Chapter 1339: Fateful Clash, Beginning of the Predestined Battle!

Chapter 1339: Clash of Fates, the Dawn of an Ancient Battle!

The great hall of the Phoenix slowly swung open.

Outside, there was no wind—but time itself flowed, slipping silently through the widening doorway.

In that instant, the entire Phoenix Hall seemed to transform into a river of space and time.

With each footfall of the figure beyond the threshold, ripples surged across the fabric of spacetime.

The first ripple bloomed in a flash—and within it, scenes from bygone days unfurled throughout the hall.

Glimmering waves reflected the land of the Seven Sect Alliance as it once was.

Birdsong and blossoms filled the air; peace reigned everywhere.

In the distance, cultivators of the Seven Blood Pupils labored to build their sects. Closer by, beneath a star-strewn sky outside Xuan You Sect’s gates, two figures crept like thieves in the night.

It was the day the Seven Blood Pupils had newly joined the alliance—the very moment when Er Niu had invited Xu Qing to accompany him in trading fingers with Huang Yi Kun.

Above them in the heavens stood a woman, smiling warmly.

She radiated grace and allure—long black hair cascading down her back, loosely tied with a pink ribbon. Clad in a violet gown shimmering with starlight, she seemed wreathed in ethereal mist, a celestial being untouched by mortal dust.

Her gaze now settled upon Xu Qing below. With a soft laugh, she stepped forward.

Amidst the astonishment of Er Niu and Xu Qing within the vision, she approached Xu Qing, lifted a finger, and gently tilted his chin upward, her breath fragrant as orchids.

“Little one,” she murmured, “we meet again. Have you lost your way so late at Xuan You Sect?”

This marked the true beginning of Xu Qing’s encounter with Zi Xuan.

Ripples spread outward. Outside the vision, Xu Qing smiled—and within it, the younger Xu Qing raised his head, meeting the eyes of the woman who held his chin, and softly replied,

“I wasn’t lost. I followed the invisible thread in my heart… all the way here.”

At those words, the woman in the vision froze.

Then the first ripple faded.

Xu Qing took his second step forward—and the second ripple bloomed within the Phoenix Hall.

The Immortal-Infused Myriad-Ages River appeared within the wave, filling the hall with its presence.

It was twilight—the sun sinking low on the horizon.

Upon the tranquil river floated a massive vessel.

Leaning against its railing, Zi Xuan seemed almost to merge with the crimson glow of dusk.

Nearby sat Xu Qing, his expression tinged with shyness.

“Xu Qing,” she said gently, “play that melody for me—I wish to hear it.”

Her voice drifted softly—and soon, flute notes rose into the air.

Though still touched by the spirit of wanderers, the tune no longer spoke of lifelong sorrow or solitude.

Instead, it carried a glimmer of hope—and a blessing.

Zi Xuan trembled slightly, turning to look at Xu Qing.

He lifted his head and whispered,

“That piece was once called ‘Parting Sorrow.’ Now, I name it ‘Reunion.’”

…

Scene after scene unfolded within the Phoenix Hall, rising and falling with the tides of time.

Step by step, Xu Qing walked toward Zi Xuan—each footfall summoning another memory.

Within the ripples appeared their silhouettes seated atop the colossal serpent statue, their heartfelt words echoing through recollection.

Faintly visible too was the secret chamber in Feng Hai County, where Zi Xuan traced protective sigils onto Xu Qing’s body.

And further still—the silhouette of Xu Qing retrieving the Zi Xuan Shangqing Lantern in the Imperial Capital of humankind.

All these moments intertwined, roaring through spacetime, surging wave after wave within the Phoenix Hall.

At last, treading upon the ripples, Xu Qing reached Zi Xuan, who sat cross-legged before him.

He extended his hand.

The starlight in Zi Xuan’s eyes—awakened earlier—had already illuminated the world.

Now, Xu Qing’s arrival painted color into that luminous realm.

Without hesitation, Zi Xuan grasped his hand.

Tenderness softened Xu Qing’s features as he helped her rise, whispering,

“I’m back.”

In the next instant, the Phoenix Hall silently blurred—and vanished from beneath Feng Hai County.

When it reappeared, they were no longer in the city of Feng Hai, but atop the old Cha Xia Mountain.

There stood two graves.

There, long ago, Xu Qing had chosen his home.

For here lay the faint, naturally blurred memories of his parents—those sacrificed to Shang Huang.

Unable to find them within the currents of time, these twin tombs remained the sole proof they had ever existed.

So Xu Qing brought Zi Xuan here—and together, they made their dwelling upon Cha Xia Mountain.

Half a sexagenary cycle passed.

During those thirty years, the golden age of Wang Gu Continent unfolded in full splendor.

Zhou Zhengli and the others had long since grown accustomed to life in Wang Gu—some retreating into seclusion, others founding sects to pass on their teachings.

Each pursued cultivation in their own way.

As for Shang Huang above the firmament—it never opened its eyes again.

Yet from Cha Xia Mountain came two sword strokes.

The first struck twenty-seven years prior—when a deity trespassed across the boundary of Wang Gu’s starry skies.

That sword leapt from Cha Xia Mountain, soared into the heavens, and cleaved the intruding god in twain!

Divine blood rained down, drawing the awestruck gazes of all beings in Wang Gu.

The second stroke came five years ago—not aimed at the stars, but at the Outer Sea!

There, deities from other ring-worlds sought entry into Wang Gu through the Primordial Ocean.

They were slain with a single slash!

These two strikes sent tremors through the divine watchers beyond Wang Gu.

And thus, for the first time in truth, a sacred land arose upon Wang Gu.

Many journeyed to Cha Xia Mountain—but few could truly ascend its slopes.

For that Mountain of Morning Glow exists within time and space, yet also beyond it.

But there was one person who could ascend it—yet she lingered long outside its slopes, gazing upward, before finally choosing to walk away.

That person was Ling’er.

In this world, many things cannot be forced—especially matters of the heart.

Take Zhao Zhongheng, for instance: he suffered half a lifetime, yet love still eluded him.

Decades ago, when Xu Qing journeyed to the Ji Yue Great Domain, though he never spoke plainly in the apothecary, Ling’er had already understood during those few days they spent together.

…

And so, another ten years passed.

On this day, the light of dusk spilled across heaven and earth, bathing the Mountain of Morning Glow in radiance, refracting into dazzling brilliance.

Amid that twilight glow, a figure descended from the mountain.

Clad in black robes, with shoulder-length violet hair and a tall, slender frame, he moved like an enigmatic wisp conjured from the dying rays of sunset.

It was Xu Qing.

Behind him walked Zi Xuan, dressed now in the simple garb of a married woman.

Though her attire was plain, it could not conceal her beauty—yet worry shadowed her expression as she watched Xu Qing, words trembling on her lips but unspoken.

Behind her stood the former patriarch of Vajra Sect, his form now fully corporeal, no longer a mere spirit.

Over the years, he had received no small share of fortune, becoming the Mountain of Morning Glow’s devoted steward, wielding authority wherever he went beyond its bounds.

In his idle moments, he had even begun composing vernacular tales…

Only Xiao Ying rivaled him for this post.

Yet today, all his usual pride had vanished; instead, his face mirrored his mistress’s anxiety.

He knew, however, that now was not the time to speak—or to disturb Xu Qing and Zi Xuan’s farewell—so he quietly stepped back.

Ignoring the old patriarch, Zi Xuan approached Xu Qing and straightened his robes, then murmured softly,

“Must you really go?”

Xu Qing remained silent.

After a long pause, he turned toward the direction of the Tun Tian Great Domain and spoke gently,

“It must be settled at last. He has waited for me many years.”

Requesting Leave for Planning

The fated confrontation between Zi and Qing shall thread through the entire narrative structure. I need time to carefully conceive and refine it—please grant me leave.