Evening was approaching. The sky deepened into a bruised purple, and even the silence seemed to be drifting into a restless slumber. A biting chill gripped the air. Gu Zong wandered along the path, but his eyes were not on the road; they were buried in the unfurled scroll held in his hands. He walked as if in a trance, his feet moving instinctively while his mind was submerged in understanding.

  His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing in calculation. "Is this it? Is this all the zither is for?" he whispered, his voice laced with disbelief. "I thought it would hold some lethal, ancient knowledge or world-shattering power... but it only has two functions? What a waste..."

  In a fit of irritation, he snapped the scroll shut and tucked it into his belt. He turned his head away, pouting and grumbling to himself. "I would have been better off crafting my own zither. But... why couldn't I?"

  Suddenly, his eyes widened as a realization struck him like a physical blow. Dark clouds began to swarm the heavens. He stared at his trembling hands. "Why did Wuang Shi tell me about the Jiuhuang Yin? Did he... did he think I...?"

  The thought acted like a spark in a powder keg. His eyes ignited with a fierce, burning fire. His fists clenched until the knuckles turned white. Without warning, he broke into a sprint, his speed reaching its absolute limit on the rugged path. In his haste, the maroon scroll slipped from his waistband, falling unnoticed onto the dirt near a cluster of yellow wildflowers. Gu Zong didn't feel it fall; he kept running until the silhouette of a calmly walking Han Wuang Shi appeared before him.

  With a roar of speed, Gu Zong lunged. He grabbed Wuang Shi by the collar and threw him to the ground with a violence that was uncharacteristic. Pinning him down, he pulled at his robes, his voice trembling and distorted it didn't even sound like his own. His eyes were bloodshot, looking thirsty for vengeance.

  "Why?!" Gu Zong hissed, his voice like a crack of lightning. "Why did you tell me about the Jiuhuang Yin?! Do you think I'm so pathetic that I can't forge my own path? Answer me, Wuang Shi! Why did you steal a look at the zither's manual for me? Why?!"

  Wuang Shi simply stared back. He looked into Gu Zong’s frantic face with eyes that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, yet his lips remained locked in a silent tomb. He didn't speak. He didn't even try to defend himself.

  "Answer me!" Gu Zong's voice thundered again.

  A suffocating silence fell between them. Wuang Shi didn't utter a word; he simply lowered his gaze. His hands didn't move to push Gu Zong away, and his body didn't stir to rise. Even his eyes offered no resistance.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  Finally, Gu Zong released him with a rough shove. He reached into his robes, pulled out a white seashell, and slammed it onto Wuang Shi’s chest. Gu Zong stood up, his posture rigid, though his clenched fists were visibly shaking. He refused to look at the man on the ground. When he spoke, his voice was cold, distant, and hollow.

  "Wuang Shi... forget everything that happened. There is nothing between you and me. Thank you for your 'help,' but from now on, don't you dare cross my path again."

  With those final, freezing words, he turned and walked away. As he moved, tears finally escaped his eyes, trailing down his face. His heart screamed to stay, but like a stubborn, hurt child, he dragged his soul away with him. He didn't look back, not even once.

  Wuang Shi remained there, lying paralyzed on the cold earth, as if his very will to move had been extinguished.

  As a cold wind began to howl, Wuang Shi finally rose. As he stood, the white seashell slid from his chest and fell into the dirt. A flash of lightning flickered in the sky, followed by the roar of the gale. Standing there like a hollow statue, Wuang Shi looked toward the direction where Gu Zong had vanished, his eyes shimmering with unshed moisture.

  He looked down at the fallen seashell. He knelt, picked it up with a lingering touch, and began to walk. His steps had no destination, no purpose. He drifted into an unknown direction, a path leading toward uncertainty, his fingers tightening around the shell until they turned white.

  Farther back on the path, the first drop of rain fell upon a yellow petal right next to where the maroon scroll lay abandoned. Within seconds, the heavens tore open. Thunder crashed and torrential rain began to lash the earth, soaking the silken fabric of the forgotten scroll.

  Amidst the downpour, a messenger arrived at the gates of Gu Zong's home. Hui Chi emerged, holding a bunch of coriander, likely preparing a meal. A sudden bolt of lightning rent the sky as if reality itself were being torn apart.

  But the real strike hit the Grandfather.

  Under the flickering candlelight, he read the letter from Fukun Xueyuan. His breath hitched; his eyes sank into a deep, dark abyss of thought. Hui Chi brought the messenger a cup of hot tea.

  "Thank you, Lady," the messenger said gratefully.

  "It is nothing," Hui Chi replied softly. She turned to the Grandfather and saw the deathly silence on his face. "Master? Is everything alright? What does the letter say?"

  The Grandfather folded the letter and handed it back to the messenger, who bowed and disappeared into the rain. The room was instantly filled with a hollow, haunting silence. Hui Chi’s heart began to hammer against her ribs.

  "Grandfather... please, tell me. Is everything okay?" her voice trembled.

  The Grandfather shook his head slowly, his voice heavy with an ancient gravity. "We have been summoned to Fukun Xueyuan... by the Great Grandmaster Gongzhang himself."

  At the mention of that name, Hui Chi turned cold. Gongzhang was a legend, a sovereign of the cultivation world. To be summoned by him in these circumstances could only mean one thing. Her eyes grew tearful. She began to form a hand-seal to send a message-mantra to Gu Zong, but the Grandfather stopped her.

  "No, Hui. This is not the time. We must leave. Now."

  Hui Chi looked out at the window. Outside, the world was being swallowed by a merciless, torrential storm.