When Wang Xian came to his senses, Dongfang Yun had vanished into the void, as if he had never appeared.
He stood there in a daze, as though the faint, cool ripples that had spread through the void when the sage departed still lingered in his hand.
He thought that sages truly acted in the most unpredictable ways: they came without a trace and left without a sound.
He had not even deigned to leave a word of farewell.
What left him most wistful was that Dongfang Yun had not spoken with him about the vast world beyond, either...
That magnificent, bustling real world he had imagined while gazing up at the stars on countless nights.
He instinctively touched his wrist. It was bare.
The instant the bracelet shattered and fell to the ground, every memory of Wuyue had vanished from the depths of his mind, like morning mist scattered by the wind.
Even his master, Old Zhang, knew nothing of this secret.
The only one who knew the whole story was probably Dongfang Yun, who had already left.
In a daze, Wang Xian felt as though he stood atop a tower that reached to the heavens, leaning against its railing as he looked down over this mist-shrouded secret realm.
As far as he could see, billowing white mists filled the horizon. The landscape stretched on without end, with no boundary in sight—and no path back.
He suddenly remembered something. He joined his fingers like a sword, trying to imitate Dongfang Yun's move, "Heaven's Oracle," the one that had cleaved through the river of stars.
As he swept his sword fingers through the air, a faint glimmer of sword light flowed around his fingertips. It was no more than a firefly flashing across the night sky, gone in an instant.