile methods—destroying suns and slaughtering innocents?”

Her words were stern, though her face betrayed no emotion.

“Therefore,” Jiao Mu Jiao composed himself and bowed, “our priority is to awaken the remaining two constellations and help them transcend their tribulations. I am willing to accompany Yuanshang on a journey to the lower realm.”

Zhuo Hua nodded. “The task of awakening stars has always been mine alone, but your company this time is welcome. Though you have weathered the Auspicious Cloud Tribulation and entered the divine rank, your cultivation is stalled at the sixth level. Perhaps this journey will help you break through. To open the Light Screen, all four palace lords must reach the ninth divine rank. Besides, it is only fitting for you to aid your own palace’s star in person.”

Jiao Mu Jiao beamed, bowing in thanks.

“Yuanshang.” A gentle woman’s voice arose in the hall.

“Jing Mu Han has also passed the Auspicious Cloud Tribulation—may I… may I join you in the lower realm?” Zhuo Hua turned to her; Jing Mu Han nodded slightly, her eyes lowered, her figure flickering with unease.

At last she had spoken the wish she’d long harbored.

Zhuo Hua remembered finding her in the northern snows, abandoned by her kin, wounded and unconscious in a snow cave like a stray pup. During Zhuo Hua’s thousand years of wandering in the mortal world, she kept Jing Mu Han by her side. When, after a thousand years, Jing Mu Han took human form, her very first words were a request to return and travel the human world again.

Jing Mu Han’s cultivation was always diligent but never took shortcuts, all because Zhuo Hua had once said her foundation was unstable. The first time Jing Mu Han survived the Fire Tribulation, she was gravely wounded. Zhuo Hua tried all medicines to no avail; only by giving her own blood did she save her, but was herself weakened for a long time. When Jing Mu Han awoke, she said, “From now on, my life is yours.”

Jing Mu Han was the second to survive the Auspicious Cloud Tribulation unscathed, and she did so in only four generations and eight hundred thousand years—the other was Lanling, whom none could surpass.

Zhuo Hua still shuddered recalling that day—the dangers Jing Mu Han faced in the Cloud Tribulation, nearly perishing in the void.

Well prepared, she drew the Fixed Qi Pearl to absorb sun essence, gathered vast power within, and after half a day opened the Cloud Void, which drew her in. She guided her energy with agility, darting through the void, evading all lightning and solar fire with unmatched speed. After a full day and night, just before her stores were depleted, she escaped, and the White Tiger Palace brought her home, utterly spent.

“Yuanshang,” Jing Mu Han’s voice interrupted Zhuo Hua’s thoughts. “I wish to accompany you on your journey below. Please, let me go.”