Zao Yun and Ying Xia were fully prepared to depart. Their belongings were packed; they were only waiting for their master.

  From within the library, Han Wuang Shi finally emerged, a tall figure carrying his guqin, Bai Yu, resting gently on his back... the same instrument Gu Zong had once named. His sword, Su Hu Hun, gleamed in his hand.

  Even in simple robes, he looked effortlessly elegant, possessing a beauty that commanded silence.

  From afar, Zao Yun called out, “Look, the Master is coming! Hurry and prepare the carriage!”

  Han Wuang Shi preferred walking. Despite the carriage moving alongside him, he chose to walk with his disciples, a trait that earned him their deep respect, not just as their teacher, but as a man of sincerity and grace.

  They traveled on like that, step by step, until Han Wuang Shi turned to look back. His gaze fell not upon the Lian Qingxue Clan itself, but upon the quiet chamber where Gu Zong’s Jiuhuang Yin, a single white guqin, lay.

  For a brief moment, it seemed he wished to take it with him. But he knew that years of effort to hide and conceal that relic of the past would be in vain if he brought it into the light.

  Instead, he offered a faint, small, almost imperceptible smile of farewell.

  His disciples knew their master was bidding goodbye to something precious, yet none knew what it was. For no one, not even the most trusted among them, could enter Han Wuang Shi’s chamber. He had sealed it with a spiritual barrier so strong that not even dreams could trespass.

  This mystery disturbed many, especially Han Lao Fang.

  ---

  Hegong Clan

  The ritual of spiritual purification had just concluded. The courtyard was quiet as the disciples rose from meditation, their bodies still faintly glowing with residual energy.

  At the very end of the line, Wan Chang wan opened his eyes. He looked around, but Master Suo Jing was nowhere to be seen.

  For a moment, he wondered where his teacher had gone. But he knew his master's ways well; Suo Jing often wandered off suddenly and returned just as abruptly. So, Wan didn't dwell on it.

  He reached into his robes and took out a small firework talisman... a signal meant for the special guest overseeing all preparations, who would preside over the grand event.

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  Another disciple approached him, whispering, “Senior Brother Wan, Master Suo Jing isn’t here. Should we look for him?”

  Wan shook his head. “If we go searching, we won’t reach the Han Qiantian Clan’s assembly before nightfall. We must hurry. Inform Chief Han Lao Fang that the preparations can begin.”

  With that, he raised his hand and ignited the talisman. A streak of light shot upward, bursting into a beautiful spray of colors across the sky... the signal to begin.

  ---

  Han Qiantian Clan

  Nestled deep in a tranquil valley surrounded by cascading waterfalls, blooming flowers, and emerald-green mountains, the Han Qiantian Clan appeared like paradise carved from mist and light.

  From the upper terraces, the Xuanjing Dian corridors were fragrant with the soft scent of apple blossoms. A young servant, walking along these halls, happened to glance outside and saw the fireworks.

  His eyes lit up with joy. Everyone had been eagerly awaiting this magnificent festival.

  He rushed inside, shouting with excitement, “The celebration has begun! The fireworks have been lit!”

  Within the grand hall, Chief Han Lao Fang’s face glowed with satisfaction. smiling proudly.

  The hall was filled with laughter and festive voices until Han Zaoshi, the youngest, brother in cheerfully and stood beside his elder brother.

  “Senior brother,” he said with a grin, “I’m sure this year the fireflies will be even more beautiful than before!”

  But as he spoke, his tone wavered, and his cheerful face dimmed into hesitation.

  Then, softly, almost fearfully, he asked, “Brother… will you send an invitation this year to… to Master Xian Yong Ming?”

  He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Han Lao Fang’s composure shattered. He stood abruptly, rage burning in his eyes. The entire hall fell silent, even the flickering lanterns seemed to dim.

  Masters Hun zang and Ruie Gaojun also rose, their faces thunderous. How dare someone utter that name here?

  The air grew heavy... a silence so sharp it felt cursed.

  ---

  Elsewhere, however, the atmosphere was anything but grim.

  In the lively marketplace of Hegong City, Qing Yu sat outside Mei Gui’s dry-fruits stall, enduring her endless scolding.

  Mei Gui, a cheerful and quick-witted orphan, ran the busiest stall in the market, her voice rivaling a bell when she was angry.

  “Even a donkey works faster than you! Do you know how many customers turned away yesterday because of you?”

  Before Qing Yu could answer, Mei Gui grabbed his ear and twisted it.

  “Tell me honestly! Did you go to buy fox nuts or plant them yourself, huh?”

  The entire market burst into laughter. Together, they turned the ordinary bustle into a scene of joy and liveliness.

  After a while, Mei Gui sighed, brought him tea, and the storm passed.

  But then, casually, she looked around and asked, “By the way, where’s that fool Xiao Tang today? Haven’t seen him around.”

  Qing Yu froze. The faint smile on his lips faded, and his eyes lowered.

  He told her everything... what had happened by the Yushan River.

  Mei Gui’s face turned serious.

  She had never seen Qing Yu look so silent, so heavy with unspoken worry.

  Before she could speak, he rose and said quietly, “Order the lotus seeds from someone else. I’m going back… to check on Xiao Tang.”

  And just like that, he left, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Mei Gui staring after him in confusion.

  Her

  brows furrowed as she whispered to herself, “What’s going on…? Did Xiao Tang really drown?”